Class J: Book- GoByriglitF_ / THE BEGINNING OF HOME INPLUENOB HARACTER SKETCHES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS OR SUCCESS AND HOW TO WIN IT BEING A VAST TREASURY OF THE NOBLEST TRUTHS AND WISEST MAXIMS FOR THE INSTRUCTION AND SELF-IMPROVEMENT OF THE YOUNG; SHOWII^G THE TRUE AIMS AND OBJECTS OF LIFE TOGETHER WITH A GALLERY OF PORTRAITS AND BIOGRAPHIES OF SUCCESSFUL MEN AND WOMEN A PRACTICAL TREATISE ON HOW TO BUILD CHARACTER AND WHOM TO EMULATE BY Henry Davenport Northrop Author of "Charming Bible Stories," "Beautiful Gems of Thought aud Sentiment," etc. Profusely Embellished with Superb Engravings NATIONAL PUBLISHING CO. . _. .. 239, 241 AND 243 AMERICAN STREET rHILADELreiA, PA. TWO COPIES RKCEIVED, Library of Conere8% Office of tho JAN 6- 1900 Register of Copyright* \ 5106r Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1899, by J. R. JONES In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. A)' Rights Reserved ■CCONDCOPIC 3 - PREFACE. HOW to live thf: best, the noblest, and the happiest hfe, is the all-important question fully answered in this most comprehensive volume. The choicest stores of v/isdom, the brightest thoughts of master minds, and the most shining examples of the highest type of success, are gathered here for the instruction, the entertainment and practical benefit of both old and young. BOOK I. Starting Right; or, the Influence of Home. — A well-known author says: "It is the Home that makes the Nation." With equal truth we may say, it is the Home that makes the grandest men and women. Here is where ideal character is fashioned. And no work can possess greater value than the one that faithfully describes the true Home and pictures it as the sweetest type of heaven. The reader finds in these glowing pages a beautiful tribute to Parental Influence. Tike an angel of light appears the devoted mother, that uncrowned queen, of whom it has been truly said: " The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world." The Force of Example is vividly portrayed. Says quaint Ben Franklin : " None preaches better than the ant, and she says nothing." The reader learns how true it is that noble examples stir us up to noble actions. This, and all the other subjects treated in this volume, are so forcibly presented and so strikingly illustrated that the work has an irresistible charm to every reader. It is a book that wakes up slumbering thoughts. Its sound is that of a trumpet and its watchword is " Onward." It inspires in the reader a noble ambition to make the most of himself and gain a high position in the world. By striking examples from real life, the force of the great truth is illustrated, that, "Just as the twig is bent, the tree's incUned." The all-important lessons that should be taught in the Home, the noble aims that should be presented, and the masterly elements that form a model character are stated in a manner that deeply interests the reader. The greatest names in history, the men and women who have achieved the most brilliant success, are here photographed and held up for imitation. BOOK II. The Cardinal Virtues. — This part of the work describes and teaches those Great Virtues which alone can render life happy and successful. Here is an eloquent tribute to Charity, the praises of which are spoken in Holy Writ and sung in sweetest song. Here is shown the bright side and. how essential it is to always look upon .it and make the best of our lot. Here Industry is preised and its ■superb achievements portrayed. Here Honesty is shown to be the touchstone of ■success. Every young person in the land should read about Truthfulness, Perseverance and Economy. These are virtues that no one can afford to ignore, and no one would wish tr> do so after reading what is here said concerning them. iii PREFACE. Here are brilliant illustrations of Courage — including that grand moral Courage^ which is the noblest type. Here the reader is taught the value of Patience, which waits and wins by waiting. Here Hope rises on the vision as the morning star heralds the coming sun. Here is an inspiring call to Self-Control. This cluster of Great Virtues includes Contentment, of which Robby Burns wrote so finely in the " Cotter's Saturday" Night." Here young men learn what can be accomphshed by Endurance. The Christian virtue of Forgiveness is pictured in the most attractive colors, and in company with it is the sister virtue of Gratitude, The brightest examples of Self-Sacrifice are gathered from the most glowing pages of history. Heroism in Well-Doing begets a desire in every breast to perform noble deeds. Temperance and Good Health are set forth according to their merits. Special attention is called to the very practical Rules for Bodily Exercise and the preservation of Health. These are fully illustrated, and this part of the volume is a. complete handbook of athletic exercises for both sexes. CONTENTS. BOOK I. STARTING RIGHT; OR, THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. CHAPTER I. PAGI "Just as the Twig is Bent the Tree 's Inclined " I't CHAPTER II. The Force of Example 3S CHAPTER III. The Best Capital is Character CHAPTER IV. Make the Best of Yourself . . . CHAPTER V. The Royal Road to Success . . CHAPTER VI. The School of Everyday Life 109 CHAPTER VII. The Path of Duty 127 CHAPTER VIII. Be Ri/ht, then Go Ahead ........ 143 BOOK 11. THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. CHAPTER IX. PAGE "TheGreatestof These is Charity" . . . . 157 CHAPTER X. Looking on the Bright Side 179 CHAPTER XL Industry Honesty CHAPTER XIL CHAPTER XIIL PAGE Truthfulness 225 CHAPTER XIV. Perseverance . 243 CHAPTER XV. Economy . . 25? CHAPTKR XVI. Courage 271 V CHAPTER XVII. CHAPTER XVril. Hope CHAPTER XIX. Sympathy CHAPTER XX. CHAPTER XXL Contentment . CHAPTER XXII. CHAPTER XXIII. Forgiveness CONTENTS. PAGE . 285 CHAPTER XXIV. Gratitude 379 CHAPTER XXV. Self-Sacrifice 391 CHAPTER XXVI. Decision 403 CHAPTER XXVII. Heroism in Well-Doing 413 CHAPTER XXVIII. Temperance CHAPTER XXIX. Good Health 449 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. "Just as the Twig is Bent the Tree's Inclined " 16 "The Cheerful Home Presents its Smiling Face ' ' 19 Grafting the Young Tree 23 " Home is a Shelter from the Wintry Blast " .29 "The Mother is the Child's Playmate" ... 35 The Force of Example 40 To the Dear Ones at Home 44 Milton Dictating Paradise Lost 48 The Harvest Sheaf 62 John Pounds in his Workshop 56 The Best Capital is Character 61 " Work Morn and Eve and Through the Sultry Noon, And Songs of Joy will Hail the Harvest Moon " 65 Make the Best of Yourself 76 Make Haste 78 The Beauties of Autumn 85 Royal Road to Success 88 The Sower 91 Footprints in the Sand 97 The Soldier's Dream 101 The Royal Road 105 Manual Training School 108 Grandmother's Thoughts 115 " No Night so Dark, no Day so Drear, But we may Sing our Song of Cheer " . . .121 The Path of Duty 126 Be a Hero 132 The Blind Man's Dutiful Child 138 Be Sure You are Right, then Go Ahead . . .142 Catharine of Aragon Facing Her Accusers , . 149 Charity 156 " Peace on Earth, Good-will to Men " . . . .160 Waiting for " Mother " 166 God is Dove 272 The Welcome Return 378 A Recipe for Summer 181 A Song to Cheer 185 Merry Christmas 191 Industry and Idleness 196 Honesty 212 The First Wrong Act 218 King Canute Trying to Sweep Back the Ocean . 224 " No Virtue of More Noble Worth, Than Truth, from Heaven Brought to Earth " 227 vii PAGB The Authorities of Salem Making a Charge of Witchcraft 235 Perseverance 242 Teaching the Young Economy 256 The Fruit Seller Counting her Money . . . .261 Courage 272 Druids Inciting the Britons to Resist the Romans 276 Patience 284 True Patience 287 The Last Hope 296 King Richard Landing at Jaffa to Recover the Holy Land 30C The Sure and Steadfast Anchor 304 A Visit of Sympathy 303 Flowers for the Sick 313 Self-Control 322 Oliver Cromwell 326 The Duke of Wellington 32-! Contentment 335 Two Homes 343 Heroic Endurance 348 The Hardy Sailor on the Lookout 351 Joan of Arc Before King Charles VII . . . . 357 " I Regret that I cannot Tell him I have Forgot- ten Everything " 364 The Reconciliation 371 Base Ingratitude 378 Hymn of Thanksgiving ......... 383 Self-Sacrifice 390 Is Life Worth Living? 395 A Case of Indecision 402 The Decisive Answer 407 Heroism in Weil-Doing 412 Peace and the Sword 415 The Bivouac of the Dead ........ 426 Nature's Btverage 422 Thanksgiving 437 The Man that Blows his Own Trumpet . . . 443 Healthful Exercise 448 Health and Beauty 451 Health-Giving Recreation 457 The Slaves of Fashion 461 Thirty-three Practical Illustrations of Athletic Exercises 467-477 Overcoming Difficulties 478 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Full Page Phototype Engravings The Beginning of Home Influence A Mother is a Mother Still H. W. Longfellow Edward Everett . J. G. Holland . Bret Harte . R. H. Stoddard . George Washington William McKinley Admiral George Dewey- Thomas A. Edison Prince Von Bismarck Napoleon Bonaparte William E. Gladstone Henry Clay Daniel Webster Henry Ward Beecher Frances E. Willard Adelina Patti James Whitcomb Riley Eugene Field Admiral W. S. Schley Harriet Beecher Stowe Alice Cary . Elizabeth Phelps Ward S^.s .rr'^P^ kKf^.^^ i'^h'J'' oodard Georo^e Washino^ton. GEORGE WASHINGTON, the first President of the United States, was born in Westmoreland Connty, Va., Febrnary 22d, 1732. His ancestors were of the landed gentry of Northamptonshire, Eng- land. He received a careful home training and attended two local schools, but was never a classical scholar. When Washington was nineteen years of age the colony was divided into military districts, and he was given, by Governor Robert Dinwiddle, the position of Adjutant-General with the rank of Major, being the youngest officer of that rank in the colonies. He soon made himself conversant with military affairs. October 30th, 1753, he was sent by Governor Dinwiddle as commissioner to the French commander on the fork of the Ohio River. He performed his mission loyally, though it entailed great suffering and danger from both French and Indians. April 2d, 1754, he was made Lieutenant-Colonel, and took part in the disastrous campaign against the French and their Indian allies, which ended in the surrender of Fort Necessit}/. The next year we find him on General Braddock's staff, and, had his advice been followed, that General would probably have been spared the disastrous defeat which cost him his life. Washington really saved the remainder of the army from annihilation. In 1759 he married Mrs. Martha Custis, a lady of rare personal charm and solid mental endow- ments. He was for some time a member of the Virginia Assembly, and took part in the first Colonial Congress, winning golden opinions by his steadiness and loyal faith. While still a member of the Continental Congress, the battle of Lexington took place, April 19th, 1775, and Washington was chosen as the Commander-in-Chief of the forces engaged against Great Britain. He hurried to Boston, forced the British to evacuate that city, and from that time until the close of the war at Yorktown, he presented the spec- tacle of a commander unwearied by defeat, not elated by victory, unmoved by calumny, unspoiled by flattery ; at once a gentleman, a hero, a patriot, a Christian, and a modest man. It was only natural that Washington .should be called to govern the nation he had so nobly aided to create, and on the 30th of April, 1789, he was inaugurated as the first President of the United States. Washington was again chosen President and inaugurated Alarch 4th, 1793. He died December 14th, 1799, at Mt. Vernon, Virginia. Washington was six feet two inches high, of stately carriage and address. He well deserved the honors thrust upon him, and was, indeed, '' first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen." Hon. William McKinley. NEARLY all of the Presidents of the United States have come from humble life. Their fortune was in themselves, and by force of intellect, by industry, integrity and perseverence, they rose to the highest position in the gift of the nation. Perhaps there is no higher honor that can be conferred on any man than the Presidency of the United States. Whoever gains this commanding position must be possessed of sterling qualities. Our country has been fortunate from the very beginning in the men who have occupied the White House. Among these is William McKinley, who deserves to rank among the most illustrious of our statesmen who have filled the chair of the Chief Executive. He was born at Niles, Ohio, February 26th, 1844. He enlisted in the United States Army in May, 1861, as a private soldier in the Twenty-third Ohio Volunteer Infantry, and was mustered out as captain of the same regiment and brevet-major in September, 1865. His career in the army was highly creditable to him, for although he did not rise to a high rank, he was considered an excellent soldier, faithful to duty and brave in danger. Yet, doubtless, no one pre- dicted that he would become the foremost citizen of his country. He was prosecuting attorney of Stark County, Ohio, 1869-71, displaying conspicuous ability in his chosen profession which was that of the law. He was elected to Congress in 1877, and in 1884 lost his seat by vote of the House, his seat having been contested by his oppo- nent. He was re-elected and sat continuously as a member of Congress from 1885 to March 4th, 1891. During this period he distinguished himself in Congress as the author of a protective tariff bill which was passed by Congress in 1890. All through his career in Congress he showed himself to be a man of marked ability, remarkably well informed, strong in debate, and at times surpassingly eloquent. He was elected Governor of his native State in 1891 and was made the candidate of the Republican Party for the Presidency in 1896. The campaign of this year was very exciting and a large vote was polled. Mr. McKinley was elected by a very large majority and entered upon his duties as President on the 4th of March, 1897. He at once showed that he had a masterly grasp of the political situation, was disposed to keep every promise made by his party, and very soon business, which had been in a depressed condition, began to revive. In 1898, war broke out between our country and Spain and the vast responsibilities growing out of it were borne by Mr. McKinley in a manner which commanded the admiration of his fellow countrymen. WILLIAM Mckinley President of the United States Rear-Admiral George Dewey THE brilliant victory of Admiral Dewey over the Spanish fleet at Manila made him the most famous naval commander of modern times. He was commander of our Asiatic squadron and on Mon- day, April 25th, 1898, received news of the declaration of war between our countr}'- and Spain. The neutrality laws would not allow him to remain at Hong Kong, and leaving this port on Wednesday he sailed for Manila, the capital of the Philippine Islands. Having passed the batteries and harbor defenses under cover of darkness, on Sunday morning. May ist, lie annihilated the Spanish squadron, numbering eleven vessels, and silenced and destroyed three batteries. On Monday he occupied the navy yard, blew up six batteries, cut the cable, established a blockade, and drove the Spanish forces out of Cavite. The next day he swept the lower bay for torpedoes. All this was accomplished with little damage to his fleet, and just eight men wounded, while immense damage was inflicted on the enemj^ both in the destruction of men and ships. Dewey showed that he possesses the rare capacity of combining prudence with daring. His dominant qualities are courage, manliness, frankness, shrewdness, and a keen sense of honor. As a naval ofiBcer he has allways manifested the utmost confidence in himself and this has inspired confidence pri' the part of others. Of Green Mountain stock, he started in life with a good heritage, and from the time he graduated from the Naval Academy in 1854 he had an honorable career. During the Civil War he distinguished himself for bravery on many occasions. He figured in the capture of New Orleans, April, 1862 ; did gallant service at Port Hudson, March, 1863 — running the batteries and capturing Fort Fisher. The frigate Mississippi was destroyed in the Mississippi river after a stubborn fight. Dewey was the last man to leave the sinking frigate and Admiral Porter, in commenting on this incident, said : " It is in such trying moments that men show of what mettle they are made, and in this instance the mettle was the best." Dewey was promoted commodore February 20th, 1896, and on January 3d, 1898, assigned to the command of the Asiatic squadron. May 7th, he was promoted Acting Rear-Admiral of the United States Navy by President McKinley as a reward for " highlj^ distinguished conduct," and Congress tendered a vote of thanks to him and his men by request of the President. ^;m>-' REAR ADMIRAL GEORGE DEWEY The Hero cf Manila Thomas A. Edison. NO inventor has ever achieved greater distinction than Thomas A. Edison. He is nothing less than a phenomenon in the realm of science, more especially in that part of it vi^hich relates to elec- tricity. His discoveries have been the wonder of the age, and have made him famous throughout the world. We find him at the age often reading the histories of Gibbon and Hume, yet his biographers assert that he went to school only two months in his boyhood. Like the vast majority of those men who have left a deep impression upon their time, he was born in poverty and obscurity, being conspicuously a self-made man. His education was under the direction of his mother, yet at best was but superficial. Mr. Edison was born at Alva, Ohio, February nth, 1847. As soon as he was old enough to become interested in any study, he showed great fondness for chemistry. This indicated the bent of his mind, and was a prophecy that the natural sciences would be his favorite pursuit. While he was employed as a newsboy on a railway train, he determined to learn telegraphy. Here was the beginning of that remarkable career, and of those discoveries which, if they have not revolutionized the tele- graph system, have certainly promoted its efiiciency and perfected its instruments. While residing at Adrian, Mich., he opened a shop for repairing telegraph instruments and making new machinery. Subse- quently, at Indianapolis, he invented his automatic repeater, which was greatly in advance of any telegraph instrument then in existence, except the original one invented by Professor Morse. It is not too much to say that Mr. Edison's ideas have entered largely into all the electrical discoveries of recent time. He, or his assistants, prompted by his original conceptions, have contributed largely to all the scientific journals of the country. His inventions consist of improvements in the electric light and the telephone. He is also the inventor of the phonograph, the quadruplex and sextuplex transmitter, the microphone, the megaphone, the kinetoscope, the mimeograph, the electric pen, etc. In person Mr. Edison is rather tall, somewhat stocky, with smooth face and a youthful expression. He is capable of a great amount of work and has been known to spend sixty hours consecutively in his laboratory without sleep. He bears the title of Count, which was conferred upon him in Italy, in honor of his brilliant discoveries. THOMAS A. EDISON Prince Von Bismarck. THE dramatic career of the unique " Iron Chancellor " came to an end Saturday, July 30th, 1898, but he will not pass out of history any more than Alexander, Caesar, Peter the Great, Napoleon, Washington, Lincoln or Gladstone. He was born of an old noble family at Schonhausen, April ist, 1815, created count September i6th, 1865, and prince, March, 187 1. He was educated at the Universities at Gottingen and Griefswald, spent some time in the army and subsequently settled down as a country gentleman. In 1845 ^^ became a member of the Provincial Diet of Saxony, and of the Prussian Diet, in which his fiery eloquence in defence of the old monarchical party distinguished liim. Though practically a Secretary of State, Bismarck always accom- panied his royal master to the field of battle wearing his military uni- form. Historians may question whether the " Iron -Chancellor " or his illustrious master was the real author of German unity, but Kaiser William I. knew that Bismarck, and not he, remodelled the map of Europe. He was a dauntless man. After the emperor's death and differences grew up between him and the boy-emperor, William II., and the chancellor mingled freely with the Reichstag, a messenger told him one day that the emperor had ordered that he should not admit to his home any members of that body without the emperor's consent. Bis- marck sent back this reply : " Tell the emperor that I allow no one to control my threshold." This brought a call from the emperor himself, who asked : " Not when I command you as your sovereign ?" The sturdy German then declared : " My master's authority ends at my wife's drawing-room." There is another side to this strong man's character. His love of home, wife, and children was a marked characteristic. Always did he regard himself as a providential character. Before God he was humble. Writing to a friend he once said : " In honest penitence I perform my daily task. I, the minister of this state, am a Christian, and am resolved so to act as to be able to justify myself before God." Bismarck was one of the most distinguished men of the century. Possessed of a towering intellect, an unbending will, a masterly grasp of political situations, it may with truth be said that during a large part of his long and brilliant career events on the Continent of Europe happened only by his consent. At his death Emperor William paid a feeling tribute to his memory and he M^as buried with imposing cere- monies. PRINCE VON BISMARCK Napoleon Bonaparte. THE great French Emperor whose military genius is the most dazzling of any in modern times, and whose remarkable victories changed the map of Europe, was born on the 15th of August, 1769, in Corsica, a French island in the Mediterranean. He was sent to the military school of Brienne, 1777; became lieutenant of artillery, 1785 ; and for his services at the siege of Toulon was appointed briga- dier-general of artillery, 1793. At this time war was breaking out on all sides. Austria, Prussia, England, Holland, Spain, and Russia sent armies against France. The French raised a million of men and bade defiance to all Europe. In the French army was this young lieutenant of artillery. When the war began he was an unknown and friendless youth, but he distin- guished himself in every battle and every siege, till, in a few years, the whole world had heard of Napoleon Bonaparte. When he was twenty- six years old he conquered Italy. The next year he compelled the Emperor of Austria to make peace. In 1803 Bonaparte was elected Consul of the French Republic for life. Two years afterward he was proclaimed Emperor by the name of Napoleon. He had now more power than any of the ancient kings. Wherever he marched his conquering armies, monarchs humbled them- selves before liira. He drove them from their thrones and placed his own brothers and chief officers there instead. But in 1812 the spell of his success began to be broken. He invaded Russia with a vast arni}^ and penetrated to the city of Moscow. The Russians set the city on fire. Winter was coming on and the French soldiers had nowhere to shelter themselves. They retreated toward Poland, but before they reached the frontier three-fourths of the army were destroyed. The Emperor fled homeward in a sledge and returned to Paris. He soon raised new armies and was ready to take the field again. But all the nations of Europe were now against him and he suffered disastrous defeats. Having been banished to the Island of Elba he remained there almost a year, but in March, 1815, he sud- denly landed again on the French coast and a new army sprang to their feet to carry his banner to victory. The nations of Europe now mus- tered their armies once more and Napoleon's last battle was fought at Waterloo on the i8th of June, 1815. There he was utterly overthrown and France was overthrown with him. He was banished to the Island of St. Helena and there died. In 1840 his remains were brought back to France and deposited in a splendid mausoleum erected for them. NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. Hon. William E. Gladstone. T TILLIAM E. GLADSTONE, who Mr. Balfour, the leader of the WL House of Commons at the time, said was " the greatest member of the greatest deliberative assembly in the world," was born December 29th, 1809. He was of Scottish blood and English birth. His father lived to be eighty-seven years old, and when twenty years old was sent by his father to Liverpool to sell a cargo of wheat. This resulted in his settlement in that city, where he became a great mer- chant, a member of Parliament and a baronet. William E. Gladstone had both a distaste and seeming incapacity for arithmetic. When fifteen he entered Eton College and stayed six years, devoting his main attention to Latin and Greek. In 1827 ^^ entered Oxford, where he distinguished himself in oratory. On leaving Oxford he thought of entering the ministry, but his father dissuaded him. He went abroad, and on his return, in 1832, was elected to Par- liament as a Tory. , His first speech was in favor of slavery, and con- tained sentiments which he soon afterward retracted. When twenty-five years of age he was appointed Junior Lord of the Treasury, and six months later promoted to the ofG.ce of Under Secretary for the Colonies. Following this his party went out of power, and he devoted himself more closely to study, writing his first book, *' The State in its Rela- tions with the Church." His eyesight being unfavorably affected by this work he went to Rome, where met and afterward married Catherine Glynne, of Hawarden Castle, a woman of means and rare gifts. Gladstone's most wonderful triumphs in debate were in dealing with financial questions. In the discussions of the Home Rule bill his remarkable versatility dazzled the eyes of the world. His broad views and enthusiasm for radical progress enabled him to accomplish more for the oppressed of other lands than any other British statesman. As an orator he excelled every parliamentary leader of the Victorian age except John Bright, and in readiness and abundance of resources he was vastly his superior. Had he not been a great statesman and famous orator he would have been a great author. Altogether he produced more than sixty publications. Had he not been either of these he would have been a great and good man. He always found time for the exacting duties of religion, and was a representative of the highest type of , Christian character. No taint nor stain ever tarnished his public or private life. " The nation which possesses one such man cannot perish while he lives." Mr. Gladstone died on May i8th, 1898. HON. WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE. Henry Clay. THIS eminent American orator and statesman was born in Hanover County, Va., April 12th, 1777. After preparatory study of the law he was admitted to the bar in 1797, and speedily established a brilliant practice in Lexington, Ky. Commencing his political career in 1799, as a Democrat of the Jefferson school, Clay was elected to the State Legislature in 1804, and in 1806 and 1809 sat as a Senator in Congress, having been sent for short terms. In 181 1 he became a member of the House of Representatives, and towards the close of the year was elected its Speaker. Re-elected to the same position in 18 13, he resigned it in January, 1814, to proceed to Europe as one of the Peace Commissioners to treat with Great Britain. After participating in the signing of the Treaty of Ghent in December of that year. Clay returned home to again assume the Speakership. In 1816 he supported the United States Bank charter; in 1821 he earn- estly advocated the Missouri Compromise, and in 1824 was an unsuc- cessful candidate for the Presidency of the Union. In 1825 Clay became Secretary of State; was elected United States Senator 1831-1837, and in 1832 accepted the Presidential candidature of the anti-Jackson party, only to be again defeated. In 1832-1833 he caused the passing of the Compromise Tariff ; supported General Har- rison for the Presidency in 1840 ; advocated a national banking system, and the distribution of the public domains among the respective States. In 1844 the National Whig Convention nominated him the third time for the Presidency, with as little success as before. He strenuously opposed the acquisition of Texas, and in 1848, having been again elected to the Senate, he there took a prominent part in effecting the Compro- mise of 1850, which deferred for ten years the impending struggle between the North and South on the question of slavery. He died at Washington in 1852, leaving behind him a name and fame foremost in the annals of American eloquence and statesmanship. Henry Clay was a poor boy, but he had what is better than riches — a thirst for knowledge, great industry and perseverance, a character that was incorruptible and a remarkable gift of eloquence. He was a self-made man and was well made, as such men are almost sure to be. In his brilliant career we see illustrated the high position with which our country rewards young men of ability, who, although poor and without personal influence in their favor, make the most of their oppor- tunities, pursue their object with enthusiasm and are resolved to conquer all difficulties. vir , , o^ Daniel Webster. THIS illustrious American statesmau, jurist, and orator, was born at Salisbury, N. H., in 1872, of respectable but comparatively humble parentage. After receiving his rudimentary education at Exeter and Boscawen academies, he entered Dartmouth College in 1797, as a freshman, and after graduating in 1801, entered upon the study of the law at Salisbury and Boston, in which latter city he was called to the bar in 1S05. In 1807 he went into practice at Portsmouth, and, after earning a high legal reputation, was elected by the Federal party to the lower house of Congress in 1813, where he opposed the war with England, and at once rose into prominence as an able debater. Re-elected in 1815, he shared in the discussion of the United States Bank Charter and specie payment questions. Meanwhile he had risen to the highest rank in his profession as a constitutional lawyer, and also as a consum- mate leader in criminal causes. In 1820 he served as a member of the Convention met to revise the Constitution of Massachusetts, and in 1822 was re-elected to Congress, where, as chairman of the Judiciary Committee, he rendered eminent assistance in the entire revision of the United States criminal code. In 1828, he became Senator, and in 1830, in opposing the Nullifi- cation doctrine advanced by South Carolina statesmen, delivered perhaps the most splendid outburst of patriotic oratory ever heard within the Congress of the American Union. In 1834 Mr. Webster became a prominent leader of the Whig party, and in 1841 was appointed Secre- tary of State under President Harrison, retaining the office during Mr. Tyler's chief magistracy. The most remarkable event of his official term was the so-called Ashburton Treaty with England, in settlement of the Northeast Boun- dary question. Re-elected to the Senate in 1844, ^^ opposed alike the admission of Texas into the Union and the prosecution of the war with Mexico, and supported Henry Clay's " Compromise Measures " of 1850 in relation to the extension of slavery to new territories. In 1850 he again became Secretary of State, this time under Mr. Fillmore, and was unsuccessfully nominated for the Presidency in the National Whig Convention of 1852. He died October 24th, in the latter year. Webster went by the name of " the Godlike Daniel," a name given him on account of his commanding presence, his wonderful powers of mind and his marvellous eloquence, which has probabl}^ never been surpassed in the annals of statesmanship. ^^^;.^ //-^^^^ Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. THIS distinguished American minister and writer, a son of Dr. Lyman Beecher, was born in Litchfield, Conn., on the 24th of June, 1813. He appears to have given in childhood but little promise of dis- tinction. But even while a boy he proved that, if he did not inherit the eloquence, he inherited at least something of the controversial ability of his father. A forward schoolboy among the elder scholars had got hold of Paine's "Age of Reason," and was flourishing largely among the boys with objections to the Bible. Henry privately looked up Watson's "Apolog3%" studied up the subject, and challenged a debate with the big boy, in which he came off victorious by the acclamation of bis schoolfellows. This occurred when he was about eleven years old. He manifested at this period little inclination for severe study, but bad conceived a passionate desire to go to sea. His father adroitly used this desire to induce him to commence a course of mathematics with a view to qualify himself to become a naval officer. He applied himself energetically to his new studies, " with his face to the navy, and Nelson as his beau ideal." But not long afterwards there occurred in that section of the country a religious " revival," and young Beecher, with many others, was powerfully impressed. The result was that the naval scheme was abandoned, and his thoughts were directed to the pulpit as his natural and proper sphere. After going through the preparatory studies, he entered Amherst College, where he graduated in 1834 ; and soon after he commenced the study of theology at Lane Seminary, under the direction of his father. He began his ministerial course at Lawrenceburg, Indiana, but removed soon after to Indianapolis. In 1847 ^^ became pastor of Plymouth Church (Congregational) in Brooklyn, where he gathered around him an immense congregation. He was also one of the most popular writers and most successful lecturers in America. His success as a public speaker was due not so much to what is popularly termed eloquence as to a flow of racy and original thought, which, though often enlivened with flashes of quaint humor, was not without an undercurrent of deep moral and spiritual earnestness. In 1850 Mr. Beecher published a volume of " Lectures to Young Men." He was one of the originators of " The Independent " (to which he was for nearly twenty years a prominent contributor), favored the Free-Soil movement in 1852, and actively supported the Republican party in 1856 and i860. In the Civil War he was among the most zealous and efiicient champions of the government. Died March 8, 1887. J^£...^y?yrs^ YUOeju^i^^ Frances E. Willard. IN every walk of life where it is possible for woman to display her talents, her success has been conspicuous. Our country has ever}^ reason to be proud of those members of the gentler sex who have commanded attention in authorship, sometimes in business, especially in works of reform, and whose influence has always been upon the side of good morals, higher education, and the development of the noblest womanhood. While our progress as a nation has been rapid and such as to draw the wondering attention of the world, it is not all due to soldiers or statesmen. Our history could not be correctl}^ written without mention of those women who, in the walks of private life, and frequently in more public spheres, have made their influence felt and have been leaders of thought and public opinion. One of our most distinguished American women is the subject of this sketch. No one was more widely known or universally respected. She possessed talents of an unusual order, a warm and earnest spirit, untiring energy, the ability to influence others, and seemed to be lacking in none of those qualities essential to successful achievement. Miss Willard was known throughout the country for her devotion to the cause of reform, especially that branch of it embraced in temper- ance work. She attended meetings and conventions, and lectured in every part of the land, and was always received with the attention due to her position and character and the worthy objects she sought to pro- mote. She was eloquent in the best sense of the term, very fluent in speech, possessed of unusual tact, and was heard by multitudes who were in the habit of affirming that they " did not care to hear a woman speak in public." It may be truthfully said that her career exhibits all those elements which go to make one independent, aggressive, and progressive likewise. Throughout her life she never thrust herself into notice, but simply embraced the opportunities open to her, and entered the field of useful- ness when she heard the call for service. She was born in Churchville^ N. Y., September 28th, 1839, ^^^ was educated at Milwaukee and the Northwestern Female College at Bvanston, 111., from which she gradu- ated in 1859. She became Professor of Natural Science there in 1862,. and was principal of Genesee Wesleyan Seminary in 1866-67. Miss Willard died in the early part of 1898, greatly lamented by a host of admirers and friends throughout the country. ^fRANCES E. WILLARD. Adelina Patti. Adelina Patti was born at Madrid, April 9, 1843, In early youtb she came to America with her parents and studied music with, her brother-in-law, Maurice Strakosch. She first appeared in New York, Nov. 24, 1859, and her voice at once attracted attention. In 1861 she appeared in London in " La Somnambula." She took the town by storm and became the prime favorite of the day. Since then she has maintained her rank and is to-day the most popular operatic star living. Not only is she an unexampled vocalist, but her acting is such as would place her in the first rank, were she not gifted with song. The parts which she sings are numerous, and her " Lucia " in the " Bride of Lammermoor," " Violetta " and " Zerlina " are equally famed. It was, however, as " Rosina " in "II Barbiere de Seviglia " that she showed her comic powers. In 1863 she attempted the part of " Ninetta" in " La Gaza Ladra " and gained a signal triumph. In 1864 she sang *' Margherita " in Gounod's " Faust " and in 1867 "Juliet " in " Romeo and Juliet." In May, 1868, she was married at the Roman Catholic Church, Chapham, to the Marquis de Caux, but the marriage proved so stormy that a divorce was obtained. In the early part of 1870 Patti visited Russia, where she met with an enthusiastic reception, receiving from Alexander II. the Order of Merit, and the appointment as First Singer of the Imperial Court. Upon her return to America a few years ago she was received with great eclat, and sang to overflowing houses, over the whole country. The extortionate prices demanded for seats seemed to increase rather than diminish the desire to hear her, and during the few years she starred here she accumulated a fortune. Patti is the " Queen of Song,"' and no other cantatrice, with the single exception of Jenny Lind., has ever gained a fame so world-wide and a popularity so universal. ADELINA PATTJ. James Whitcomb Riley. ANEW generation of writers has come forward, with characteristics widely different from those of their predecessors in the field of literature. Their writings are more distinctively American — perhaps it would be more appropriate to say — West-American. There is a breeziness about them — an off-hand dash — a disregard of conven- tionalities which we do not discover among such men as Irving, Bryant, Longfellow and others, who may be said to have created our literature and stamped it with their genius. Both fiction and poetry have taken on what may be called a new style. The aim to entertain, to present the humorous side of things, to make a quick, even though superficial impression, is very apparent. It would be unjust, however, to deny unusual merit to the new class of authors. They are splendidly endowed. To brilliant native talent many of them add great industry, a profound knowledge of human nature, and of what is demanded by the popular taste. James Whitcomb Riley has been given the title of the " Hoosier Poet of America." This is partly owing to the State in which he was born and lives. He has been a contributor for some years to current literature, showing in his writings so much of pith and pungency, together with a healthful moral tone, that his productions have been widely read and enjoyed. He was born in Greenfield, Indiana, in 1852. In his boyhood he often accompanied his father, who was an attorney, as he went from place to place transacting his business, and thus early came into con- tact with the world, which has so much to do with the education and development of the young mind. For a time he was connected with a theatrical troupe, and showed some aptitude for revising and adapting plays. He also began to show a talent for song-writing and improvising lines on the spur of the moment, thus indicating that he had a ready wit, and not merely the kind which is studied up and manufactured for the occasion. Over the name of " Benjamin F. Johnson, of Boone," he began, about the year 1875, to contribute verses in the Hoosier dialect to the Indianapolis papers. These attracted considerable attention, suggesting an interesting field of literature, which he resolved, sooner or later, to occupy. It was evident that dialect poems were relished by the public, and as these were written upon subjects near at hand, and such as appealed to the popular heart, Mr. Riley found himself growing in favor, and from that day has continued in active literary work. JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY. Eucrene Field. ■55 ON the fourth day of November, 1895, there was many a sad home in the city of Chicago and throughout America. It was on that day that Eugene Field, the most congenial friend young children ever had among the literary men of America, died at the early age of forty- five. The expressions of regard and regret called out on all sides by this untimely death, made it clear that the character in which the public at large knew and loved Mr. Field best was that of the *' Poet of Child Life." What gives his poems their unequaled hold on the popular heart is their simplicity, warmth and genuineness. This quality they owe to the fact that Mr. Field almost lived in the closest and fondest intimacy with children. He had troops of them for his friends and it is said he wrote his child-poems directly under their suggestions and inspiration. His association with his fellow-workers was equally congenial. No man who had ever known him felt the slightest hesitancy in approaching him. He had the happy faculty of making them always feel welcome. It was a common happening in the Chicago newspaper office for some tramp of a fellow, who had known him in the days gone by, to walk boldly in and blurt out, as if confident in the power of the name he spoke — " Is 'Gene Field here ? I knew 'Gene Field in Denver, or I worked with 'Gene Field on the ' Kansas City Times.' " These were sufficient passwords and never failed to call forth the cheery voice from Field's room — "That's all right, show him in here, he's a friend of mine." Eugene Field was born in St, Louis, Missouri, September 2d, 1850. Part of his early life was passed in Vermont and Massachusetts. He was educated in a university in Missouri. From 1873 to 1883 he was connected with various newspapers in Missouri and Colorado. He joined the staff of the Chicago "Daily News" in 1883 and removed to Chicago, where he continued to reside until his death, twelve years later. Of Mr. Field's books, "The Denver Tribune Primer" was issued in 1882; " Culture Garden " (1887) ; " Little Book of Western Friends " (1889) ; and " Little Book of Profitable Tales " (1889). Mr. Field was not only a writer of child verses, but wrote some first-class Western dialectic verse, did some translating, was an excellent newspaper correspondent, and a critic of no mean ability ; but he was too kind-hearted and liberal to chastise a brother severely who did not come up to the highest literary standard. He was a hard worker, con- tributing daily, during his later years, from one to three columns to the "Chicago News," besides writing more or less for the " Syndicate Press" and various periodicals. EUGENE FIEED. Rear-Acimiral VV. S. Schley. W INFIELD SCOTT SCHLEY, whose name will be identified witli the great naval victory of Santiago, is the lineal descendant of a sturdy German schoolmaster who emigrated to Maryland in the year 1735. The Rev. Edward Huber says : " Perhaps few members of the Schley family even know that the destroyer of Cervera's fleet at Santiago is the direct descendant of a humble but vigorous German schoolmaster. His name was Thomas Schley, and he arrived in the spring of the year 1735 at Annapolis, Maryland, in charge of a party of emigrants from the Palatinate and Switzerland. Altogether, there were about one hundred families. They settled on both banks of Carroll creek, three miles from Monocacy river, on an extensive piece of land owned by Daniel Dulaney, of Annapolis. The emigrants could boast of but little wealth, but plenty of muscle, thrift and Teutonic energy.'' Admiral Schley rose step by step to the high position of Admiral in our navy. He acted on the principle that merit wins. In response to a telegram congratulating him on the destruction of Cervera's fleet he wrote : " Victory belongs to every officer and man of the fleet." When the Spanish Admiral was taken on board the Iowa and was conversing with Captain Evans and Schley in the cabin, with tears in his eyes he said : " My career is ended. I shall go back to Spain and be killed or die in disgrace." Admiral Schley put out his hand and rested it on Cervera's shoulder, and in perfect Spanish said : "Admiral you are a brave man, and coming out as you did in the face of a superior force is but an exemplification of that bravery. Your countrj^ can but do you honor." Admiral Cervera threw his arms around the Admiral and said : "Ah, sailors are always gentlemen." Admiral Schley was born in a little place called Richfield, near Frederick, Maryland. In 1863 he married Miss Rebecca Franklin, being then twenty-three years old. He graduated from the Naval Academy at Annapolis in i860. Probably no naval officer in the world has had such varied experi- ence of so many kinds, in war and peace, as Admiral Schley. Briefly, it is this : In 1861-65, active service in the Civil War ; 1865, suppressed a riot of 400 Chinamen on one of the Chincha Islands, also landed in La Union, San Salvador, because of an insurrection, and took possession of the Custom-House to protect American interests ; 18S4, rescued Greely, the Artie explorer; 1890, took Ericsson's body to Sweden; July 3d, 1898, destroyed Cervera's fleet near Santiago. PHUPsm/fg STARTING RIGHT OR THE INFLUENCE OF HOME CHAPTER I. "JUST AS THE TWIG IS BENT THE TREE'S INCLINED." f NLY the right kind of a home can furnish the right start in the world. From a good seed and good soil grows a good tree, and even good seed cannot thrive well in a poor soil. Says the well-known author, J. G. Holland, "Any feeling that takes a man away from his home is a traitor to the household." Home is the first and most important school of character. It is there that every human being receives his best moral training, or his worst ; for it is there that he imbibes those principles of conduct which endure through manhood, and cease only with life. It is a common saying that " Manners make the man ; " and there is a second, that " Mind makes the man ; " but truer than either is a third, that " Home makes the man." For the home-training includes not only manners and mind, but character. It is mainly in the home that the heart is opened, the habits are formed, the intellect is awakened, and character moulded for good or for evil. From that source, be it pure or impure, issue the principles and maxims that govern society. The tiniest bits of opinion sown in the minds of children in private life afterwards issue forth to the world, and become its pub- lic opinion ; for Nations are gathered out oi nurseries, and they who hold the leading- strings of children are rulers. The Star of Home. I remember the days when my spirit would turn From the fairest of scenes and the sweetest of song. When the hearth of the stranger seemed coldly to burn, And the moments of pleasure for me were too long , For one name and oneforni shone in glory and light. And lured back from all that might tempt me to roam, The festal was joyous, but was not so bright As the smile of a mother, the star of my home. The sharpest of pain, and the saddest of woes, The darkest, the deepest of shadows might come ; Yet each wound had its balm, while my soul could repose On the heart of a mother, the star of my home, Eliza Cook, It is in the order of nature that domestic life should be preparatory to social, and that the mind and character should first be formed in the home. There the individuals who afterwards form society are dealt with in detail, and fashioned one by one. From the family they enter life, and advance from boy- hood to citizenship. Thus the home maybe regarded as the most influential school of civilization. For, after all, civilization mainly 17 IS THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. resolves itself into a question of individual training; and according as the respective members of society are well or ill trained in youth, so will the community which they constitute be more or less benefited and elevated. The training of any man, even the wisest, cannot fail to be powerfully influenced by the moral surroundings of his early years. He comes into the world helpless, and absolutely dependent upon those about him for nurture and culture. From the very first breath that he draws, his education begins. When a mother once asked a clergyman when she should begin the education of her child, then four years old, he replied : " Madam, if you have not begun already, you have lost those four years. From the first smile that gleams upon an infant's cheek, your opportunity begins." An Arabian Proverb. But even in this case the education had already begun ; for the child learns by simple imitation, without effort, almost through the pores of the skin. "A fig-tree looking on a fig-tree becometh fruitful," says the Arabian proverb. And so it is with the children ; their first great instructor is example. However apparently trivial the influences which contribute to form the character of the child, they endure through life. The child's character is the nucleus of the man's ; all after-education is merely what is added ; the form of the crystal remains the same. Thus the saying of the poet holds true in a large degree, " The child is father of the man ; " or, as Milton puts it, " The childhood shows the man, as morning shows the day." Those impulses to conduct which last the longest and are rooted the deepest, always I'lve their origin near our birth. It is then i....t the germs of virtues or vices, of feelings or sentiments, are first implanted which deter- mine the character for life. The child is, as it were, laid at the gate of a new world, and opens his eyes upon things all of which are full of novelty and wonder- ment. At first it is enough for him to gaze ; but by-and-by he begins to think, to observe, to compare, to learn, to store up impressions and ideas ; and under wise guidance the progress which he makes is really wonderful. Lord Brougham has observed that between the ages of eighteen and thirty months, a child learns more of the material world, of his own powers, of the nature of other bodies^ and even of his own mind and other minds, than he acquires in all the rest of his life. The Mother's Influence. It is in childhood that the mind is most open to impressions, and ready to be kindled by the first spark that falls into it. Ideas are then caught quickly and live lastingly. Thus Scott is said to have received his first bent towards ballad literature from his mother and grandmother's recitations in his hearing long before he himself had learned to read. Childhood is like a mirror, which reflects in after-life the images first presented to it. The first thing continues forever with the child. The first joy, the first sorrow, the first success, the first failure, the first achievement, the first misadventure, paint the foreground of his life. All this while, too, the training of the character is in progress — of the temper, the will, and the habits — on which so much of the happiness of human beings in after-life depends. Although man is endowed with a certain self-acting, self-helping power of con- tributing to his own development, independent of surrounding circumstances, and of reacting upon the life around him, the bias given to his moral character in early life is of immense 'THE CHEERFUL HOME PRESENTS ITS SMILING FACE. Thomas Campbell. 19 20 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. imp>>rtance, and goes far toward shaping his whole future course. Place even the highest-minded philosopher in the midst of daily discomfort, immorality and vileness, and he will insensibly gravitate towards brutality. How much more sus- ceptible is the impressionable and helpless child amidst such surroundings ! It is not possible to rear a kindly nature, sensitive to evil, pure in mind and heart, amidst coarse- ness, discomfort and impurity. How true it is that home is the one place we never forget ; the memory of it lives as long as we do. 'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home. A charm from the skies seems to hallow it there, Which, go through the world, you'll not meet with elsewhere. Home, home, sweet home ! There's no place like home. An exile from home, pleasure dazzles in vain ; Ah ! give me my lowly thatched cottage again, The birds singing sweetly that come to my call ; Oh, give me sweet peace of mind, dearer than all ! Home, sweet, sweet home ! There's no place like home. John Howard Payne. There is music in the word home. To the old it brings a bewitching strain from the harp of memory ; to the young it is a reminder of all that is near and dear to them. Among the many songs we are wont to listen to, there is not one more cherished than this touching melody of " Home, Sweet Home." "What a Song of Home Did. Passing through the splendid thorough- fares of Paris one night was an Englishman, who had left his home and native land to view the splendors and enjoy the pleasures of a foreign country. He had beheld with delight its paintings, its sculpture, and the grand yet graceful proportions of its build- ings, and had yielded to the spell of the sweetest muse. Yet, in the midst of its keenest happiness, when he was rejoicing most over the privileges he possessed, tempta- tions assailed him. Sin was presented to him in one of its most bewitching garbs. He drank wildly and deeply of the intoxicating cup, and his draught brought madness. Reason was overwhelmed, and he rushed out, all his scruples overcome, careless of what he did or how deeply he became immersed in the hitherto unknown sea of guilt. He Listened Intently. The cool night air lifted the damp locks from his heated brow, and swept with sooth- ing touch over his flushed cheeks. Walking on, calmer, but no less determined, strainsof music from a distance met his ear. Follow- ing in the direction the sound indicated, he at length distinguished the words and air. The song was well remembered. It was " Home, Sweet Home." Clear and sweet the voice of some English singer rose and fell on the air, in the soft cadences of that beloved melody. Motionless, the wanderer listened till the last note floated away and he could hear nothing but the ceaseless murmur of a great city. Then he turned slowly, with no feeling that his manhood was shamed by the tear which fell as a bright evidence of the power of song. The demon that dwells in the wine had fled ; and reason once more asserted her right to control. As the soft strains of " Sweet Home " had floated to his ear, mem- ory brought up before him his own " sweet home." He saw his gentle mother, and heard her speak, while honest pride beamed from her eye, of her son, in whose nobleness "JUST AS THE TWIG IS BENT THE TREE'S INCLINED." 21 and honor she could always trust ; and his heart smote him as he thought how little he de erved such confidence. He remembered her last words of love and counsel, and the tearful farewell of all those dear ones who gladdened that far-away home with their presence. Well he knew their pride in his integrity, and the tide of remorse swept over his spirit as he felt what their sorrow would be could they have seen him an hour before. Subdued and repentant, he retraced his steps, and with this vow never to taste of the ter- rible draught that could so excite him to madness was mingled a deep sense of thank- fulness for his escape from further degradation. The influence of home had protected him, though the sea rolled between. A Cheerful Home. None can tell how often the commission of crime is prevented by such memories. If, then, the spell of home is so powerful, how important it is to make it pleasant and lovable i Many a time a cheerful home and smiling face do more to make good men and . women, than all the learning and eloquence that can be used. It has been said that the sweetest words in our language are " Mother, Home and Heaven;" and one might almost say the word home included them all ; for who can think of home without remembering the gentle mother who sanctified it by her pres- ence ? And is not home the dearest name for heaven ? We think of that better land as a home where brightness will never end in , night. Oh, then, may our homes on earth be the centers of all our joys ; may they be as green spots in the desert, to which we can retire when weary of the cares and perplexities of life, and drink the clear waters of a love which we know to be sincere and always unfailing. Sweet is the smile of home ; the mutual look Where hearts are of each other sure ; Sweet all the joys that crowd the household nook, The haunt of all affections pure. John Keble. Thus homes, which are the nurseries of children who grow up into men and women, will be good or bad according to the power that governs them. Where the spirit of love and duty pervades the home — where head and heart bear rule wisely there — where the daily life is honest and virtuous — where the government is sensible, kind, and loving, then may we expect from such a home an issue of healthy, useful, and happy beings, capable, as they gain the requisite strength, of following the footsteps of their parents, of walking uprightly, governing themselves wisely, and contributing to the welfare of those about them. Children are Imitators. On the other hand, surrounded by igno- rance, coarseness, and selfishness, they will unconsciously assume the same char- acter, and grow up to adult years rude, uncultivated, and all the more dangerous to society if placed amidst the manifold temp- tations of what is called civilized life. " Give your child to be educated by a slave," said an ancient Greek, " and, instead of one slave, you will then have tv/o." The child cannot help imitating what he sees. Every thing is to him a model — of manner, of gesture, of speech, of habit, of character. "For the child," says Richter, "the most important era of life is that of childhood, when he begins to color and mould himself by companionship with others. Every new educator effects less than his pre- decessor ; until at last, if we regard all life as an educational institution, a circumnaviga- tor of the world is less influenced by all the 22 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. nations he has seen than by his nurse." Models are, therefore, of great importance in moulding the nature of the child ; and if we would have fine characters, we must necessarily present before them fine models. Now, the model most constantly before every child's eye is the mother. Thieves Cannot Teach Honesty. One good mother, said George Herbert, is worth a hundred school-masters. In the home she is "loadstone to all hearts, and loadstar to all eyes." Imitation of her is constant, and example is far more than pre- cept. It is instruction in action. It is teach- ing without words, often exemplifying more than tongue can teach. In the face of bad example, the best of precepts are of but little avail. The example is followed, not the precepts. Indeed, precept at variance with practice is worse than useless, inasmuch as it only serves to teach the most cowardly of vices — hypocrisy. Even children are judges of consistency, and the lessons of the parent who says one thing and does the opposite, are quickly seen through. The teaching of the friar was not worth much who preached the virtue of honesty with a stolen goose in his sleeve. By imitation of acts, the character be- comes slowly and imperceptibly, but at length decidedly formed. The several acts may seem in themselves trivial ; but so are the continuous acts of daily life. Like snow- flakes, they fall unperceived ; each flake added to the pile produces no sensible change, and yet the accumulation of snow- flakes makes the avalanche. So do repeated acts, one following another, at length become consolidated in habit, determine the action of the human being for good or for evil, and, in a word, form the character. It is becau.'-^e the mother, far more than the father, influences the action and conduct of the child, that her good example is of so much greater importance in the home. It is easy to understand how this should be so. The home is the woman's domain — her kingdom, where she exercises entire control. Her power over the little subjects she rules, there is absolute. They look up to her for everything. She is the example and model constantly before their eyes, whom they unconsciously observe and imitate. Letters Cut in the Bark. Cowley, speaking of the influence of early example, and ideas early implanted in the mind, compares them to letters cut in the bark of a young tree, which grow and widert with age. The impressions then made, how- soever slight they may seem, are never effaced. The ideas then implanted in the mind are like seeds dropped into the ground, which lie there and germinate for a time, afterwards springing up in acts and thoughts and habits. Thus the mother lives again i;i her children. They unconsciously mouIJ! themselves after her manner, her speech, her. conduct, and her method of life. Her habi:s: become theirs ; and her character is \isibly repeated in them. This maternal love is the visible provi- dence of our race. Its influence is constLint and universal. It begins with the educitioa of the human being at the outstart of hfc,, and is prolonged by \irtue of the powerful influence which every good mother exercise- over her children through life. Whcit launched into the world, each to take p ut in. its labors, anxieties and trials, they sir,! tu n to their mother for consolation, if not f j; counsel, in their time of trouble and diffi culty. The pure and good thoughts she has implanted in their minds when children con- tinue to grow up into good act.', long after GRAFTING THg YOUNG TRBE. 24 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. slhe is dead ; and when there is nothing but a memory of her left, her children rise up and call her blessed; It is not saying too much to aver that the happiness or misery, the enlightenment or ignorance, the civilization or barbarism of the world, depends in a very high degree upon the exercise of woman's power within her special kingdom of home. Indeed, Emerson says, broadly and truly, that " a sufficient measure of civilization is the influ- ence of good women." Posterity may be said to lie before us in the person of the child in the mother's lap. What that child will eventually become, mainly depends upon the training and example which he has received from his first and most influential educator. Woman, above all other educators, edu- cates through the affections. Man is the brain, but woman is the heart of humanity ; he its judgment, she its feeling; he its strength, she its grace, ornament and solace. Even the understanding of the best woman seems to work mainly through her affections. And thus, though man may direct the intel- lect, woman cultivates the feelings, which mainly determine the character. While he fills the memory, she occupies the heart. She makes us love what he can only make us believe, and it is chiefly through her that we are enabled to arrive at virtue. Boyhood of Augustine. The respective influences of the father and the mother on the training and develop- ment of character are remarkably illustrated in the life of St. Augustine. While Augus- tine's father, a poor freeman of Thagaste, proud of his son's abilities, endeavored to furnish his mind with the highest learning of the schools, and was extolled by his neigh- bors for the sacrifices he made for that object, " beyond the ability of his means " — his mother, Monica, on the other hand, sought to lead her son's mind in the direc- tion of the highest good, and with pious care counselled him, entreated him, advised him to chastity, and, amidst much anguish and tribulation, because of his wicked life, never ceased to pray for him until her prayers were heard and answered. Thus her love at last triumphed, and the patience and goodness of the mother were rewarded, not only by the conversion of her gifted son, but also of her husband. Later in hfe, and after her husband's death, Monica, drawn by her affection, followed her son to Milan, to watch over him ; and there she died, when he Avas in his thirty-third year. But it was in the earlier period of his Hfe that her example and instruction made the deepest impression upon his mind, and determined his future character. First Impressions the Most Lasting. There are many similar instances of early impressions made upon a child's mind, springing up into good acts late in life, after an intervening period of selfishness and vice. Parents may do all that they can to develop an upright and virtuou.s character in their children, and apparently in vain. It seems like bread cast upon the waters and lost. And yet sometimes it happens that long after the parents have gone to their rest — it may be twenty years or more — the good precept, the good example set before their sons and daughters in childhood, at length springs up and bears fruit. One of the most remarkable of such in- stances was that of the Rev. John Newton, of Olney, the friend of Cowper, the poet. It was long subsequent to the death of both his parents, and after leading a vicious life as a youth and as a seaman, that he became JUST AS THE TWIG IS BENT THE TREE'S INCLINED. 25 suddenly awakened to a sense of his de- pravity; and then it was that the lessons -which his mother had given him when a child sprang up vividly in his memory. Her voice came to him as it were from the dead, and led him gently back to virtue and good- ness. John Randolph's Mother. Another instance is that of John Randolph^ our American statesman, who once said : " I should have been an atheist if it had not been for one recollection — and that was the memory of the time when my departed mother used to take my little hand in hers, and cause me on my knees to say, 'Our Father who art in heaven ! ' " As the character is biased in early life, so it generally remains, gradually assuming its permanent form as manhood is reached. " Live as long as you may," said Southey, ■" the first twenty years are the longest half ■of your life," and they are by far the most pregnant in consequences. The poorest dwelling, presided over by a -virtuous, thrifty, cheerful, and cleanly woman, may thus be the abode of comfort, virtue, and happiness; it may be the scene of every ennobling relation in family life; it may be ■endeared to a man by many delightful asso- ciations; furnishing a sanctuary for the heart, a refuge from the storms of life, a sweet resting-place after labor, a consolation in misfortune, a pride in prosperity, and a joy at all times. The good home is thus the best of schools, jiot only in youth but in age. There young and old best learn cheerfulness, patience, self control, and the spirit of service and of duty. Izaak Walton, speaking of George Herbert's mother, says she governed her family with judicious care, not rigidly nor .sourly, "but with such a sweetness and compliance with the recreations and plea- sures of youth, as did incline them to spend much of their time in her company, which was to her great content." There is no spot, or high or lo-w. Which darkness visits not at times ; No shelter from the reach of -fs^oe, In farthest lands of fairest climes. The tempests shake the stoutest tree, And every flow'ret droops in turn : To mourn is nature's destiny, And all that live must live to mourn. No home so happy, but that pain, And grief, and care, the doors -will press, "When love's most anxious thoughts are vain, More anxious firom their helplessness. And yet, if aught can soften grief, 'Tis home's sweet influence ; if there be Relief from sorro'w, that relief Springs from domestic sympathy. The home that virtue hallo'vrs, flings Another bliss o'er blessedness ; And e'en to sorrow's children brings Or peace to calm, or hope to bless. John Bowring. Old Dr. Cotton was celebrated for his skill in treating diseases of insanity. A consid- erable part of his treatment is contained in the following lines, which are worth learning and always remembering : Dear Chloe, we will oft retire To our own family and fire. Where love our hours employs ; No noisy neighbor enters here, No intermeddling stranger near. To spoil our heartfelt joys. If solid happiness we prize, Within our breast this jewel lies, And they are fools who roam ; The world hath nothing to bestow — From our own selves our bliss must flow, And that dear hut, our home. Our portion is not large, indeed ; But then how little do we need. For nature's calls, are few ; 26 THE INFLUENCE ' OF HOME. In this the art of living lies, To want no more than may suffice, And make that little do. We'll therefore relish with content Whate'er kind Providence has sent, Nor aim beyond our power ; For, if our stock be very small, 'Tis prudence to enjoy it all, Nor lose the present hour. To be resigned when ills betide, Patient when favors are denied, And pleased with favors given : Dear Chloe, this is wisdom's part, This is that incense of the heart. Whose fragrance smells to heaven. Nathaniel Cotton. But while homes, which are the nurseries of character, may be the best of schools, they may also be the worst. Between child- hood and manhood how incalculable is the mischief which ignorance in the home has the power to cause! Between the drawing of the first breath and the last, how vast is ihc moral suffering and disease occasioned by incompetent mothers and nurses ! Com- mit a child to the care of a worthless, igno- rant woman, and no culture in after-life will remedy the evil you have done. The Mother of Napoleon. Let the mother be idle, vicious, and a slattern ; let her home be pervaded by cavil- ling, petulance, and discontent, and it will become a dwelling of misery — a place to fly from, rather than to fly to ; and the children whose misfortune it is to be brought up there will be morally dwarfed and deformed — the cause of misery to themselves as well as to others. Napoleon Bonaparte was accustomed to say that "the future good or bad conduct of a child depended entirely on the mother." He himself attributed his rise in life in a great measure to the training of his will, his energy, and his self control, by his mother at home. " Nobody had any command over him," says one of his biographers, "except his mother, who found means, by a mixture of tenderness, severity, and justice, to make him love, respect, and obey her; from her he learnt the virtue of obedience." The Noblest Work, The greater part of the influence exercised! by women on the formation of character necessarily remains unknown. They ac- complish their best works in the quiet seclusion of the home and the family, by- sustained effort and patient perseverance in the path of duty. Their greatest triumphs,. because private and domestic, are rarely recorded ; and it is not often, even in the- biographies of distinguished men, that we hear of the share which their mothers have: had in the formation of their character, and. in giving them a bias towards goodness.. Yet are they not on that account \\athout; their reward. The influence they have exer- cised, though unrecorded, lives after them, and goes on propagating itself in conse- quences forever. We do not often hear of great women, a? we do of great men. It is of good womerii that we mostly hear ; and it is probable that, by determining the character of men and women for good, they are doing even greater work than if they were to paint great pictures, write great books, or compose great operas. "It is quite true," says a well-known author, "that women have written no 'Iliad,' nor 'Hamlet,' nor 'Paradise Lost;' they have designed no Church of St. Peter's, composed no 'Messiah,' carved no 'Apollo Belvedere,' painted no 'Last Judgment;' they have invented neither algebra, nor telescopes, nor steam-engines; but they have done some- thing far greater and better than all this, for it is at their knees that upright and virtuous- JUST AS THE TWIG IS BENT THE TREE'S INCLINED." men and women have been trained — the most excellent productions in the world." Over the exhibit of one of the States at the World's Fair in Chicago these words were written : " Her finest productions are her sons and daughters." Men and women, noble and true — may the grand race of such never cease in this land of ours ! What made Washington Great. George Washington was only eleven years of age — the eldest of five children — when his ) father died, leaving his mother a widow. She was a woman of rare excellence — full of resources, a good woman of business, an excellent manager, and possessed of much strength of character. She had her children to educate and bring up, a large household to govern, and extensive estates to manage, all of which she accomplished with complete success. Her good sense, assiduity, tender- ness, industry, and vigilance, enabled her to overcome every obstacle ; and, as the richest reward of her solicitude and toil, she had the happiness to see all her children come for- ward with a fair promise into life, filling the spheres allotted to them in a manner equally honorable to themselves, and to the parent who had been the only guide of their prin- ciples, conduct and habits. The biographer of Cromwell says little about the Protector's father, but dwells upon the character of his mother, whom he de- scribes as a woman of rare vigor and decision of purpose : "A woman," he says, " possessed of the glorious faculty of self-help when other a- sistance failed her; ready for the demands of fortune in its extremest adverse turn; of spirit and energy equal to her mildness and patience; who, with the labor of her own hands, gave dowries to five daughters suffi- cient to marry them into families as hon- orable but more wealthy than their own ; whose single pride was honesty,, and whose passion was love; who preserved in the gorgeous palace at Whitehall the simple tastes that distinguished her in humble life ;, and whose only care, amidst all her splendor,, was for the safety of her son in his dangerous, eminence." We have spoken of the mother of Napo- leon Bonaparte as a woman of great force of character. Not less so was the mother of the Duke of Wellington, whom her son. strikingly resembled in features, person, and! character ; while his father was principally distinguished as a musical composer and performer. But, strange to say, Wellington's mother mistook him for a dunce; and for some reason or other, he was not such a favorite as her other children, until his great deeds in after-life constirainediliierto. be proud of him. A Model of Excellence. Henry Clay, the pride and honor of his; country, always expressedfeelings of profound! affection and veneration for his mother. A habitual correspondence and enduring affec- tion subsisted between them to the last hour of life. Mr. Clay ever spoke of her as a model of maternal character and female excellence, and it is said that he never met his constituents in Woodford county, after her death, without some allusion to her,, which deeply affected both him and his audi- ence. And nearly the last words uttered by this great statesman, when he came to die,, were, " Mother, mother, mother." It is natural for us to feel that she must have becM a good mother, that was loved and so d i fully served by such a boy, and that neither could have been wanting in rare virtues. Benjamin Franklin was accustomed tO' refer to his mother in the tenderest tone ofi filial affection. His respect and affection f c 28 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. her were manifested, among other ways, in frequent presents, that contributed to her comfort and solace in her advancing years. In one of his letters to her, for example, he sends her a moidore, a gold piece of the value of six dollars " towards chaise hire," said he, " that you may ride warm to meetings during the winter." In another he gives her an account of the growth and improvement of Ms son and daughter — topics which, as he well understood, are ever as dear to the grandmother as to the mother. A Beautiful Tribute. Thomas Gray, author of " Elegy in a Country Churchyard," was most assiduous in his attentions to his mother while she lived, and, after her death, he cherished her memory with sacred sorrow. Mr. Mason informs us that Gray seldom mentioned his mother without a sigh. The inscription ■which he placed over her remains, speaks of her as " the careful, tender mother of many children, one of whom alone had the mis- fortune to survive her." How touching is this brief tribute of grateful love ! Volumes of eulogy could not increase our admiration of the gentle being to whom it was paid — her patient devotion, her meek endurance. Wherever the name and genius of Gray are known, there shall also his mother's virtues be told for a memorial of her. He ■was buried, according to his directions, by the side of his mother, in the churchyard at Stoke. After his death her gowns and wear- ing apparel were' found in a trunk in his apartments, just as she had left them. It .seemed as if he could never form the resolu- tion to open it, in order to distribute them to his female relations, to whom, by his will, he bequeathed them. Amos Lawrence always spoke of his mother in the strongest terms of veneration and love, and in many letters to t Is' children and grandchildren, are found messages of affectionate regard for his mother, such as could have emai:'-Hted only from a heart over- flowing with filial gratitude. Her form, bending over his beo>. M silent prayer, at the hour of twilight, when cUe was about leaving him for the night, was ii**Jong the first and most cherished recollectio.^o cf his early years and his childhood's hor^'O- The Mother's Early Training. From his mother Sergeant S. Prentiss inherited those more gentle qualities that ever characterized his life — qualities that shed over his eloquence such bewitching sweetness, and gave to his social intercourse such ,an indescribable charm. A remarkably charac- teristic anecdote illustrates his filial affection. When on a visit, some years ago, to the North, but after his reputation had become wide-spread, a distinguished lady, of Portland, Me., took pains to obtain an introduction, by visiting the steamboat in which she learned he was to take his departure in a few moments. " I have wished to see you," said she to Mr. Prentiss, "for my heart has often con- gratulated the mother who has such a son." " Rather congratulate the son on having such a mother" was his instant and heartfelt reply. This is but one of the many instances in which the most distinguished men of all ages have been proud to refer to the early culture of intellect, the promptings of virtue, or the aspirations of piety, and to the influence of the mother's early training. General Marion was once a plodding young farmer, and in no way distinguished as superior to the young men of the neigh- borhood in which he lived, except for his devoted love and marked respect for his excellent mother, and exemplary honor and HOME IS A SHELTER FROM THE WINTRY BLAST. George Herbert. 29 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. truthfulness. In these qualities he was emi- nent from early childhood, and they marked ihis character through life. We may remark, an this connection, that it is usual to affect some degree of astonishment when we read of men whose keep the pot boiling, and geography enough to know the different rooms in her house,, was science enough for any woman ; while Byron, whose sympathies for woman were of a very imperfect kind, professed that he would limit her library to a Bible and a cook^ book. But this view of woman's character and culture is absurdly narrow and unin- telligent. Speaking generally, the training and disci- pline that are most suitable for the one sex in early life are also the most suitable for the other; and the education and culture that fill the mind of the man will prove equally whole- some for the woman. Indeed, all the argu- ments which have yet been advanced in favor of the higher education of men plead equally strongly in favor of the higher education of women. In all the departments of home. 'THE MOTHER IS THE CHILD'S PLAYMATE." 35, 36 THE INFLUE^XE OF HOME. intelligence will add to woman's usefulness and efficiency. It will give her thought and forethought, enable her to anticipate and provide for the contingencies of life, suggest improved methods of management, and gi\e her strength in every way. In disciplined mental power she will find a stronger and safer protection against decep- tion and imposture than in mere innocent and unsuspecting ignorance ; in moral and religious culture she will secure sources of influence mere powerful and enduring than in physical attractions ; and in due self-reli- ance and self-dependence she will discover the truest sources of domestic comfort and happiness. Xot froiii his head was woman took, As made her husband lo o'erlook ; Not from his feet, as one designed The footstool of the stroug.'r kind ; But fashioned for himself, a Lride, An equal, taken from his side : Her place intended to maintain, The mate and glory of the man, To rest in peace beneath his arm, j''rotected by her lord from harm, Ai^d never from his heart removed, One only less than God beloved. Charles Wesley. The Need of Good Mothers. Bit while the mind and character of womej. ought to be cultivated with a view to their o\.n well-being, they ought not the less to be educated liberally with a view to the happiness of others. Men themselves can- net be sound in mind or morals if women be the reverse ; and if, as we hold to be the case, th:: moral condition of a people mainly depends u[)on the education of the home, ihcn l!vj education of women is to be regarded as a matter of national importance. Not only does the moral character but the mental strength of man find its best safe- guard and support in the moral purity and mental cultivation of woman ; but the more completely the powers of both are devel- oped, the more harmonious and well-ordered will society be — the more safe and certain its elevation and advancement. When the first Napoleon said that the great want of France was mothers, he meant, in other words, that the French people needed the education of homes, presided over by good, virtuous, inteUigent women. Indeed, the first French Revolution presented one of the most striking illustrations of the social mischiefs resulting from a neglect of the puri- fying influence of women. When that great national outbreak occurred, society was rotten with vice and profligacy. Morals, religion, virtue, were swamped by sensualism. The character of woman had become depraved. Conjugal fidelity was disregarded ; maternity was held in reproach ; family and home were alike corrupted. Domestic purity no longer bound society together. France was mother- less ; the children broke loose ; and the Revolution burst forth, " amidst the yells and the fierce violence of women." The influence of woman is the same every- where. Her condition influences the morals, manners, and character of the people in all Cv^untries. Where she is debased, society is debased ; where she is morally pure and enhg.iitened, society will be proportionately elevated. A Subject Demanding Attention. Hence, t-» instruct woman is to instruct man ; to elevate her character is to rsise his own ; to enlarge her mental freedom is to extend and secure that of the whole commu- nity. For nations are but the outcomes of homes, and peoples of mothers. There is, however, one special department of woman's work demanding the earnest attention of all true female reformers, *hough "JUST AS THE TWIG IS BENT THE TREE'S INCLINED. 37 it is one which has hitherto been unaccount- ably neglected. We mean the better econom- izing and preparation of human food, the waste of Avhich at present, for want of the most ordinary culinary knowledge, is little short of scandalous. If that man is to be regarded as a benefactor of his species who makes two stalks of grain to grow where only one grew before, not less is she to be regarded as a public benefactor who economizes and turns to the best practical account the food- products of human skill and labor. A Fine Field for Reform. The improved use of even our existing supply would be equivalent to an immediate extension of the cultivable acreage of our country — not to speak of the increase in health, economy, and domestic comfort. Were our female reformers only to turn their energies in this direction with effect, they would earn the gratitude of all households, and be esteemed as among the greatest of all practical philanthropists. We cannot have the highest t>^pe of boys and girls in a home characterized by constant waste, nor, indeed, by bad cooking. Do not expect anything except a sour disposition from children fed on sour bread. Poor pastry and poor blood go together, and thin blood can never make a thick and well rounded character. Man is an animal, and must be suitably fed and nourished. It may seem singular to maintain that bad cooking and bad character go together, but it is a serious fact that the best Christians are they who have the best stomachs. To put dyspepsia into the flesh is to put petulance, sourness, despondency into the spirit. V/e not only want mothers who can say a prayer and teach a catechism ; we want mothers Avho can wash a baby and make a loaf of bread. Woman has often shown her immense capabilities. We cannot forget the courage of Lady Franklin, who persevered to the last, when the hopes of all others had died out, in prosecuting the search after the Franklin Expedition to the polar world. On the occasion of the Royal Geographical Society determining to award the " Founder's Medal" to Lady Franklin, Sir Roderick Murchison observed that, in the course of a long friendship with her, he had abundant opportunities of observing and testing the sterling qualities of a woman who had proved herself worthy of the admiration of mankind. " Nothing daunted by failure after failure, through twelve long years of hope deferred, she had persevered, with a singleness of pur- pose and a sincere devotion which were truly unparalleled. And now that her one last expedition of the steamer * Fox,' under the gallant M'Clintock, had realized the two great facts — that her husband had traversed wide seas unknown to former navigators, and died in discovering a northwest passage — then, surely, the adjudication of the medal would be hailed by the nation as one of the many recompenses to which the widow of the illustrious Franklin was so eminently entitled." Illustrious "Women. But that devotion to duty which marks the heroic character has more often been exhibited by women in deeds of charity and mercy. The greater part of these are never known, for they are done in private, out of the public sight, and for the mere love of doing good. Where fame has come to them, because of the success which has attended their labors in a more general sphere, it has come unsought and unexpected, and is often felt as a burden. Who has not heard of Mrs. Fry and Miss Carpenter as prison- visitors and reformers: of Mrs. Chisholm 38 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. and Miss Rye as promoters of emigration ; of Miss Nightingale, Miss Garrett and Miss Clara Barton, as apostles of hospital nursing; and Miss Frances Willard as a world- renowned advocate of temperance ? That these women should have emerged from the sphere of private and domestic life to become leaders in philanthropy, indicates no small degree of moral courage on their part ; for to women, above all others, quiet and ease and retirement are most natural and welcome. Very few women step beyond the boundaries of home in search of a larger field of usefulness. We have dwelt thus long and earnestly upon the mother's influence, for the reason that if children ever get the right start, she must be mainly instrumental in giving it. " The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rocks the world." THE CHILDREN. When the lessons and tasks are all ended. And the school for the day is dismissed, And the little ones gather around me, To bid me good-night and be kissed ; Oh, the little white arms that encircle My neck in a tender embrace ! Oh, the smiles that are lialos of heaven, Shedding sunshine of love on my face I And when they are gone I sit dreaming Of my childhood too lovely to last ; Of love that my heart will remember. When it wakes to the pulse of the past, Ere the world and its wickedness made me A partner of sorrow and sin ; When the glory of God was about me. And the glory of gladness within. Oh ! my heart grows weak as a woman's. And the fountain of feeling will flow. When I think of the paths steep and stony. Where the feet of the dear ones must go ; Of the mountains of sin hanging o'er them. Of the tempest of fate blowing wild ! Oh ! there is nothing on earth half so holy As the innocent heart of a child. They are idols of hearts and of households-. They are angels of God in disguise ; His sunlight still sleeps in their tresses, His glory still gleams in their eyes ; Oh ! these truants from home and from heaven, They have made me more manly and mild, And I know how Jesus could liken The kingdom of God to a child. I ask not a life for the dear ones, All radiant, as others have done. But that life may have enough shadow To temper the glare of the sun ; I would pray God to guard them from evil, But my prayer would come back to myself; Ah, a seraph may pray for a sinner, But a sinner must pray for himself. The twig is so easily bended, I have banished the rule and the rod ; I have taught them the goodness of knowledge. They have taught me the goodness of God; My heart is a dungeon of darkness. Where I shut them for breaking a rule ; My frown is sufficient correction ; My love is the law of the school. I shall leave the old house in the autumn, To traverse its threshold no more ; Ah, how I shall sigh for the dear ones, That meet me each morn at the door, I shall miss the " good-nights" and the kisses, And the gush of their innocent glee. The group on the green, and the flowers That are brought every morning to me. I shall miss them at morn and evening, Their song in the school and the street; I shall miss the low hum of their voices, And the tramp of their delicate feet. When the lessons and tasks are all ended, And death says : " The school is dismissed,' May the little ones gather around me, To bid me good-night and be kissed. Charles Dickerson. CHAPTTER II. THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE. ^ HE mocking bird is one of the wonders of the forest. While he sings with a whole choir of birds, the ear can listen only to the mocker, and when he is in full song, a bystander might suppose that he hears all other birds in one. In his domesticated state, this bird whistles for the dog, and the ■dog starts up and hurries away to meet his master. The mocker screams like a hurt chicken, and the hen flutters her drooping wing and bristling feathers, eager to defend her brood. The barking of the dog, the mewing of the cat, the tune taught by his master, the quivering notes of the canary, all are repeated by the mocker ; and so perfect is his power of imitation, that other birds are said to become mute beside their rival, as if their powers were superseded by his. Now, a similar principle of imitation operates in our homes : it is there that its most concentrated power appears. Affection and duty, precept and promise, with all that ■can sway a young immortal, induce or even bind a child to imitate a parent. A silent influence is thus constantly put forth, of ■which we may be as unconscious as we are of the beating of the heart, but which is not on that account less strong, and the character of a child is commonly just the accumulated result of this parental example. It is not more natural for some young animals to resort to the water, and for others to soar into the air, than for children to receive impressions through this channel. Such effects are photographed upon them, and form part of their very existence : they go with them to the grave, and pass with them into eternity, either to enhance their joy or deepen their sad regrets. Like the molten metal delivered into the mould, to come forth either an embodied symmetry or a distorted mass, the child thus receives the impress of the parent ; for so perfect is the pov/er of home, that it as really moulds or models us as the potter the clay upon his wheel. What Edmund Burke Says. Men, young and old — ^but the young more than the old — cannot help imitating those with whom they associate. It was a saying of George Herbert's mother, intended for the guidance of her sons, " that as our bodies take a nourishment suitable to the meat on which we feed, so do our souls as insensibly take in virtue or vice by the example or conversation of good or bad company." Indeed, it is impossible that association with those about us should not produce a powerful influence in the formation of character. For men are by nature imitators, and all persons are more or less impressed by the speech, the manners, the gait, the gestures, and the very habits of thinking of their companions. " Is example nothing ? " said Burke. "It is everything. Example is the school of mankind, and they will learn at no other." Emerson has observed that even old THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE. 40 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 41 couples, or persons who have been house- mates for a course of years, grow gradually- like each other ; so that, if they were to live long enough, we should scarcely be able to know them apart. But if this be true of the old, how much more true is it of the young, whose plastic natures are so much more soft and impressionable, and ready to take the stamp of the life and conversation of those about them ! "There has been," observed Sir Charles Bell in one of his letters, " a good deal said about education, but those who speak thus appear to me to put out of sight example, which is all-in-all. My best education was the example set me by my brothers. There was, in all the members of the family, a reliance on self, a true independence, and by imitation I obtained it." Influence of Example. Still shines the light of holy lives Like star-beams over doubt ; Each sainted memory, Christ-like, drives Some dark possession out. O friend ! O brother ! not in vain Thy life so calm and true, The silver dropping of the rain. The fall of summer dew ! With v^eary hand, yet steadfast will. In old age as in youth, Thy Master found thee sowing still The good seed of His truth. As on thy task-field closed the day In golden-skied decline. His angel met thee on the way, And lent his arm to thine. J. G. Whittier. It is in the nature of things that the cir- cumstances which contribute to form the character should exercise their principal influence during the period of growth. As years advance, example and imitation become custom, and gradually consolidate into habit, which is of so much potency that, almost before we know it, we have in a measure yielded up to it our personal fieedom. It is related of Plato that on one occasion he reproved a boy for playing at some fool- ish game. " Thou reprovest me," said the boy, " for a very little thing." " But cus- tom," replied Plato, " is not a little thing." Bad custom, consolidated into habit, is such a tyrant that men sometimes cling to vices even while they curse them. They have become the slaves of habits whose power they are impotent to resist. Hence Locke has said that to create and maintain that vigor of mind which is able to contest the empire of habit may be regarded as one of the chief ends of moral discipline. Selecting Good Company. Though much of the education of char- acter by example is spontaneous and uncon- scious, the young need not necessarily be the passive followers or imitators of those about them. Their own conduct, far more than the conduct of their companions, tends to fix the purpose and form the principles of their life. Each possesses in himself a power of will and of free activity, v.'hich, if courageously exercised, will enable him to make his own individual selection of friends and associates. It is only through weak- ness of purpose that young people, as well as old, become the slaves of their inclina- tions, or give themselves up to a servile imi- tation of others. It is a common saying that men are known by the company they keep. Tht sober do not naturally associate with the drunken, the refined with the coarse, the decent with the dissolute. To associate with depraved persons argues a low taste and vicious tendencies, and to frequent their 42 THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE. society leads to inevitable degradation of •character. " The conversation of such per- sons," says Seneca, " is very injurious ; for even if it does no immediate harm, it leaves its seeds in the mind, and follows us when we have gone from the speakers — a plague sure to spring up in future resurrection." If young men are wisely influenced and ■directed, and conscientiously exert their own free energies, they will seek the society ■of those better than themselves, and strive to imitate their example. In companionship with the good, growing natures will always find their best nourishment ; while compan- ionship with the bad will only be fruitful in mischief. There are persons whom to know is to love, honor and admire ; and others whom to know is to shun and despise. Live with persons of elevated characters, and you will feel lifted and benefited by them : "Live Avith wolves," says the Spanish proverb, "and you will learn to howl." A Fatal Mistake. Intercourse with even commonplace, sel- fish persons, may prove most injurious, by inducing a dry, dull, reserved and selfish •condition of mind, more or less inimical to true manliness and breadth of character. The mind soon learns to run in small grooves, the heart grows narrow and con- tracted, and the moral nature becomes weak, irresolute and accommodating, which is fatal to all generous ambition or real excellence. On the other hand, association with per- sons wiser, better and more experienced than ourselves is always more or less inspir- ing and invigorating. They enhance our 'own knowledge of life. We correct our -estimates by theirs, and become partners in their wisdom. We enlarge our field of ob- servation through their eyes, profit by their experience, and learn not only from what they have enjoyed, but — which is still more instructive — from what they have suffered. If they are stronger than ourselves, we become participators in their strength. And we should not forget that commonly the strongest natures are those that have suf- fered most. An old fable tells of a farmer who went out to plow in his fields. The plow ripped the roots of grasses and weeds, and they were terrified and pained at the work of destruction. " If I do not rend you in pieces," said the farmer, " you cannot nour- ish the seed soon to be sown, nor help grow a harvest of golden grain." The Fruits of Trial. Oh let me suffer, till I kno-w The good that cometh from the pain, Like seeds beneath the -wintry snow, That -wake in flo-wers and golden grain. Oh let me sufifer, till I find What plants of sorro-w can impart. Some gift, some triumph of the mind. Some flower, some fruitage of the heart. The hour of anguish passes by ; But in the spirit there remains The outgrowth of its agony. The compensation of its pains. In meekness, which suspects no wrong. In patience, -which endures control. In faith, which makes the spirit strong, In peace and purity of soul. Thomas C. Upham. What Suffering Does. Suffering curbs our inward passions, Child-like tempers in us fashions. And our will to God's subdues : Thus His hand, so soft and healing. Each disordered power and feeling, By a blessed change renews. Suffering keeps the thoughts compacted. That the soul be not distracted By the world's beguiling art ; 'Tis like some angelic -warder THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 43 Ever keeping sacred order In the chambers of the heart. Suffering tunes the heart's emotion To eternity's devotion, And awakes a fond desire For the land where psalms are ringing, And with psalms the martyrs singing Sweetly to the harper's choir. J. Hartmann. Not only do we learn patience and forti- tude from the example of those who know how to bear their misfortunes submissively and profit by them, but in other ways we are influenced by those around us. Henry Martyn's Friend. An entirely new direction may be given to the life of a young man by a happy sugges- tion, a timely hint, or the kindly advice of an honest friend. Thus the life of Henry Martyn, the Indian missionary, seems to have been singularly influenced by a friend- ship which he formed, when a boy, at Truro Grammar School. Martyn himself was of feeble frame, and of a delicate nervous tem- perament. Wanting in animal spirits, he took but little pleasure in school sports ; and being of a somewhat petulant temper, the bigger boys took pleasure in provoking him, and some of them in bullying him. One of the bigger boys, however, conceiving a friend- ship for Martyn, took him under his protec- tion, stood between him and his persecutors, and not only fought his battles for him, but helped him with his lessons. Though Martyn was rather a backward pupil, his father was desirous that he should have the advantage of a college education, and at the age of about fifteen he sent him to Oxford to try for a Corpus scholarship, in which he failed. He remained for two years more at the Truro Grammar School, and then went to Cambridge, where he was entered at St. John's College. Whom should he find already settled there as a student but his old champion of the Truro Grammar School? Their friendship was renewed ; and the elder student from that time forward acted as the mentor of the younger one. A Patient, Hard-working Fello-w. Martyn was fitful in his studies, excitable and petulant, and occasionally subject to fits of almost uncontrollable rage. His big friend, on the other hand, was a steady, patient, hard-working fellow ; and he never ceased to watch over, to guide, and to advise for good his irritable fellow-student. He kept Martyn out of the way of evil company, advised him to work hard, "not for the praise of men, but for the glory of God ; " and so successfully assisted him in his studies, that at the following Christmas examination he was the first of his year. Yet Martyn's kind friend and mentor never achieved any distinction himself; he passed away into obscurity, leading, most probably, a useful though an unknown career; his great- est wish in life having been to shape the character of his friend, to inspire his soul with the love of truth, and to prepare him for the noble work, on which he shortly after entered, of an Indian missionary. A somewhat similar incident is said to have occurred in the college career of Dr. Paley. When a student he was distinguished for his shrewdness as well as his clumsiness, and he was at the same time the favorite and the butt of his companions. Though his natural abilities were great, he was thought- less, idle, and a spendthrift ; and at the com- mencement of his third year he had made comparatively little progress. After one of his usual night-dissipations, a friend stood by his bedside on the following morning. " Paley," said he, " I have not TO THE DEAR ONES AT HOME, THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 45 been able to sleep for thinking about you. I have been thinking what a fool you are ! / have the means of dissipations, and can afford to be idle : you are poor, and cannot afford it. / could do nothing, probably, "ven were I to try : you are capable of doing nything. I have lain awake all night think- ing about your folly, and I have now come solemnly to warn you. Indeed, if you per- sist in your indolence, and go on in this way, I must renounce your society alto- gether." It 'Was the Making of Him. It is said that Paley was so powerfully affected by this admonition, that from that moment he became an altered man. He formed an entirely new plan of life, and dili- gently persevered in it. He became one of the most industrious of students. One by one he distanced his competitors, and at the end of the year he came out ahead. What he afterwards accomplished as an author and a divine is sufficiently well known. No one recognized more fully the influence of personal example on the young than did Dr. Arnold. It was the great lever with which he worked in striving to elevate the rharacter of his school. He made it his -principal object, first to put a right spirit into the leading boys by attracting their good and noble feelings ; and then to make them instru- mental in propagating the same spirit among the rest, by the influence of imitation, exam- ple, and admiration. He endeavored to make all feel that they were fellow-workers with himself, and sharers with him in the moral responsibility for the good government of the place. One of the first effects of this high-minded system of management was, that it inspired the boys with strength and self-respect. They felt that they were trusted. There were, of course, wild boys, as there are at all schools; and these it was the master's duty to watch, to prevent their bad example con- taminating others. On one occasion he said to an assistant-master ; " Do you see those two boys walking together? I never saw them together before. You should make an especial point of observing the company they keep : nothing so tells the changes in a boy's character." Young Men Could Follow Him. Dr. Arnold's own example was an inspir- ation, as is that of every great teacher. In his presence, young men learned to respect themselves, and out of the root of self- respect there grew up the manly virtues. " His very presence," says his biographer, " seemed to create a new spring of health and vigor within them, and to give to life an interest and elevation which remained with them long after they had left him ; and dwelt so habitually in their thoughts as a living image, that, when death had taken him away, the bond appeared to be still unbroken, and the sense of separation almost lost in the still deeper sense of a lite and a union inde- structible." And thus it was that Dr. Arnold trained a host of manly and noble characters, who spread the influence of his example in all parts of the world. So also was it said of Dugald Stewart, that he breathed the love of virtue into whole generations of pupils. "To me," says the late Lord Cockburn, " his lectures were like the opening of the heavens. I felt that I had a soul. His noble views, unfolded in glorious sentences, elevated me into a higher world. They changed my whole nature." Character tells in all conditions of life. The man of good character in a workshop will give the tone to his fellows, and elevate their entire aspirations! Thus Franklin, while 46 THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE. a workman in London, is said to have re- formed the manners of an entire workshop. So the man of bad character and debased energy will unconsciously lower and degrade his fellows. John Brown, whose " body lies mouldering in the ground," once said to Emerson, that " for a settler in a new coun- try, one good believing man is worth a hun- dred, nay, worth a thousand men without character." His example is so contagious, that all other men are directly and bene- ficially influenced by him, and he insensibly elevates and lifts them up to his own standard of energetic activity. Character is Everything. The scale Of being is a graduated thing ; And deeper than the vanities of power, Or the vain pomp of glory there is writ Gradation, in its hidden characters. The pathway to the grave may be the same, And the proud man shall tr -ad it, and the low, With his bowed head, shall \.ear him company. Decay will make no difference, and death, With his cold hand, shall make no difference ; And there will be no precedence of power, In waking at the coming trump of God ; But in the temper of the invisible mind, The godlike and undying intellect, There are distinctions that will live in heaven, When time is a forgotten circumstance ! The elevated brow of kings will lose The impress of regalia, and the slave Will wear his immortality as free, Beside the crystal waters ; but the depth Of glory in the attributes of God Will measure the capacities of mind ; And as the angels differ, will the ken Of gifted spirits glorify him more. It is life's mystery. The soul of man Createth its own destiny of power ; And, as the trial is intenser here, His being hath a nobler strength in heaven, N. P. Wittis. The Power of Goodness. Communication with the good is invariably productive of good. The good character is diffusive in its influence. " I was common clay till roses were planted in me," says some aromatic earth in the Eastern fable. Like begets like, and good makes good. " It is astonishing," says Canon Moseley, " how- much good goodness makes. Nothing that is good is alone, nor anything bad ; it makes others good or others bad — and that other, and so on : like a stone thrown into a pond, which makes circles that make other wider ones, and then others, till the last reaches the shore. Almost all the good that is in the world has, I suppose, thus come down to- us traditionally from remote times, and often unknown centres of good." So Mr. Ruskin says, " That which is born of evil begets evil; and that which is born of valor and honor teaches valor and honor." A Last Message. Great is the power of goodness to charm and to command. The man inspired by it is the true king of men, drawing all hearts after him. When General Nicholson lay wounded on his death-bed before Delhi, he dictated this last message to his equally noble and gallant friend. Sir Herbert Ed- wardes : " Tell him," said he, " I should have been a better man if I had continued to live with him, and our heavy pubHc duties had not prevented my seeing more of him privately. I was always the better for a residence with him and his wife, however short. Give my love to them both ! " There are men in whose presence we feel as if we breathed a spiritual ozone, refresh- ing and invigorating, like inhaling mountain air, or enjoying a bath of sunshine. The very sight of a great and good man is often an inspiration to the young, who cannot help admiring and loving the gentle, the brave, the truthful, the magnanimous { Chateaubriand saw Washington only once, but it inspired him for life. After describing THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 47 the interview, he says : " Washington sank into the tomb before any little celebrity had attached to my name. I passed before him as the most unknown of beings. He was in all his glory — I in the depth of my obscur- ity. My name probably dwelt not a whole day in his memory. Happy, however, was I that his looks were cast upon me. I have felt warmed for it all the rest of my life. There is a virtue even in the looks of a great man." " It does one good to look upon his manly, honest face," said a poor German woman, pointing to a portrait of the great Reformer hung upon the wall of her humble dwelHng. Admiration of the Good. Even the portrait of a noble or a good man, hung up in a room, is companionship after a sort. It gives us a closer personal interest in him. Looking at the features, we feel as if we knew him better, and were more nearly related to him. It is a link that con- nects us with a higher and better nature than our own. And though we may be far from reaching the standard of our hero, we are, to a certain extent, sustained and fortified by his depicted presence constantly before us. Fox was proud to acknowledge how much he owed to the example and conversa- tion of Burke. On one occasion he said of him that " if he was to put all the political information he had gained from books, all that he had learned from science, or that the knowledge of the world and its affairs taught him, into one scale, and the improvement he had derived from Mr. Burke's conversation and instruction into the other, the latter would preponderate." Professor Tyndall speaks of Faraday's friendship as " energy and inspiration." After spending an evening with him, he wrote : " His work excites admiration, but contact with him warms and elevates the heart. Here, surely, is a strong man. I love strength, but let me not forget the ex- ample of its union with modesty, tender- ness and sweetness in the character of Far- aday." Wordsworth's Sister. Even the gentlest natures are powerful to. influence the character of others for good.. Thus Wordsworth seems to have been espe- cially impressed by the character of his sis- ter Dorothy, who exercised upon his mind, and heart a lasting influence. He describes, her as the blessing of his boyhood as well as of his manhood. Though two years, younger than himself, her tenderness and sweetness contributed greatly to mould his nature and open his mind to the influences- of poetry : ' ' She gave me eyes, she gave me ears, And humble cares, and delicate fears ; A heart, the fountain of sweet tears. And love, and thought, and joy." Thus the gentlest natures are enabled, by the power of affection and intelligence, to mould the characters of men destined to influence and elevate their race through all time. Sir William Napier attributed the early- direction of his character first to the impress made upon it by his mother, when a boy, and afterwards to the noble example of his commander. Sir John Moore, when a man. Moore early detected the qualities of the young officer ; and he was one of those to whom the general addressed the encourage- ment, " Well done, my majors ! " at Corunna. Writing home to his mother, and describing the little court by which Moore was sur- rounded, he wrote " Where shall we find such a king? " The career of the late Dr. Marshall HalL h^ E;n+ice+l\ee THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 49 was a life-long illustration of the influence of character in forming character. Many emi- nent men still hving trace their success in life to his suggestions and assistance, without which several valuable lines of study and investigation might not have been entered on, at least at so early a period. 'He would say to young men about him, " Take up a sub- ject and pursue it well, and you cannot fail to succeed." And often he would throw out a new idea to a young friend, saying, " I make you a present of it; there is fortune in it, if you pursue it with energy." Energy Makes Others Energetic. Energy of character has always a power to evoke energy in others. It acts through sympathy, one of the most influential of human agencies. The zealous, energetic man unconsciously carries others along with him. His example is contagious, and com- pels imitation. He exercises a sort of electric power, which sends a thrill through every fibre, flows into the nature of those about him, and makes them give out sparks of fire. Dr. Arnold's biographer, speaking of the power of this kind exercised by him over young men, says : " It was not so much an enthusiastic admiration for true genius, or learning, or eloquence, which stirred within them ; it was a sympathetic thrill, caught from a spirit that was earnestly at work in the world — whose work was healthy, sus- tained, and constantly carried forward in the fear of God — a work that was founded on a deep sense of its duty and its value." Such a power, exercised by men of genius, evokes courage, enthusiasm, and devotion. It is this intense admiration for individuals — .such as one cannot conceive entertained for a multitude — which has in all times produced heroes and m_artyrs. It is thus that the mastery of character makes itself felt. It acts by inspiration, quickening and vivifying the natures subject to its influence. Influenced by Dante. Great minds are rich in radiating force, not only exerting power, but communicating and even creating it. Thus Dante raised and drew after him a host of great spirits — Petrarch, Boccacio, Tasso, and many more; From 'him Milton learnt to bear the stings of evil tongues and the contumely of evil days ; and long years after, Byron, thinking of Dante under the pine-trees of Ravenna, was incited to attune his harp to loftier strains than he - had ever attempted before. Dante inspired the greatest painters of Italy — Michael Angelo, and Raphael. So Ariosto and Titian mutually inspired one another, and lighted up each other's glory. Great and good men draw others after them, exciting the spontaneous admiration of mankind. This admiration of noble char- acter elevates the mind, and tends to redeem it from the bondage of self, one of the great- est stumbling-blocks to moral improvement. The recollection of men who have signalized themselves by great thoughts or great deeds seems to create for the time a purer atmos- phere around us : and we feel as if our aims and purposes were unconsciously elevated. " Tell me whom you admire," said Sainte- Beuve, '"and I will tell you what you are, at least as regards your talents, tastes, and character." Do you admire mean men? — your own nature is mean. Do you admire rich men? — you are of the earth, earthy. Do you admire men of fashion? — you are an ape. Do you admire honest, brave, and manly men ? — you are yourself of an honest, brave, and manly spirit. It is in the season of youth, while the 50 THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE. character is forming, that the impulse to admire is the greatest. There are, unhappily for themselves, persons so constituted that they have not the heart to be generous. The most dis- agreeable of all people are those who " sit in the seat of the scorner." Persons of this sort often come to regard the success of others, even in a good work, as a kind of personal offense. They cannot bear to hear another praised, especially if he belong to their own art, or calling, or profession. They will pardon a man's failures, but cannot forgive his doing a thing better than they can do. And where they have themselves failed, they are found to be the most merciless of detractors. The sour critic thinks of his rival : "When Heaven with such parts has blest him, Have I not reason to detest him?" The Habit of Fault-Finding, The mean mind occupies itself with sneer- ing, carping, and fault-finding, and is ready to scoff at everything but impudent effrontery or successful vice. The greatest consolation of such persons are the defects of men of character. " If the wise erred not," says George Herbert, " it would go hard with fools." Yet, though wise men may learn of fools by avoiding their errors, fools rarely profit by the example which wise men set them. A German writer has said that it is a miserable temper that cares only to discover the blemishes in the character of great men or great periods. Let us rather judge them with the charity of Bolingbroke, who, when reminded of one of the alleged weaknesses of Marlborough,, observed, " He was so great a man that I forgot he had that defect." Admiration of great men, living or dead. naturally evokes imitation of them in a greater or less degree. While a mere youth, the mind of Themistocles was fired by the great deeds of his contemporaries, and he longed to distinguish himself in the service of his country. When the battle of Mara- thon had been fought, he fell into a state of melancholy ; and when asked by his friends as to the cause, he replied "that the trophies of Miltiades would not suffer him to sleep." A few years later, we find him at the head of the Athenian army, defeating the Persian fleet of Xerxes in the battles of Artemisium and Salamis — his country gratefully acknowl- edging that it had been saved through his wisdom and valor. A Boy's Deep Impression. It is related of Thucydides that, when a boy, he burst into tears on hearing Herodotus read his history, and the impression made upon his mind was such as to determine the bent of his own genius. And Demosthenes was so fired on one occasion by the elo- quence of Callestratus, that the ambition was roused within him of becoming an orator himself Yet Demosthenes was physically weak, had a feeble voice, indistinct articula- tion, and shortness of breath — defects which he was only enabled to overcome by diligent study and invincible determination. But with all his practice, he never became a ready speaker ; all his orations, especially the most famous of them, exhibiting indications of careful elaboration — the art and industry of the orator being visible in almost every sen- tence. Similar illustrations of character imitating character, and moulding itself by the style and manner and genius of great men, are to be found pervading all history. Warriors, statesmen, orators, patriots, poets, and artists — all have been, more or less unconsciously, THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 51 nurtured by the lives and actions of others hving before them or presented for their imitation. The Great Musicians. Though Haydn once archly observed that he was loved and esteemed by everybody except professors of music, yet all the greatest musicians were unusually ready to recognize each other's greatness. Haydn himself seems to have been entirely free from petty jealousy. His admiration of the famous Porpora was such that he resolved to gain admission to his house and serve him as a valet. Having made the acquaintance of the family with whom Porpora lived, he was allowed to officiate in that capacity. Early each morn- ing he took care to brush the veteran's coat, polish his shoes, and put his rusty wig in order. At first Porpora growled at the intruder, but his asperity soon softened, and eventually melted into affection. He quickly discovered his valet's genius, and, by his in- structions, directed it into the line in which Haydn eventually acquired so much dis- tinction. When Correggio first gazed on Raphael's "Saint Cecilia," he felt within himself an awakened power, and exclaimed, " And I, too, am a painter ! " So Constable used to look back on his first sight of Claude's pict- ure of " Hagar " as forming an epoch in his career. Sir George Beaumont's admiration of the same picture was such that he always took it with him in his carriage when he travelled from home. It is the great lesson of biography to teach what man can be and can do at his best. It may thus give each man renewed strength and confidence. The humblest, in sight of even the greatest, may admire, and hope, and take courage. These great brothers of ours in blood and lineage, who live a universal life,- still speak to us from their graves, and beckon us on in the paths which they have trod. Their example is still with us, to guide, to influence and to direct us. For nobility of character is a perpetual bequest, living from age to age, and constantly tending to reproduce its like. Be Up and Doing, Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Ivife is but an empty dream I For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal ; Dust thou art, to dust returnest. Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way ; But to act that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brav^ Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle I Be a hero in the strife ! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead I Act — act in the li\'ing Present ! Heart within, and God o'erhead ! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time ;— Footprints, that perhaps another. Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate ; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.. 52 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. sa Thus example is one of the most potent of instructors, though it teaches without a tongue. It is the practical school of man- kind, working by action, which is always more forcible than words. Precept may point to us the way, but it is silent, continu- ous example, conveyed to us by habits, and living with us in fact, that carries us along. Good advice has its weight : but without the accompaniment of a good example it is of comparatively small influence ; and it will be found that the common saying of " Do as I say, not as I do," is usually reversed in the actual experience of life. We Learn Through the Eye. All persons are more or less apt to learn through the eye rather than the ear ; and whatever is seen, in fact, makes a far deeper impression than anything that is merely read or heard. This is especially the case in early youth, when the eye is the chief inlet of knowledge. Whatever children see they unconsciously imitate. They insensibly come to resemble those who are about them — as insects take the color of the leaves they feed on. Hence the vast importance of domestic training. For whatever may be the efficiency of schools, the examples set in our homes must always be of vastly greater influence in forming the characters of our future men and women. The home is the crystal of society — the nucleus of national character; and from that source, be it pure or tainted, issue the habits, principles and maxims which govern public as well as private life. The nation comes from the nursery. Public opinion itself is for the most part the outgrowth of the home ; and the best philanthropy comes from the fire- side. Example in conduct, therefore, even in apparently trivial matters, is of no light moment, inasmuch as it is constantly becom- ing inwoven with the lives of others, and contributing to form their natures for better or for worse. The characters of parents are thus constantly repeated in their children ; and the acts of affection, discipline, industry and self-control, which they daily exemplify, live and act when all else which may 'have bfeen learned through the ear 'has long been forgotten. Hence a wise man was accus- tomed to speak of his children as his "future state." How West Became a Painter. Even the mute action and unconscious look of a parent may give a stamp to the character which is never effaced; arid who can tell how much evil acts have been stayed by the thought of some good parent, whose memory their children may not sully by the commission of an unworthy deed, or the indulgence of an impure thought? The veriest trifles thus become of importance in influencmg the characters of men. "A kiss from my mother," said West, "made me a. painter." It is on the direction of such seeming trifles when children that the future happiness and success of men mainly depend. Fowell Buxton, when occupying an emi- nent and influential station in life, wrote to his mother, " I constantly feel, especially in action and exertion for others, the effects of principles early implanted by you in my mind." Buxton was also accustomed to remember with gratitude the obligations which he owed to an illiterate man, a game- keeper, named Abraham Plastow, with whom he played, and rode, and sported — a man who could neither read nor write, but was full of natural good sense and mother-wit. "What made him particularly valuable," says Buxton, " were his principles of integrity and honor. He never said or did a thing ia 54 THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE. the absence of my mother of which she would iiave disapproved. He always held up the highest standard of integrity, and filled our youthful minds with sentiments as pure and as generous as could be found in the writings of Seneca or Cicero. Such was my first instructor, and, I must add, my best." There is something solemn and awful in the thought that there is not an act done or a. word uttered by a human being but carries "with it a train of consequences, the end of which we may never trace. Not one but, to a certain extent, gives a color to our life, and insensibly influences the lives of those about us. The good deed or word will live, even though we may not see it fructify, but so will the bad ; and no person is so insignificant as to be sure that his example will not do good on the one hand, or evil on the other. The spirits of men do not die; they still live and walk abroad among us. W^e Do not Stand Alone. There is, indeed, an essence of immortality in the life of man, even in this world. No individual in the universe stands alone ; he is a component part of a . system of mutual ■dependencies ; and by his several acts he either increases or diminishes the sum of human good now and forever. As the pres- ent is rooted in the past, and the lives and examples of our forefathers still to a great extent influence us, so are we by our daily acts contributing to form the condition and character of the future. Man is a fruit formed and ripened by the culture of all the foregoing centuries; and the living generation continues the magnetic current of action and example destined to bind the remotest past with the most distant future. No man's acts die utterly; and though his body may resolve into dust and air, his good or his bad deeds will still be bringing forth fruit after their kind, and influencing future generations for all time to come. It is in this momentous and solemn fact that the great peril and responsibility of human existence lies. Every act we do or word we utter, as well as every act we witness or word we hear, carries with it an influence which extends over, and gives a color, not only to the whole of our future life, but makes itself felt upon the whole frame of society. We may not, and indeed cannot, possibly, trace the influence working itself into action in its various ramifications, among our children, our friends, or associates ; yet there it is assuredly, working on forever. And herein lies the great significance of setting forth a good example — a silent teaching which even the poorest and least significant person can practise in his daily life. There is no one so humble, but that he owes to others this simple but priceless instruction. It Depends on the Man. Even the meanest condition may thus be made useful ; for the light set in a low place shines as faithfully as that set upon a hill. Everywhere, and under almost all circum- stances, however externally adverse on our wild frontiers, in cottage hamlets, in the close alleys of great towns — the true man may grow. He who tills a space of earth scarce bigger than is needed for his grave, may work as faithfully, and to as good purpose, as the heir to thousands. The most common workshop may thus be a school of industry, science and good morals, on the one hand; or of idleness, folly and depravity, on the other. It all depends on the individual men, and the use they make of the opportunities for good which offer themselves. A life well spent, a character uprightly sustained, is no slight legacy to leave to one's THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 55 children, and to the world; for it is the most eloquent lesson of virtue and the severest reproof of vice, while it continues an endur- ing source of the best kind of riches. Well for those who can say, as Pope did, in rejoinder to the sarcasm of Lord Hervey, " I think it enough that my parents, such as they were, .never cost me a blush, and that their son, such as he is, never cost them a tear." Mere Talk Is Useless. It is not enough to tell others what they are to do, but to exhibit the actual example of doing. What Mrs, Chisholm described to a lady friend as the secret of her success, applies to all life. "I found," she said, "that if we want anything done, we must go to work and do it; it is of no use merely to talk — none whatever." It is poor eloquence that only shows how a person can talk. Had Mrs. Chisholm rested satisfied with lecturing, her project, she was persuaded, would never have got beyond the region of talk; but when people saw what she was doing and had actually accomplished, they fell in with her views and came forward to help her. Hence the most beneficient worker is not he who says the most eloquent things, or even who thinks the most loftily, but he who does the most eloquent acts. True-hearted persons, even in the hum- blest station in life, who are energetic doers, may thus give an impulse to good works out of all proportions, apparently, to their actual station in society. Thomas Wright might have talked about the reclamation of crimi- nals, and John Pounds about the necessity tor Mission Schools, and yet done nothing; instead of which they simply set to work without any other idea in their minds than that of doing, not talking. And how the example of even t^e poorest man may tell upon society, hear what Dr. Guthrie, the apostle of the Mission School movement, says of the influence which the example of John Pounds, the humble Ports- mouth cobbler, exercised upon his own work- ing career: " The interest I have been led to take in this cause is an example of how, in Provi- dence, a man's destiny — his course of life, like that of a river — may be determined and affected by very trivial circumstances. It is rather curious — at least it is interesting to me to remember — that it was by a picture I was first led to take an interest in mission schools — ^by a picture in an old, obscure, decaying burgh that stands on the shores of the Frith of Forth, the birthplace of Thomas Chalmers. I went to see this place many years ago, and, going into an inn for refresh- ment, I found the room covered with pictures of shepherdesses with their crooks, and sailors in holiday attire, not particularly interesting. But above the chimney-piece there was a large print, more respectable than its neigh- bors, which represented a cobbler's room. The cobbler was there himself, spectacles on nose, an old shoe between his knees — the massive forehead and firm mouth indicating great determination of character, and, beneath his bushy eyebrows, benevolence gleamed out on a number of poor ragged boys and girls who stood at their lessons round the busy cobbler. John Pounds, the Cobbler. " My curiosity was awakened ; and in the inscription I read how this man, John Pounds, a cobbler in Portsmouth, taking pity on the multitude of poor ragged children left by ministers and magistrates, and ladies and gentlemen, to go to ruin on the streets — how^ like a good shepherd, he gathered in these wretched outcasts — how he had trained them ^M^^mmfnmmmmmnmi JOHN POUNDS IN HIS WORKSHOP. 5G THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 57 to God and to the world — and how, while earning his daily bread by the sweat of his brow, he had rescued from misery and saved to society not less than five hundred of these children. I felt ashamed of myself I felt reproved for the little I had done. My feel- ings were touched. I was astonished at this man's achievements ; and I well remember, in the enthusiasm of the moment, saying to my companion (and I have seen in my cooler and calmer moments no reason for unsaying the saying) — 'That man is an honor to humanity, and deserves the tallest monu- ment ever raised within the shores of Britain.' " I took up that man's history, and I found it animated by the spirit of Him who ' had compassion on the multitude.' John Pounds Avas a clever man besides, and, like Paul, if he could not win a poor boy any other way, he won him by art. He would be seen chasing a ragged boy along the quays, and compelling him to come to school, not by the power of a policeman, but by the power of a hot potato. Honor in Due Time. " He knew the love an Irishman had for a potato ; and John Pounds might be seen running holding under the boy's nose a potato, like an Irishman, very hot, and with a coat as ragged as himself. When the day comes when honor will be done to whom honor is due, I can fancy the crowd of those whose fame poets have sung, and to whose memory monuments have been raised, divid- ing like the wave, and, passing the great, and the noble, and the mighty of the land, this poor, obscure old man stepping forward and receiving the especial notice of Him who said : ' Inasmuch as ye did it to one of the least of these, ye did it also to Me.'" The education of character is very much a question of models; we mold ourselves so unconsciously after the characters, manners, habits and opinions of those who are about us. Good rules may do much, but good models far more; for in the latter we have instruction in action — wisdom at work. Good admonition and bad example only build with one hand to pull down with the other. Hence the vast importance of exer- cising great care in the selection of com- panions, especially in youth. There is a magnetic affinity in young persons which insensibly tends to assimilate them to each other's likeness. Contact with the good never fails to im- part good, and, we carry away with us some of the blessing, as travelers' garments retain the odor of the flowers and shrubs through which they have passed. The Force of Valiant Deeds. The example of the brave is an inspiration to the timid, their presence thrilling through every fiber. Hence the miracles of valor often performed by ordinary men under the leadership of the heroic. The very recollec- tion of the deeds of the valiant stirs men's blood like the sound of the trumpet. Ziskg bequeathed his skin to be used as a drunv to inspire the valor of the Bohemians. When Scanderbeg, prince of Epirus, was dead, the Turks wi-shed to possess his bones, that each might wear a piece next his heart, hoping thus to secure some portion of the courage he had displayed while living, and which they had so often experienced in battle. When the gallant Douglas, bearing the heart of Bruce to the Holy Land, saw one of his knights surrounded and sorely pressed by the Saracens, he took from his neck the silver case containing the hero's bequest, and throwing it among the thickest press of his foes, cried, " Pass first in fight, as thou wert wont to do, and Douglas will follow thee, or 58 THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE. die;" and so saying, he rushed forward to the place where it fell, and was there slain. " I shall not ask you to go where I am not willing to lead," said one of our generals in the war. It is needless to say his men were ready to follow. The Record of a Noble Life, The chief use of biography consists in the noble models of character in which it abounds. Our great forefathers still live among us in the records of their lives, as well as in the acts they have done, which live also ; still sit by us at table, and hold us by the hand ; furnishing examples for our benefit, which we may still study, admire and imitate. Indeed, whoever has left behind him the record of a noble life, has bequeathed to posterity an enduring source of good, for it serves as a model for others to form them- selves by in all time to come; still breathing fresh life into men, helping them to repro- duce his life anew, and to illustrate his character in other forms. Hence a book containing the life of a true man is full of precious seed. It is a still hving voice: it is an intellect. To use Milton's words, " It is the precious life-blood of a master-spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life." Such a book never ceases to exercise an elevating and ennobling in- fluence. But, above all, there is the Book contain- ing the very highest Examples set before us to shape our lives by in this world — the most suitable for all the necessities of our mind and heart — an example which we can only follow afar off and feel after, " Like plants or vines which never saw the sun, But dream of him and guess where he may be, And do their best to climb and get to him." Franklin was accustomed to attribute his usefulness and eminence to his having early read Cotton Mather's " Essays to do Good " — a book which grew out of Mather's own life. And see how good example draws other men after it, and propagates itself through future generations in all lands. For Samuel Drew avers that he framed his own life, and especially his business habits, after the model left on record by Benjamin Franklin. Thus it is impossible to say where a good example may not reach, or where it will end, if indeed it have an end. The Best Kind of Work. One of the most valuable and one of the most infectious examples which can be set before the young, is that of cheerful working. Cheerfulness gives elasticity to the spirit. Spectres fly before it; difficulties cause no despair, for they are encountered with hope, and the mind acquires that happy disposition to improve opportunities which rarely fails of success. The fervent spirit is always a healthy and happy spirit ; working cheerfully itself and stimulating others to work. It confers a dignity on even the most ordinary occupations. The most effective work, also, is usually the full-hearted work — that which passes through the hands or the head of him whose heart is glad. Hume was accustomed to say that he would rather possess a cheerful disposition — inclined always to look at the bright side of things — than with a gloomy mind to be the master of an estate of fifty thousand dollars a year. Granville Sharp, amid his indefati- gable labors on behalf of the slave, solaced himself in the evenings by taking part in glees and instrumental concerts at his brother's house, singing, or playing on the flute, the clarionet, or the oboe; and, at the Sunday evening oratorios, when Handel was played, by beating the kettle- THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 59 A^ant of Energy. Robert NicoU wrote to a friend, after read- ing the "Recollections of Coleridge," "What a mighty intellect was lost in that man for want of a little energy — a little determina- tion ! " NicoU himself was a true and brave spirit, who died young, but not before he had encountered and overcome great difficulties in life. At his outset, while carrying on a small business as a bookseller, he found him- self weighed down with a debt of only a hundred dollars, which he said he fek "weighing like a millstone round his neck.'' and that " if he had it paid he never would borrow again from mortal man." THE ROYAL ROAD TO SUCCESS. 93 Writing to his mother at the time, he said : "Fear not for me, dear mother, for I feel myself growing firmer and more hopeful in spirit. The more I think and reflect — and thinking, not reading, is- now my occupation -I feel that, whether I be growing richer or >ot, I am growing a wiser man, which is far better. Pain, poverty, and all the other wild beasts of life which so affrighten others, I am so bold as to think I could look in the face without shrinking, without losing respect for myself, faith in man's high destinies, or trust in God. There is a point which it costs much mental toil and struggling to gain, but which, when once gained, a man can look down from, as a traveler from a lofty mount- ain, on storms raging below, while he is walking in sunshine. That I have yet gained this point in life I will not say. but I feel myself daily nearer to it." Difficulties the Making 3f t^en. It is not ease, but effort — not fadlity, but difficulty, that makes men. There is, per- haps, no station in life, in which difficulties have not to be encountered and overcome before any decided measure of success can be achieved. Those difficulties are, however, our best instructors, as our mistakes often form our best experience. Charles James Fox was accustomed to say that he hoped more for a man who failed, and yet went on in spite of his failure, than from the buoyant 'career of the successful. "It is all very well," said he, "to tell me that a young m.an has distinguished himself by a brilliant first speech. He may go on, or he may be satisfied with his first triumph ; but show me a young man who has not suc- ceeded at first, and nevertheless has gone on, and I will back that young man to do better than most of those who have succeeded at the first trial." We learn wisdom from failure much more than from success. We often discover what zvill do, by finding out what will not do ; and probably he who never made a mistake never made a discovery. It was the failure in the attempt to make a sucking-pump act, when the working-bucket was more than thirty- three feet above the surfaceof the watertobe raised, that led observant men to study the law of atmospheric pressure, and opened a new field of research to the genius of Galileo, Torrecelli and Boyle. John Hunter used to remark that the art of surgery would not advance until professional men had the cour- age to publish their failures as well as their successes. Watt, the engineer, said of all things most wanted in mechanical engineering was a history of failures : " We want," he said, " a book of blots." Success from Failure. When Sir Humphry Davy was once shown a dexterously manipulated experiment, he said: "I thank God I was not made a dex- terous manipulator, for the most important of my discoveries have been suggested to me by failures." Another distinguished investi- gator in physical science has left it on record that, whenever in the course of his researches he encountered an apparently insuperable obstacle, he generally found himself on the brink of some discovery. The very greatest things — great thoughts, great discoveries, in\-entions — have usually been nurtured in hardship, often pondered over in sorrow, and at length established with difficulty. Beethoven said of Rossini, that he had in him the stuff to have made a good musician if he had only, when a boy, been well flogged ; but that he had been spoiled by the facility with which he composed. Men who feel their strength within them need not fear to encounter adverse opinions ; they have far 94 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. greater reason to fear undue praise and too friendly criticism. When Mendelssohn was about to enter the orchestra at Birmingham, on the first performance of his "Elijah," he said, laughingly, to one of his friends and critics, " Stick your claws into me ! Don't tell me what you like, but what you don't Hke ! " The Best Training. It has been said, and truly, that it is the defeat that tries the general more than the victory. Washington lost more battles than he gained ; but he succeeded in the end- The Romans, in their most victorious cam- paigns, almost invariably began with defeats. Moreau used to be compared by his com- panions to a drum, which nobody hears of except it be beaten. Wellington's military genius was perfected by encounter with diffi- culties of apparently the most overwhelming character, but which only served to move his resolution, and bring out more prominently his great qualities as a man and a general. So the skilful mariner obtains his best experi- ence amid storms and tempests, which train him to self-reliance, courage, and the highest discipline ; and we probably owe to rough seas and wintry nights the best training of our race of seamen, who are certainly not surpassed by any in the world. Necessity may be a hard school-mistress, but she is generally found the best. Though the ordeal of adversity is one from which we naturally shrink, yet, when it comes, we must bravely and manfully encounter it. Bums says truly : "Though losses and crosses Be lessons right severe, There's wit there, you'll get there. You'll find no other where." "Sweet indeed are the uses of adversity." They reveal to us our powers, and call forth our energies. If there be real worth in the character, like sweet herbs, it will give forth. its finest fragrance when pressed. " Crosses," says the old proverb, " are the ladders that lead to heaven." "What is even poverty itself," asks Richter, " that a man should murmur under it ? It is but as the pain o! piercing a maiden's ear, and you hang prec- ious jewels in the wound." Prosperity not always Beneficial. In the experience of life it is found that the wholesome discipline of adversity in strong natures usually carries with it a self-preserv- ing influence. Many are found capable of bravely bearing up under privations, and cheerfully encountering obstructions, who are afterward found unable to withstand the more dangerous influences of prosperity. It is only a weak man whom the wind deprives of his cloak ; a man of average strength is- more in danger of losing it when assailed by the beams of a too genial sun. Thus it often needs a higher discipline and a stronger character to bear up under good fortune than under adverse. Some generous natures, kindle and warm with prosperity, but there are many on whom wealth has no such, influence. Base hearts it only hardens,, making those who are mean and servile,, mean and proud. But Avhile prosperity is apt to harden the heart to pride, adversity in a man of resolu- tion will serve to ripen it into fortitude. To use the words of Burke, "Difficulty is a severe instructor, set over us by the supreme ordinance of a parental Guardian and instruc- tor, who knows us better than we know our- selves, as He loves us better too. He that wrestles us strengthens our nerves, and sharpens our skill; our antagonist is thus our helper." Without the necessity of encountering difficulty, life might be easier, THE ROYAL ROAD TO SUCCESS. 95 but men would be worth less. For trials, wisely improved, train the character, and teach self-help ; thus hardship itself may often prove the wholesomest discipline for us, though we recognize it not. When the gallant young Hodson, unjustly removed from his Indian command, felt himself sore pressed down by unmerited calumny and reproach, he yet preserved the courage to say to a friend, " I strive to look the worst boldly in the face, as I would an enemy in the field, and to do my appointed work resolutely and to the best of my ability, satisfied that there is a reason for all; and that even irksome duties well done bring their own reward, and that, if not, still they are duties." The battle of life is, in most cases, fought uphill; and to win it without a struggle were perhaps to win it without honor. If there were no difficulties there would be no success; if there were nothing to struggle for, there would be nothing to be achieved. Difficulties may intimidate the weak, but they act only as a wholesome stimulus to men of resolution and valor. All experience of life, indeed, serves to prove that the im- pediments thrown in the way of human advancement may, for the most part, be over- come by steady good conduct, honest zeal, activity, perseverance and, above all, by a de- termined resolution to surmount difficulties, and stand up manfully against misfortune. The Hill Difficulty. It is a weary hill Of moving sand that still Shifts, struggle as we will, Beneath our tread : Of those who went before, And tracked the desert o'er. The footmarks are no more. But gone and fled. I gaze on that bright band, Who on the summit stand, To order and command, Like stars on high : Yet with despairing pace My way I could retrace, Or on this desert place Sink down and die. As we who toil and weep, And with our weeping steep The path o'er which we creep. They had not striven ; They must have taken flight To that serenest lieight, And won it by the might Of wings from heaven. Richard Chenevix Trench. Grappling with Obstacles. The school of difficulty is the best school of moral discipline, for nations as for individuals. Indeed, the history of diffi- culty would be but a history of all the great and good things that have yet been accom- plished by men. It is hard to say how much northern nations owe to their encounter with a comparatively rude and changeable climate, and an originally sterile soil, which is one of the necessities of their condition — involving a perennial struggle with difficulties such as the natives of sunnier climes know nothing of. And thus it may be, that though our finest products are exotic, the skill and industry which have been necessary to rear them,, have issued in the production of a native growth of men not surpassed on the globe. Wherever there is difficulty, the individual man must come out for better or for worse. Encounter with it will train his strength, and discipline his skill ; heartening him for future effort, as the racer, by being trained to run up the high hill, at length courses with facility. The road to success may be steep to climb, and it puts to the proof the energies of him who would reach the summit. But by experience a man soon learns that obstacles m THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. are to be overcome by grappling with them ; that the nettle feels as soft as silk when it is boldly grasped ; and that the most effective help toward realizing the object proposed is the moral conviction that we can and will accomplish it. Thus difficulties often fall away of themselves before the determination to overcome them. "Try, Try Again." Much will be done if we do but try Nobody knows what he can do till he has tried ; and few try their best till they have been forced to do it. " If I could do such and such a thing," sighs the desponding youth. But nothing will be done if he only wishes. The desire must ripen into purpose and effort ; and one energetic attempt is worth a thousand aspirations. It is these thorny " ifs " — the mutterings of impotence and despair — which so often hedge round the field of possibility, and prevent anything being done or even attempted. " A diffi- culty," says a well-known author, " is a thing to be overcome ; " grapple with it at once ; facility will come with practice, and strength and fortitude with repeated effort. Thus the mind and character may be trained to an almost perfect discipline, and enabled to act with a grace, spirit and liberty, almost incom- prehensible to those who have not passed through a similar experience. Everything that we learn is the mastery or a difficulty ; and the mastery of one helps to the mastery of others. Things which may at first sight appear comparatively valueless in education — such as the study of the dead languages, and the relations of lines and sur- faces which we call mathematics — are really of the greatest practical value, not so much because of the information which they yield, as because of the development which they compel. The mastery of these studies evokes effort, and cultivates powers of appli- cation, which otherwise might have lain dormant. Thus one thing leads to another, and so the work goes on through life — encounter with difficulty ending only when life and culture end. But indulging in the feehng of discouragement never helped anyone over a difficulty, and never will. D'Alembert's advice to the student who complained to him about his want of success in mastering the first elements of mathematics was the right one, " Go on, sir, and faith and strength will come to you." Henry Clay's Advice to Young Men. The danseuse who turns a pirouette, the violinist who plays a sonata, have acquired their dexterity by patient repetition and after many failures. Carissimi, when praised for the ease and grace of his melodies, exclaimed, "Ah! you little know with what difficulty this ease has been acquired." Sir Joshua Reynolds, when once asked how long it had taken him to paint a certain picture, replied, "AU my life." When Dr. Lyman Beecher was asked how long it took him to prepare one of his mas- terly discourses that had just electrified thousands, he promptly repHed, " Forty years." Henry Clay, when giving advice to young men, said, "I owe my success in life to one circumstance, that at the age of twenty-seven I began and continued for years, the process of daily reading and speaking upon the contents of some histori- cal or scientific book. These off-hand efforts were made, sometimes in a corn-field, at others in the forest, and not unfrequently in some distant barn, with the horse and the ox for my auditors. It is to this early practice of the art of all arts that I am indebted for the primary and leading im- I 98 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. pulses that stimulated me onward and have shaped and moulded my whole subsequent destiny." Curran, the Irish orator, when a youth, had a strong defect in his articulation, and at school he was known as "stuttering Jack Curran." While he was engaged in the study of the law, and still struggling to over- come his defect, he was stung into eloquence by the sarcasms of a member of a debating club, who characterized him as "Orator Mum ; " for, like Cowper, when he stood up to speak on a previous occasion, Curran had not been able to utter a word. The taunt stung him and he replied in a triumphant speech. Practice Makes Perfect. This accidental discovery in himself of the gift of eloquence encouraged him to proceed in his studies with renewed energy. He corrected his enunciation by reading aloud, emphatically and distinctly, the best passages ■in literature for several hours every day, studying his features before a mirror, and adopting a method of gesticulation suited to his rather awkward and ungraceful figure. He also proposed cases to himself, which he argued with as much care as if he had been addressing a jury. Curran began business with the qualifica- tion which Lord Eldon stated to be the first requisite for distinction, that is, "to be not worth a shilling." While working his way laboriously at the bar, still oppressed by the diffidence which had overcome him in his debating club, he was on one occasion pro- voked by the Judge (Robinson) into making a very severe retort. In the case under dis- cussion, Curran observed, "that he had never met the law as laid down by his lordship in any book in his library." "That may be, sir," said the judge, in a contemptuous tone. "but I suspect that your library is v&cy small." His lordship was notoriously a furious political partisan, the author of several anonymous pamphlets characterized by un- usual violence and dogmatism. Curran, roused by the allusion to his- straightened circumstances, replied thus: "It is very true, my lord, that I am poor, and the circumstance has certainly curtailed my library ; my books are not numerous but they are select, and I hope they have been perused with proper dispositions. I have prepared myself for this high profession by the study of a few good works, rather than, by the composition of a great many bad ones. I am not ashamed of my poverty;. but I should be ashamed of my wealth,, could I have stooped to acquire it by servility and corruption. If I rise not to rank, I shall at least be honest ; and should I ever cease to be so, many an example shows me that an ill-gained elevation, by making me the more conspicuous, would only make me the more universally and the more notoriously- contemptible." Honorable Poverty. Be thou clad in russet weed, Be thou decked in silken stole. Grave these counsels on thy soul : Say man's true, genuine estimate. The grand criterion of his fate, Is not, art thou high or low ? Did thy fortune ebb or flow? Did many talents gild the span ? Or frugal nature grudge thee one ? Tell them, and press it on their mind, As thou thyself must shortly find, The smile or frown of awful Heaven To virtue or to vice is given. Say, to the just, and kind, and wise. There solid self-enjoyment lies ; That foolish, selfish, faithless ways, Lead to the wretched, vile, and base. Robert Burns. The extremest poverty has been no ob- stacle in the way of men devoted to the duty THE ROYAL ROAD TO SUCCESS. /!♦> of self-culture. Professor Alexander Murray, the linguist, learned to write by scribbling his letters on an old wool-card with the end of a burned heather stem. The only book which his father, who was a poor shepherd, possessed, was a penny Shorter Catechism ; but that, being thought too valuable for common use, was carefully preserved in a cupboard for the Sunday catechizings. Pro- fessor Moor, when a young man, being too poor to purchase Newton's "Principia," bor- rowed the book, and copied the whole of it with his own hand. Many poor students, while laboring daily for their living, have only been able to snatch an atom of knowl- edge here and there at intervals, as birds do their food in winter time when the fields are covered with snow. They have struggled on, and faith and hope have come to them. The Pleasure of Hard Work. A well-known author and publisher, Wil- liam Chambers, of Edinburgh, speaking before an assemblage of young men in that city, thus briefly described to them his humble beginnings, for their encouragement : "I stand before you," he said, "a self- educated man. My education is that which is supplied at the humble parish schools of Scotland; and it was only when I went to Edinburgh, a poor boy, that I devoted my evenings, after the labors of the day, to the cultivation of that intellect which the Al- mighty has given me. From seven or eight in the morning till nine or ten at night was I at my business as a bookseller's apprentice, and it was only during hours after these, stolen from sleep, that I could devote myself to study. I did not read novels : my atten- tion was devoted to physical science, and other useful matters. I also taught myself French, I look back to those times with great pleasure, and am almost sorry I have not to go through the same cxpcri-.n-. cr again ; for I reaped more pleasure when I had not a sixpence in my poc":et, studying- in a garret in Edinburgh, than I now find- when sitting amid all the elegancies and comforts of a parlor." Story of Elihu Burritt. The story of the "learned blacksmith" is so interesting and instructive, and points so clearly to the true sources of success that we take pleasure in inserting it here. Elihu Burritt was the third son of a shoe- maker, the youngest of ten children. He was born in New Britain, Connecticut, on the 8th of December, 1810. The parents' of this distinguished man were a pious and amiable couple. When about sixteen years' of age, Elihu was apprenticed to a black- smith and made his home with his brother Elijah, an educated man, who had been driven from Georgia because of his anti- slavery proclivities. At one and twenty, when Elihu's apprenticeship expired, he became a student with his brother, who was the village schoolmaster. At the close of the term he returned to the shop, determined to make up the time he had lost, which he attempted to do by performing the work of two men and getting double pay. In 1 84 1 Burritt made his first appearance as a public lecturer, and about that time, or shortly after, he established a weekly paper entitled " The Christian Citizen." It was a very attractive, instructive and able paper. In its columns were articles of great value, and some of them have found their way into volumes of choice selections. In 1846 he made his first visit to England, where he published " Sparks from the Anvil." During the potato famine in Ireland, his appeals to his fellow-countrymen for aid met with generous responses. In 1863 Mr. Burritt \ 100 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. made a second visit to England, and during the summer season he walked from London to John O'Groat's, the most northern point of Scotland, and afterward gave an account of his journey in a fascinating book. Left an Honored Name. Two years later, 'resident Lincoln ap- apointed him to the -^fifice of U. S. Consul at Birmingham, and for five years he filled the position with honor to his country and credit to himself His leisure was filled with literary labor and occasional speech-making in favor of temperance, peace, international arbitration, coperative employment, cheap Postage, etc. He was an emphatic and enthusiastic advocate of peace, writing essays and delivering addresses, and doing all that he could to help the cause along. In 1870 he returned to his native town, where he died on the 8th of March, 1879. In the words of Mr. Frederick Sherlock, in liis beautiful book entitled " Illustrious Ab- stainers," " He left to his country the sweet fragrance of a name which will be ever honored as amongst the noblest of the age in. which he lived, and bequeathed to the world a glorious example of self-culture, which, we doubt not, will be potential for good through all time." What a lesson is here in the life of this good man. The son of a poor shoemaker; a . blacksmith's apprentice and student; a journeynian, mastering many languages; a lecturer, editor and author; an iconoclast reformer, swinging his battle-axe with more force than he did the hammer ; a representa- tive man at home and abroad, admired and honored for his learning and culture, and for his great ability. Above and beyond all this, he was a modest, Christian gentleman, seeking in every way to proclaim the gospel of "peace on earth and goodwill to men." Some men are not so great in their own estimation as they are in that of others. What they have done has been the result of such a gradual preparation, that they are not conscious of their own power, and their deeds have been so long before the world that they have become household names. Some never blow their own trumpet, but keep themselves quite behind the curtain, and present their cause in a modest, yet earnest manner. Such generally succeed in their undertakings, and eventually secure lasting fame if their cause is a worthy one. His Works Spoke for Him. Those who talk about themselves more than about their cause are sure to fail, and they merit the contempt they have earned. It is easy to be courageous when there is no danger, but cowardly in times of great diffi- culty. Some spend their time in boasting in a pompous manner what they intend to do, but never commence the task while others do the work, and let it speak for itself. Elihu Burritt's works spoke for him. This remarkable man, who was a living, speaking polyglott,was also an excellent mathematician. Figures tumbled from his pencil like seeds from a sack. He commanded a graphic pen, and some of his essays and sketches are classed with the best efforts in the language. He was also a good Samaritan, a philanthro- pist and reformer, with a soft heart in his bosom. Believing that God made of one blood all the nations of the earth, he aimed to unite them by the fraternal links of brother- hood. He looked upon war as an inexcusable evil, and labored manfully for its extinction. He would dismantle the arsenal, disband the army, spike the cannon and reforge the sword and cutlass, turning them into agricultural implements. He would take our ships of war and lade them to the water's edge with food THE ROYAL ROAD TO SUCCESS. 101 and clothing for the poor. He said the bal- Ust should be round clams, or the real juahaugs, heavy as cast-iron and capital for roasting. Then he would build along up, filling every square inch with well-cured pro- provisions. He would have a hogshead of bacon mounted into every porthole, each of which should discharge fifty hams a minute when the ship was brought into action, and thrown into Keil by the besieging armies ; he would barricade the low, narrow streets with loaves of bread, would throw up a breastwork clear around the market-place of barrels of flour, pork and beef, and in the middle raise a stack of salmon and codfish as large as a Methodist meeting-house, with a steeple to it, and the bell should ring to all the city bells, and the city bells should ring lllj ■iiin iiMiiiim sfi^ K THE SOLDIER S DREAM. the State-rooms should be filled with well- made garments, and the taut cordage and the long tapering spires should be festooned with boys' jackets and trowsers. Then, when there should be no more room for another codfish or herring or sprig of catnip, he would run up the white flag of peace. He would throw as many hams into a famine-stricken city in twenty-four hours as there were bomb-shells and cannon-balls to all the people to come to market and buy provisions without money and without price And white flags should everywhere wave in the breeze on the vanes of steeples, on mastheads, on flagstones along the embat- tled walls, on the ends of willow sticks borne by romping, laughing, trooping children. All the blood-colored drapery of war should bow and blush before the stainless standard of peace. ^ 102 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. It is a notable fact that the great majority of American boys who have become famous had to struggle hard with poverty. It is related of Martin Van Buren that he used to learn his lessons in the evening by the light of a pine knot, blazing in the old country fireplace. This was cheaper than even a tallow candle. A Poor, Barefooted Boy. Sir Walter Scott was accustomed to cite the case of his young friend John Leyden as •one of the most remarkable illustrations of the power of perseverance which he had ever known. The son of a shepherd in one of the wildest valleys in Roxburgshire, he was almost entirely self-educated. Like many Scotch shepherds' sons — like Hogg, who taught himself to write by copying the letters of a printed book as he lay watching his flock on the hillside — like Cairns, who from •tending sheep on the Lammermoors, raised himself by dint of application and industry to .the professor's chair which he filled with honor— like Murray, Ferguson and many more, Leyden was early inspired by a thirst for knowledge. When a poor barefooted boy he walked si.x or eight miles across the moors daily to learn reading at the little village schoolhouse of Kirkton ; and this was all the education he received ; the rest lie acquired for himself He found his way to Edinburgh to attend the college there, setting the extremest pen- ury at defiance. He was first discovered as the frequenter of a small booksellers' shop kept by Archibald Constable, afterward so well known as a publisher. He would pass hour after hour perched on a ladder in mid- air, with some great folio in his hand, forget- ful of the scanty meal of bread and water which awaited him at his miserable lodging. Access to books and lectures comprised all within the bounds of his wishes. Thus he toiled and battled at the gates of science untiJ his unconquerable perseverance carried every- thing before it. Before he had attained his nineteenth year he had astonished all the professors in Edin- burgh by his profound knowledge of Greek and Latin, and the general mass of informa- tion he had acquired. Having turned his views to India, he sought employment in the civil service, but failed. He was, however, informed that a surgeon's assistant's commis- sion was open to him. But he was no surgeon, and knew no more of the profes- sion than a child. He could, however, learn. Then he was told that he must be ready to pass in six months 1 Nothing daunted, he took his degree with honor. Scott and a few friends helped to fit him out; and he sailed for India, after publishing his beautiful poem, " The Scenes of Infancy." In India he promised to become one of the greatest of Oriental scholars, but was unhappily cut off by fever caught by exposure, and died at an early age. A Dull Genius. The life of the late Dr. Lee, Professor of Hebrew at Cambridge, furnishes one of the most remarkable instances in modern times of the power of patient perseverance and resolute purpose in working out an honor- able career in literature. He received his education at a charity school at Lognor, Shrewsbury, but so little distinguished him- self there, that his master pronounced him one of the dullest boys that ever passed through his hands. He was put apprentice to a carpenter, and worked at that trade until he arrived at man- hood. To occupy his leisure hours he took to reading; and, some of the books contain- ing Latin quotations, he became desirous of THE ROYAL ROAD TO SUCCESS. 103 ascertaining what they meant. He bought a Latin grammar, and proceeded to learn Latin. As Stone, the Duke of Argyle's gardener, said, long before, " Does one need to know anything more than the twenty-four letters in order to learn everything else that one wishes." Lee rose early and sat up late, and sat up late, and he succeeded in mastering the Latin before his apprenticeship was out. While working one day in some place of worship, a copy of a Greek Testament fell in his way, and he was immediately filled with the desire to learn that language. He accordingly sold some of his Latin books, and purchased a Greek Grammar and Lexi- con. Taking pleasure in learning, he soon mastered the language. " The Learned Carpenter." Then he sold his Greek books, and bought Hebrew ones, and learned that language, -unassisted by any instructor, without any hope of fame or reward, but simply following the bent of his genius. He next proceeded to learn the Chaldee, Syriac and Samaritan dialects. But his studies began to tell upon his health, and brought on disease in his eyes through his long night-watchings with his books. Having laid them aside for a time and recovered his health, he went on with his daily work. His character as a tradesman being excellent, his business im- proved, and his means enabled him to marry, which he did when twenty-eight years old. He determined now to devote himself to the maintenance of his family, and to re- nounce the luxury of literature; accordingly he sold all his books. He might have con- tinued a working carpenter all his life, had not the chest of tools upon which he de- pended for subsistence been destroyed by fire, and destitution stared him in the face. He was too poor to buy new tools, so he bethought him of teaching children their let- ters — a profession requiring the least possi- ble capital. But though he had mastered many languages, he was so defective in the common branches of knowledge, that at first he could not teach them. Resolute of pur- pose, however, he assiduously set to work, and taught himself arithmetic and writing to such a degree as to be able to impart the knowledge of these branches to little chil- dren. The Top Round of the Ladder. His unaffected, simple and beautiful char, acter gradually attracted friends, and the acquirements of the "learned carpenter" became bruited abroad. Dr. Scott, a neigh- boring clergyman, obtained for him the appointment of master of a charity school in Shrewsbury, and introduced him to a distinguished Oriental scholar. These friends supplied him with books, and Lee succes- sively mastered Arabic, Persic and Hin- dostanee. He continued to pursue his studies while on duty as a private in the local militia of the county ; gradually acquir- ing greater proficiency in languages. At length his kind patron. Dr. Scott, enabled Lee to enter Queen's College, Cambridge; and after a course of study, in which he distinguished himself by his mathematical acquirements, a vacancy occurring in the professorship of Arabic and Hebrew, he was worthily elected to fill the honorable office. Besides ably performing his duties as a professor, he voluntarily gave much of his time to the instruction of missionaries going forth to preach the Gospel to Eastern tribes in their own tongue. He also made transla- tions of the Bible into several Asiatic dia- lects ; and having mastered the New Zealand language, he arranged a grammar and 104 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. vocabulary for two New Zealand chiefs who Were then in England, which books are now in daily use in the New Zealand schools. Such, in brief, is the remarkable history of Dr. Samuel Lee; and it is but the counter- part of numerous similarly instructive exam- ples of the power of perseverance in self- culture, as displayed in the lives of many of the most distinguished of our literary and scientific men. An Iron "Will and a Stout Heart. Faith, firmness, confidence, consistency — these are well allied ; Yea, let a man press on in aught, he shall not lack of honor : For such a one seemeth as superior to the native instability of creatures ; That he doeth, he doeth as a god, and men will marvel at his courage. Fven in crimes, a partial praise cannot be denied to daring, And many fearless chiefs have won the friendship of a foe. Confidence is conqueror of men ; victorious both over them and in them ; The iron will of one stout heart shall make a thou- sand quail : A feeble dwarf, dauntlessly resolved, will turn the tide of battle. And rally to a nobler strife the giants that had fled : The tenderest child, unconscious of a fear, will shame the man to danger. And when he dared it, danger died, and faith had vanquished fear. Boldness is akin to power : yea, because ignorance is weakness, [Knowledge with unshrinking might will nerve the vigorous hand. M. F. TUPPER. There are many other illustrious names which might be cited to prove the truth of the common saying that "it is never too late to learn." Even at advanced years men can do much, if they will determine on making a beginning. Benjamin Franklin was fifty before he fully entered upon the study of Natural Philosophy. Dryden and Scott were not known as authors until each was in his fortieth year. James Watt, when about forty, while working at his trade of an instrument-maker in Glasgow, learned French, German and Italian, to enable him- self to peruse the valuable works on me- chanical philosophy which existed in those languages. Handel was forty-eight before he published any of his great works. In- deed, hundreds of instances might be given of men who struck out an entirely new path, and successfully entered on new studies, at a comparatively advanced time of life. None but the frivolous or the indolent will say, " I am too old to learn." Men who Move the 'World. And here we would repeat what we have said before, that it is not men of genius who move the world and take the lead in it, so much as men of steadfastness, purpose and indefatigable industry. Notwithstanding the many undeniable instances of the precocity of men of genius, it is nevertheless true that early cleverness gives no indication of the height to which the grown man will reach. Precocity is sometimes a symptom of disease rather than of intellectual vigor. What becomes of all the "remarkably clever children?" Where are the prodigies and prize-boys? Trace them through life,, and it will frequently be found that the dull boys, who were beaten at school, have shot ahead of them. The clever boys are re- warded, but the prizes which they gain by their greater quickness and facility do not always prove of use to them. What ought rather to be rewarded is the endeavor, the struggle and the obedience; for it is the youth who does his best, though endowed with an inferiority of natural powers, that ought above all others to be encouraged. An interesting chapter might be written The Royal Road. One step I see before me ; 'Tis all I need to see ; The light of heaven more brightlyS^J shines When earth's illusions flee, And sweetly through the silence comes His loving " Follow Me." Where He may lead I'll follow. My trust in Him repose, And every hour in perfect peac'? I'll sina, "He knows H;- tvnws." i of wisdom, sed not to know ; ne with His own right han(? . not let me go, ny troubled soul to rest ' who loves me so. v3u uii J- K". not knowing I would not if I might ; I'd rather walk in the dark with God Than go alone in the light ; I'd rather walk by faith with Him Than go alone by sight. Mary G. Brainari>, 106 THE ROYAL ROAD TO SUCCESS. on the subject of illustrious dunces — dull boys, but brilliant men. We have room, however, for only a few instances. Isaac Newton, when at school, stood at the bot- tom of the lowest form but one. The boy above Newton having kicked him, the dunce showed his pluck by challenging him to a fight, and beat him. Then he set to work with a will, and determined also to vanquish his antagonist as a scholar, which he did, rising to the top of his class. Brilliant Dunces. Many of our greatest divines have been anything but precocious. Isaac Barrow, when a boy at the Charterhouse School, was notorious chiefly for his strong temper, pugnacious habits, and proverbial idleness as a scholar; and he caused such grief to his parents that his father used to say that, if it pleased God to take from him any of his children, he hoped it might be Isaac, the least promising of them all. Adam Clarke, when a boy, was proclaimed by his father to be "a grievous dunce;" though he could roll large stones about. The well-known Dr. Chalmers and Dr. Cook, late Professor of Moral Philosophy at St. Andrew's, were boys together at the parish school; and they were found so stupid and mischievous, that the master, irritated beyond measure, dis- missed them both as incorrigible dunces. The brilliant Sheridan showed so little capacity as a boy, that he was presented to a tutor by his mother with the compHmen- tary accompaniment that he was an incor- rigible dunce. Walter Scott was all but a dunce when a boy. At the Edinburgh Uni- versity, Professor Dalzell pronounced upon him the sentence that " Dunce he was, and dunce he would remain." Chatterton was returned on his mother's hands as "a fool, ■of whom nothing could be made." Burns was a dull boy, good only at athletic exer- cises. Goldsmith spoke of himself as a plant that flowered late. Alfieri left college no wiser than he entered it, and did not begin the studies by which he distinguished himself until he had run half over Europe. Robert Clive was a dunce, if not a repro- bate, when a youth ; but always full of energy, even in badness. His family, glad to get rid of him, shipped him off to Madras ; and he lived to lay the foundations of the British power in India. Napoleon and Wellington were both dull boys, not distinguishing them- selves in any way at school. A writer ob- serves that the Duke's talents seem never to have developed themselves until some active and practical field for their display was placed immediately before him. He was long described by his Spartan mother, who thought him a dunce, as only "food for powder." He gained no sort of distinction, either at Eton or at the French Military Col- lege of Angers. It is not improbable that a competitive examination, at this da)'-, might have excluded him from the army. Grant and Stonewall Jackson. Ulysses Grant, the commander-in-chief of the Federal army, was called "Useless Grant" by his mother — he was so dull and unhandy when a boy; and Stonewall Jackson, Lee's greatest lieutenant, was, in his youth, chiefly noted for his slowness. While a pupil at West Point Military Academy he was, how- ever, equally remarkable for his indefatigable application and perseverance. When a task was set him, he never left it until he had mastered it ; nor did he ever feign to possess knowledge which he had not entirely ac- quired. "Again and again," wfote one who knew him, "when called upon to answer questions in the recitation oi the day, he would reply: 'I have not looked at it; I THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 107 have been engaged in mastering the recita- tion of yesterday or the day before.' The result was that he graduated seventeenth in a class of seventy. There was probably in the whole class not a boy to whom Jackson at the outset was not inferior in knowledge and attainments; but at the end of the race he had only sixteen before him, and had out- stripped no fewer than fifty-three. It used to be said of him by his contemporaries, that if the course had been for ten years instead of four, Jackson would have graduated at the head of his class." The Swift Tortoise. John Howard, the philanthropist, was another illustrious dunce, learning next to nothing during the seven years that he was at school. The brilliant Sir Humphry Davy was no cleverer than other boys : his teacher, Dr. Cardew, once said of him: "While he was with me I could not discern the faculties by which he was so much distinguished." Indeed, Davy himself in after life considered it fortunate that he had been left to "enjoy so much idleness" at school. Watt was a dull scholar, notwithstanding the stories told about his precocity; but he was, what was better, patient and perseverant, and it was by such qualities, and by his carefully cultivated inventiveness, that he was enabled to perfect his steam-engine. What Dr. Arnold said of boys is equally true of men — that the difference between one boy and another consists not so much in talent as in energy. Given perseverance, and energy soon becomes habitual. Provided the dunce has persistency and application, he will inevitably head the cleverer fellow without those qualities. Slow but sure wins the race. It is perseverance that explams how the positions of boys at school are so often reversed in real life ; and it is curious to note how some who were then so clever have since become so commonplace ; while others, dull boys, of whom nothing was expected, slow in their faculties but sure in their pace, have assumed the position of leaders of men. The tortoise in the right road will beat a racer in the wrong. It matters not, though a youth be slow, if he be but diligent. Quickness of parts may even prove a defect,- inasmuch as the boy who learns readily will often forget as readily ; and also because he finds no need of cultivating that quality of application and perseverance which the slower youth is compelled to exercise, and which proves so valuable an element in the forma- tion of every character. Davy said, " What I am I have made myself; " and the same holds true universally. To conclude: the best culture is not obtained from teachers when at school or college, so much as by our own diligent self-education when we have become men. Hence parents need not be in too great haste to see their children's talents forced into bloom. Let them watch and wait patiently, letting good example and quiet training do their work, and leave the rest to Providence. Let them see to it that the youth is provided, by free exercise of his bodily powers, with a full stock of physical health ; set him fairly on the road of self-culture; carefully train his habits of application and perseverance ; and as he grows older, if the right stuff be in him, he will be enabled vigorously and effectively to cultivate himself, and make sure of success. k 108 MANUAL TRAINING SCHOOL, 4 CHAPTBR VI. THE SCHOOL OF EVERYDAY LIFE. OU may go to school all your life and yet be a dunce. Your head may be a library stuffed with book knowledge, yet you may not know enough to hoe a hill of beans. You may lack that practical wisdom and tact which make a success of life. You may be like the man who invented a folding-bed, got shut up in it, set to work to invent a way to get out, while his wife with hammer and saw liberated him just as he was about smothering to death. You may have talents bright as the sun, yet be dependent on very ordinary people. You may be a know-everything and a do-nothing. It is well to have knowledge and be famous for learning and general information. If success came from the knowing, you would be fortunate. The world is full of learned dunces. They can expound politics, foretell the weather, quote history, spin theories as long as an ocean cable, discourse on phil- osophy and religion, be reckoned as men of wonderful attainments, and live on what their "wives earn by doing washing for their neighbors. You may be a very successful dreamer and theorizer, yet in practical life — bread- and-butter life — you may be a big failure — a failure even compared with the dusky boot- black around the corner who can shine a pair of shoes and do it well. This is not saying knowledge and education are of no account ; it is saying that you may lack a certain tact, a power of applying what you know, and may utterly fail in the practical work of hfe. Who learns and learns, but acts not what he knows, Is one who ploughs and ploughs, but never sows. The world will not start of itself and go for you. You must make it go. It will not turn round while you look on and do noth- ing. It will turn round if you are at the crank to make it turn. And you must know how to do the turning. Do not stand still and look on ; you may stand and stare until the heavens roll together and be no better for it. You cannot save your linen ; it will get soiled. Never mind, but roll up your sleeves and go at it. Better soiled linen than none at all. You cannot play the gentle- man if you ever expect to accomplish any- thing of importance. Of all the big fortunes in New York, Philadelphia, Chicago and other cities, every one was made by hard work and "horny hands;" not one would know a pair of kid gloves without an intro- duction. You Must Face the Hard Facts. We have been speaking of practical wisdom, and practical wisdom is only to be learned in the school of experience. Pre- cepts and instructions are useful so far as they go, but, without the discipline of real life, they remain of the nature of theory onlyo The hard facts of existence have to be faced, to give that touch of truth to character which can never be imparted by reading or tuition, but only by contact with the broad instincts of common men and women. 109 no THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. To be worth anything, character must be capable of standing firm upon its feet in the world of daily work, temptation, and trial; and able to bear the wear-and-tear of actual life. Cloistered virtues do not count for much. The life that rejoices in solitude may be only rejoicing in selfishness. Seclusion may indicate contempt for others; though more usually it means indolence, cowardice, or self-indulgence. To every human being belongs his fair share of manful toil and human duty ; and it cannot be shirked with- out loss to the individual himself, as well as to the community to which he belongs. You Must Know Yourself. It is only by mixing in the daily life of the world, and taking part in its affairs, that practical knowledge can be acquired and wisdom learned. It is there that we find our chief sphere of duty, that we learn the discipline of work, and that we educate ourselves in that patience, diligence, and endurance which shape and consolidate the character. There we encounter the diffi- culties, trials, and temptations which, accord- ing as we deal with them, give a color to our entire after-life ; and there, too, we become subject to the great discipline of suffering, from which we learn far more than from the safe seclusion of the study or the cloister. Contact with others is also requisite to enable a man to know himself. It is only by mixing freely in the world that one can form a proper estimate of his own capacity. Without such experience, one is apt to be- come conceited, puffed up, and arrogant; at all events, he will remain ignorant of him- self, though he may heretofore have enjoyed no other company. Swift once said : " It is an uncontroverted truth, that no man ever made an ill-figure who understood his own talents, nor a good one who mistook them." Many persons, however, are readier to take measure of the capacity of others than of themselves. " Bring him to me," said a certain Dr. Tronchin, of Geneva, speaking of Rous- seau — "bring him to me, that I may see whether he has got anything in him!" — the probability being that Rousseau, who knew himself better, was much more likely to take measure of Tronchin than Tronchin was to take measure of him. A due amount of self-knowledge is, there- fore, necessary for those who would be any- thing or do anything in the world. It is also one of the first essentials to the forma- tion of distinct personal convictions. Fred- erick Perthes once said to a young friend, "You know only too well what you can do; but till you have learned what you cannot do, you will neither accomplish anything of moment nor know inward peace." The Value of Common Sense. Any one who would profit by experience will never be above asking help. He who thinks himself already too wise to learn of others, will never succeed in doing anything either good or great. We have to keep our minds and hearts open, and never be ashamed to learn, with the assistance of those who are wiser and more experienced than our- selves. The man made wise by experience en- deavors to judge correctly of the things which come under his observation, and form the subject of his daily life. What we call common sense is, for the most part, but the result of common experience wisely improved. Nor is great ability necessary to acquire it, so much as patience, accuracy and watchful- ness. Hazlitt thought the most sensible people to be met with are intelligent mea THE SCHOOL OF EVERYDAY LIFE. Ill of business and of the world, who argue from what they see and know, instead of spinning cobweb distinctions of what things ought to be. The Tact of Women. For the same reason, women often display- more good sense than men, having fewer pretensions, and judging of things naturally, by the involuntary impression they make on the mind. Their intuitive powers are quicker, their perceptions more acute, their sympathies more lively, and their manners more adaptive to particular ends. Hence their greater tact as displayed in the management of others, women of apparently slender intellectual powers often contriving to control and regu- late the conduct of men of even the most impracticable nature. Pope paid a high compliment to the tact and good sense of Mary, Queen of William HI, when he de- scribed her as possessing, not a science, but (what was worth all else) prudence. The whole of life may be regarded as a great school of experience, in which men and women are the pupils. As in a school, many of the lessons learned there must needs be taken on trust. We may not understand them, and may possibly think it hard that we have to learn them, especially where the teachers are trials, sorrows, temptations and difficulties; and yet we must not only accept their lessons, but recognize them as being divinely appointed. To what extent have the pupils profited by their experience in the school of life? What advantage have they taken of their opportunities for learning? What have they gained in discipline of heart and mind? — how much in growth of wisdom, courage, self-control? Have they preserved their integrity amidst prosperity, and enjoyed life in temperance and moderation? Or, has life been with them a mere feast of selfishness,, without care or thought for others? What have they learned from trial and adversity?' Have they learned patience, submission and- trust in God? Or have they learned nothing, but impatience, querulousness and discon- tent? The results of experience are, of course,, only to be achieved by living; and living is a question of time. The man of experience- learns to rely upon time as his helper. "Time and I against any two," was a maxim of Cardinal Mazarin. Time has been de- scribed as a beautifier and as a consoler; but it is also a teacher. It is the food of experience, the soil of wisdom. It may be the friend or the enemy of youth; and time will sit beside the old as a consoler or as a tormentor, accordmg as it has been used or misused, and the past life has been well or ill spent. Ins Web of Time. Ceaselessly the weaver, Time, Sitteth at his mj'stic loom. Keeps his arrowy shuttle flying — Every thread anears our dying — And with melancholy chime, Very low and sad withal, Sings his solemn madrigal As he weaves our web of doom. " Mortals ! " thus he, weaving, sings, " Bright or dark the web shall be, As ye will it, all the tissues Blending in harmonious issues Or discordant colorings ; Time the shuttle drives, but you Give to every thread its hue, And elect your destiny. ' ' W. H. BURI,EIGH. Making the Most of To-Day. For To-day the lists are set, and thou must bear thee bravely. Tilting for honor, duty, life or death without re- proach : To-day is the trial of thy fortitude, O dauntless Mandan chief ! 112 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. To-day is thy watch, O sentinel ; to-day thy reprieve, O captive-, What more? To-day is the golden chance -where- with to snatch fruition. Be glad, grateful, temperate : there are asps among the figs. For the potter's clay is in thy hands, to mould it or to mar it at thy will. Or idly to leave it in the sun, an uncouth lump to harden. bright presence of To-day, let me wrestle with thee, gracious angel ; 1 will not let thee go except thou bless me ; bless me, then. To-day; sweet garden of To-day, let me gather of thee, precious Eden ; 1 have stolen bitter knowledge, give me fruits of life To-day ; true temple of To-day, let me worship in thee, glorious Zion ; 1 find none other place nor time than where I am To-day, living rescue of To-day, let me run unto thee, ark of refuge ; 1 see none other hope nor chance, but standeth in To-day ; rich banquet of To-day, let me feast upon thee, saving manna ; 1 have none other food nor store, but daily bread To-day ! M. V. TUPPER. How to Meet Discouragements. To the young, how bright the new world lootcs! — how full of novelty, of enjoyment, of pleasure! But as years pass, we find the world to be a place of sorrow as well as of joy. As we proceed through life, many dark vistas open upon us — of toil, suffering, difficulty, perhaps misfortune and failure. Happy they who can pass through and amidst such trials with a firm mind and pure heart, encountering trials with cheer- fulness, and standing erect beneath even the heaviest burden! A little youthful ardor is a great help in life, and is useful as an energetic motive- power. It is gradually cooled down by time, no matter how glowing it has been. while it is trained and subdued by expe- rience. But it is a healthy and hopeful indication of character — to be encouraged in a right direction, and not to be sneered down and repressed. It is a sign of a vigorous, unselfish nature, as egotism is of a narrow and selfish one; and to begin life with egotism and self-sufficiency is fatal to all breadth and vigor of character. Life, in such a case, would be like a year in which there was no spring. The Spring-Time of Life. Without a generous seed-time, there will be an unflowering summer and an unpro- ductive harvest. And youth is the spring- time of life, in which, if there be not a fair share of enthusiasm, little will be attempted, and still less done. It also considerably helps the working quality, inspiring confi- dence and hope, and carrying c^=i through the dry details of business and duty with cheerfulness and joy. Joseph Lancaster, when a boy only four- teen years of age, formed the resolution ot leaving his home and going out to the West Indies to teach the poor blacks to read the Bible. And he actually set out with a Bible and "Pilgrim's Progress" in his bundle, and only a few shillings in his purse. He even succeeded in reaching the West Indies, doubt- less very much at a loss how to set about his proposed work; but in the mean time his distressed parents, having discovered whither he had gone, had him speedily brought back, yet with his enthusiasm unabated; and from that time forward he unceasingly devoted himself to the truly philanthropic work of educating the desitute poor. He was only twenty years of age when he opened his first school in a spare room in his father's house, which was soon filled with the THE SCHOOL OF EVERYDAY LIFE. 113' destitute children of the neighborhood. The room was shortly found too small for the numbers seeking admission, and one place after another was hired, until at length Lan- caster had a special building erected, capable of accommodating a thousand pupils, outside of which was placed the following notice: "All that will, may send their children here and have them educated freely; and those that do not wish to have education for noth- ing may pay for it, if they please." Perseverance of Columbus. There needs all the force that enthusiasm can give to enable a man to succeed in any great enterprise of life. Without it, the ob- struction and difiticulty he has to encounter on every side might compel him to succumb ; but with courage and perseverance, inspired by enthusiasm, a man feels strong enough to face any danger, to grapple with any diffi- culty. What an enthusiasm was that of Columbus, who, believing in the existeaice of a new world, braved the dangers of unknown seas ; and when those about him despaired and rose up against him, threatening to cast him into the sea, still stood firm upon his hope and courage until the great new world at length rose upon the horizon ! The brave man will not be baffled, but tries and tries again until he succeeds. The tree does not fall at the first stroke, but only by repeated strokes and after great labor. We may see the visible success at which a man has arrived, but forget the toil and suffering and peril through which it has been achieved. When a friend of Marshal Lefevre was complim'enting him on his possessions and good fortune, the marshal said : " You envy me, do you? Well, you shall have these things at a better bargain than I had. Come into the field : I'll fire at you with a gun twenty times at thirty paces, and if I don't kill you, all shall be your own. What!: you won't! Very well; recollect, then, that I have been shot at more than a thousand- times, and much nearer, before I arrived ati the state in which you now find me ! " The apprenticeship of difficulty is orre- which the greatest of men have had to serve. It is usually the best stimulus and discipline- of character. It often evokes powers of action that, but for it, would have remained! dormant. As comets are sometimes revealed by eclipses, so heroes are brought to light by sudden calamity. It seems as if, in cer- tain case.-,, genius, like iron struck by the flint, needed the sharp and sudden blow of adversity to bring out the divine spark. There are natures which blossom and ripen amidst trials, which would only wither and decay in an atmosphere of ease and comfort. Difficulties are Blessings. Thus it is good for men to be roused into action and stiffened into self-reliance by difficulty, rather than to slumber away their lives in useless apathy and indolence. It is the struggle that is the condition of victory. If there were no difficulties, there would be no need of efforts ; if there were no temptations, there would be no training in self-control, and but httle merit in virtue; if there were no trial and suffering, there would be no education in patience and resignation. Thus difficulty, adversity, and suffering are not all evil, but often the best source of strength, discipline, and virtue. For the same reason, it is often of advan- tage for a man to be under the necessity of having to struggle with poverty and conquer it. "He who has battled," says Carlyle, " were it only with poverty and hard toil, will be found stronger and more expert than he who could stay at home from the battle, concealed among the provision wagons, or 114 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. even rest unwatchfully 'abiding by the stuff.'" Scholars have found poverty tolerable compared with the privation of intellectual food. Riches weigh much more heavily upon the mind. " I cannot but say to pov- erty," said Richter, " Be welcome ! so that thou come not too late in life." Poverty Makes the World Rich. The Spaniards are even said to have meanly rejoiced in the poverty of Cervantes, but for which they supposed the production af his great works might have been pre- vented. When the Archbishop of Toledo visited the French ambassador at Madrid, the gentlemen in the suite of the latter expressed their high admiration of the writ- ings of the author of " Don Quixote," and intimated their desire of .becoming acquainted with one who had given them so much pleasure. The answer they received was, that Cervantes had borne arms in the service of his country, and was now old and poor. "What ! " exclaimed one of the Frenchmen, " is not Sefior Cervantes in good circum- stances ? Why is he not maintained, then, out of the public treasury?" "Heaven forbid!" was the reply, "that his necessities should be ever relieved, if it is those which make him write ; since it is his poverty that makes the world rich ! " It is not prosperity so much as adversity, not wealth so much as poverty, that stimu- lates the perseverance of strong and healthy natures, rouses their energy and develops their character. Burke said of himself: " I was not rocked and swaddled and dandled into a legislator. ' I strive against opposi- tion ' is the motto for a man like you." Some men only require a great difficulty set in their way to exhibit the force of their character and genius ; and that difficulty, once conquered, becomes one of the greatest incentives to their farther progress. It is a mistake to suppose that men suc- ceed through success; they much oftener succeed through failure. Soon after Dr. Stephen H. Tyng took charge of his first church in North Carolina he was to have a number of prominent men, lawyers, judges and others, in his congregation one Sabbath morning, and attempted, as usual, to deliver an unwritten sermon. The result was a flat failure. On the way home his wife said, "I trust you will now give up the idea of ever becoming an extempore preacher; better stick to your notes." The prompt, emphatic reply was, "I will become an extempore speaker." The early failures ended in brilliant successes, and afterward for many years, while settled in New York, Dr. Tyng was considered the most gifted and eloquent platform orator of his time. On every great occasion his presence was eagerly sought, and thousands hung upon his lips with delight. He was a man whom failures could not defeat. Success Through Failure. By far the best experience of men is made up of their remembered failures in dealing with others in the affairs of life. Such fail- ures, in sensible men, incite to better self- management, and greater tact and self-con- trol, as a means of avoiding them in the future. Ask the diplomatist, and he will tell you that he has learned his art through being baffled, defeated, thwarted and cir- cumvented, far more than from having suc- ceeded. Precept, study, advice and example could never have taught them so well as failure has done. It has disciplined them experimentally, and taught them what to do as well as what not to do — which is often still more important. i Grandmother's Thoughts. HAT happy thoughts are flitting 1 Ah ! 'tis just the same old story, (While Grandmamma sits knitting) She is giving Christ the glory Throughout the aged heart still true and strong ? | For the mercies which have blessed her life so 1< " For like stitches on my needles," says this happy Grandma Gray, " So He multiplies my blessings and increases them each day." 115 116 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. Many have to make up their minds to encounter failure again and again before they succeed; but if they have pluck, the failure will only serve to rouse their courage, and stimulate them to renewed efforts. Talma, the greatest of actors, was hissed off the stage when he first appeared on it. Lacor- daire, one of the greatest preachers of mod- ern times, only acquired celebrity after re- peated failures. Montalembert said of his first public appearance in the Church of St. Roch : " He failed completely, and, on com- ing out, every one said, ' Though he may be a man of talent, he will never be a preacher.' " Again and again he tried, until he succeeded; and only two years after his first appearance, Lacordaire was preaching in Notre Dame to audiences such as few French orators have addressed since the time of Bossuet and Massillon. Rising Above Failures. When Mr. Cobden first appeared as a speaker, at a public meeting in Manchester he completely broke down, and the chair- man apologized for his failure. Sir James Graham and Mr. Disraeli failed and were derided at first, and only succeeded by dint of great labor and application. At one time Sir James Graham had almost given up public speaking in despair. He said to his friend Sir Francis Baring: "I have tried it .every way — extempore, from notes, and committing all to memory — and I can't do it. I don't know why it is, but I am afraid I shall never succeed." Yet, by dint of perseverance, Graham, like Disraeli, lived to become one of the most effective and im- pressive parliamentary speakers. Failures in one direction have sometimes had the effect of forcing the far-seeing stu- dent to apply himself in another. When Boileau, educated for the bar, pleaded his first cause, he broke down amidst shouts ol laughter. He next tried the pulpit, and failed there too. And then he tried poetry, and succeeded. Fontenelle and Voltaire both failed at the bar. So Cowper, through his diffidence and shyness, broke down when pleading his first cause, though he lived to revive the poetic art in England. Montes- quieu and Bentham both failed as lawyers, and forsook the bar for more congenial pur- suits — the latter leaving behind him a treas- ury of legislative procedure for all time. Goldsmith failed in passing as a surgeon; but he wrote the "Deserted Village" and the "Vicar of Wakefield." The Blind Chaplain. Even the privation of some important bodily sense, such as sight or hearing, has not been sufficient to deter courageous men from zealously pursuing the struggle of life. Milton, when struck by blindness, "still bore up and steered right onward." His greatest works were produced during that period of his life in which he suffered most — when he was poor, sick, old, blind, slandered and persecuted. Rev. W. H. Milburn was blind from early childhood, yet this did not prevent him from becoming one of the most popular preachers in America. By his retentive memory he could repeat a considerable part of the Bible, and in the pulpit would repeat long chapters instead of reading them as preachers do who have eyesight. His remarkable gifts ele- vated him to the chaplaincy of the House of Representatives at Washington, and after- ward to that of the Senate. Obstacles that many persons would consider insurmountable only spur on a man of will and perseverance, and often such men achieve greater distinc- tion than they do wl'.o have everything in their favor. THE SCHOOL OF EVERYDAY LIFE. 117 The lives of some of the greatest men have been a continuous struggle with diffi- culty and apparent defeat. Dante produced his greatest work in penury and exile. Ban- ished from his native city by the local faction to which he was opposed, his house was given up to plunder, and he was sentenced, in his absence, to be burned alive. When informed by a friend that he might return to Florence, if he would consent to ask for pardon and absolution, he replied: "No! This is not the way that shall lead me back to my country. I will return with hasty steps if you, or any other,, can open to me a way that shall not derogate from the fame or the honor of Dante ; but if by no such way Florence can be entered, then to Florence I shall never return." His enemies remaining implacable, Dante, after a banishment of twenty years, died in exile. Disastrous Adventures. Camoens also wrote his great poems mostly in banishment. Tired of solitude at Santarem, he joined an expedition against the Moors, in which he distinguished himself by his bravery. He lost an eye when board- ing an enemy's ship in a sea-fight. At Goa, in the East Indies, he witnessed with indig- nation the cruelty practised by the Portu- guese on the natives, and expostulated with the governor against it. He was in conse- quence banished from the settlement, and sent to China. In the course of his subse- quent adventures and misfortunes, Camoens suffered shipwreck, escaping only with his life and the manuscript of his " Lusiad." Persecution and hardship seemed everywhere to pursue him. At Macao he was thrown into prison. Escaping from it, he set sail for Lisbon, where he arrived, after sixteen years' absence, poor and friendless. His " Lusiad," which was shortly after pub- lished, brought him much fame, but no money. But for his old Indian slave Antonio, who begged for his master in the streets, Camoens must have perished. As it was he died in a public alms-house, worn out by disease and hardship. An inscription was placed over his grave : " Here Hes Luis de Camoens : he excelled all the poets of his time : he lived poor and miserable ; and he died so." This record, disgraceful but truthful, has since been removed ; and a lying and pomp- ous epitaph, in honor of the great national poet of Portugal, has been substituted in its stead. Men of Spite and Meanness. Tasso, also, was the victim of almost con- tinual persecution and calumny. After lying in a mad-house for seven years, he became a wanderer over Italy ; and when on his death-bed, he wrote : " I will not complain of the malignity of fortune, because I do not choose to speak of the ingratitude of men who have succeeded in dragging me to the tomb of a mendicant." But time brings about strange revenges. The persecutors and the persecuted often change places ; it is the latter who are great — the former who are infamous. Even the names of the persecutors would probably long ago have been forgotten, but for their connection with the history of the men whom they have persecuted. Thus, who would now have known of Duke Alfonso of Ferrara, but for his imprisonment of Tasso ? Or, who would have heard of the existence of the Grand Duke of Wurtemburg of some hundred years back, but for his petty perse- cution of Schiller ? Science also has had its martyrs, who have fought their way to light through diffi- culty, persecution, and suffering. We need 118 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. not refer again to the cases of Bruno, Galileo, and others, persecuted because of the sup- posed heterodoxy of their views. But there have been other unfortunates among men of science, whose genius has been unable to save them from the fury of their enemies. Priestley's House was Burned. Thus Bailly, the celebrated French astron- omer (who had been mayor of Paris), and Lavoisier, the great chemist, were both guil- lotined in the first French Revolution. When the latter, after being sentenced to death by the Commune, asked for a few days' respite, to enable him to ascertain the result of some experiments he had made during his confine- ment, the tribunal refused his appeal, and ordered him for immediate execution, one of the judges saying that " the Republic had no need of philosophers." In England also, about the same time, Dr. Priestle}^, the father of modern chemistry, had his house burned over his head, and his library de- stroyed, amidst shouts of "No philosophers ! " and he fled from his native country to lay his bones in a foreign land. The work of some of the greatest discov- erers has been done in the midst of persecu- tion, difficulty and suffering. Columbus, who discovered the New World and g.ive it as a heritage to the Old, was in his lifetime persecuted, maligned and plundered by those whom he had enriched. Mungo Park's drowning agony in the African river he had discovered, but which he was not to live to describe; Clapperton's perishing of fever on the banks of the great lake, in the heart of the same continent, which was afterwards to be rediscovered and described by other ex- plorers; Franklin's perishing in the snow — it might be after he had solved the long- sought problem of the Northwest Passage — are among the most melancholy events in the history of enterprise and genius. Suc^ cess and suffering often go together. Courageous men have often turned en- forced solitude to account in executing works of great pith and moment. It is in solitude that the passion for spiritual per- fection best nurses itself. The soul com- munes with itself in loneliness until its energy often becomes intense. But whether a man profits by solitude or not will mainly depend upon his own temperament, training and character. While, in a large-natured man, solitude will make the pure heart purer, in the small-natured man it will only serve to make the hard heart still harder; for though solitude may be the nurse of great spirits, it is the torment of small ones. John Bunyan in Jail. During his thirteen years imprisonment in the Tower, Raleigh wrote his " History of the World," a project of vast extent, of which he was only able to finish the first five books. Luther occupied his prison hours in the Castle of Wartburg in trans- lating the Bible, and in writing the famous tracts and treatises with which he inundated all Germany. It was to the circumstance of John Bunyan having been cast into jail that we probably owe the " Pilgrim's Progress." He was thus driven in upon himself; having no opportunity for action, his active mind found vent in earnest thinking and meditation; and indeed, after his liberation, his life as an author virtually ceased. His "Grace Abounding" and the "Holy War" were also Avritten in prison. Bunyan lay in Bedford Jail, with a few intervals of pre- carious liberty, during not less than twelve years; and it was most probably to his prolonged imprisonment that Ave owe what THE SCHOOL OF EVERYDAY LIFE. 119 Macaulay has characterized as the finest allegory in the world. A Quaker called on Bunyan one day with "a message from the Lord," saying he had been to half the jails of England, and was glad at last to have found him. To which Bunyan replied: "If the Lord sent thee, you would not have needed to take so much trouble to find me out, for He knew that I have been in Bedford Jail these seven years past." William Penn in Prison. Charles II imprisoned Baxter, Harrington (the author of "Oceana"), William Penn, and many more. All these men solaced their prison hours with writing. Baxter wrote some of the most remarkable pas- sages of his "Life and Times" while lying in the King's Bench Prison ; and Penn wrote his "No Cross, no Crown" while imprisoned in the Tower. In the reign of Queen Anne, Matthew Prior was in confinement, on a vamped-up charge of treason, for two years, during which he wrote his "Alma, or Pro- gress of the Soul." Since then, political prisoners of eminence in England have been comparatively few in number. Among the most illustrious were De Foe, who, besides standing three times in the pillory, spent much of his time in prison, writing "Robinson Crusoe" there, and many of his best political pamphlets. There, also, he wrote his "Hymn to the Pillory," and corrected for the press a collection of his voluminous writings. Louis Kossuth, the great Hungarian pa- triot^ orator and statesman, was imprisoned two years at Buda. He got hold of a copy of Shakespeare and occupied his time in learning the English language, so that dur- ing a subsequent visit to America, where he received immense ovations from our entire people, he surprised all who heard him by his wonderful command of our language and by his amazing eloquence. He stepped from prison to a position compared with which thrones were cheap. Men who, like these, suffer the penalty of law, and seem to fail, at least for a time, do not really fail. Many, who have seemed to fail utterly, have often exercised a more potent and enduring influence upon their race than those whose career has been a course of uninterrupted success. The char- acter of a man does not depend on whether his efforts are immediately followed by fail- ure or by success. The martyr is not a failure if the truth for which he suffered acquires a fresh lustre through his sacrifice. To Lose Life is to Save It. The patriot who lays down his life for his cause may thereby hasten its triumph ; and those who seem to throw their lives away in the van of a great movement often open a way for those who follow them, and pass over their dead bodies to victory. The triumph of a just cause may come late ; but when it does come, it is due as much to those who failed in their first efforts as to those who succeeded in their last. The example of a great death may be an inspiration to others, as well as the example of a good life. A great act does not perish with the life of him who performs it, but lives and grows up into like acts in those who survive the doer thereof and cherish his memory. Of some great men, it might almost be said that they have not begun to live until they have died. The names of the men who have suffered in the cause of religion, of science, and of truth, are the men, of all others, whose memories are held in the greatest esteem and reverence by mankind. They perished. k 120 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. but their truth survived. They seemed to fail, and yet they eventually succeeded. Prisons may have held them, but their thoughts were not to be confined by prison- -walls. They have burst through, and defied the power of their persecutors. It was Love- Jace, a prisoner, who wrote : "Stone walls do not a prison make. Nor iron bars a cage ; jyiiuds innocent and quiet take That for a hermitage." It was a saying of Milton that, "who best can suffer best can do." The Work of many of the greatest men, inspired by duty, has been done amidst suffering and trial and difficulty. They have struggled against the tide, and reached the shore exhausted, only to grasp the sand and expire. They have done their duty, and been content to die. But death hath no power over such men ; their hallowed memories still survive, to soothe and purify and bless us. " Life," said Goethe, "to us all is suffering. Who save God alone shall call us to our reckoning? Let not reproaches fall on the departed. Not what they have failed in, nor what they have suffered, but what they have done, ■ought to occupy the survivors." Adversity Shows What we are Made Of. Thus, it is not ease and facility that tries men and brings out the good that is in them, so much as trial and difficulty. Adversity is the touch-stone of character. As some herbs need to be crushed to give forth their sweetest odor, so some natures need to be tried by suffering to evoke the excellence that is in them. Hence trials often unmask virtues, and bring to light hidden graces. Men apparently useless and purposeless, •when placed in positions of difficulty and responsibility, have exhibited powers of character before unsuspected ; and where we before saw only pliancy and self-indulgence, we now see strength, valor, and self-denial. As there are no blessings which may not be perverted into evils, so there are no trials which may not be converted into blessings. All depends on the manner in which we profit by them or otherwise. Perfect happi- ness is not to be looked for in this world. If it could be secured, it would be found profitless. The hoUowest of all gospels is the gospel of ease and comfort. Difficulty, and even failure, are far better teachers. Sir Humphry Davy said : " Even in private life, too much prosperity either injures the moral man, and occasions conduct which ends in suffering, or it is accompanied by the workings of envy, calumny, and malevolence of others." A Poor Arabian Woman. Failure improves tempers and strengthens the nature. Even sorrow is in some mys- terious way linked with joy and associated with tenderness. John Bunyan once said, " if it were lawful, he could even pray for greater trouble, for the greater comfort's sake." When surprise was expressed at the patience of a poor Arabian woman under heavy affliction, she said, "When we look on God's face we do not feel His hand." Suffering is doubtless as divinely appointed as joy, while it is much more influential as a discipline of character. It chastens and sweetens the nature, teaches patience and resignation, and promotes the deepest as well as the most exalted thought. "What is it," says Mr. Helps, "that pro- motes the most and the deepest thought in the human race? It is not learning; it is not the conduct of business ; it is not even the impulse of the affections. It is suffering; and that, perhaps, is the reason why there is so much suffering in the world. The angel 234 "no night so dark, no day so drear, but we may sing our song of cheer.'' .22 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. who went down to trouble the waters and to make them healing, was not, perhaps, intrusted with so great a boon as the angel who benevolently inflicted upon the sufferers the disease from which they suffered." "The best of men That e'er wore earth about Him was a sufferer ; A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit ; The first true gentleman that ever breathed." Suffering may be the appointed means by which the highest nature of man is to be disciplined and developed. Assuming hap- piness to be the end of being, sorrow may be the indispensable condition through which it is to be reached. Hence St. Paul's noble paradox descriptive of the Christian life — "As chastened, and not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich ; as having nothing, and yet pos- sessing all things." Pain Loses its Sting. Even pain is not all painful. On one side it is related to suffering, and on the other to happiness. For pain is remedial as well as sorrowful. Suffering is a misfortune as viewed from the one side, and a discipline as viewed from, the other. But for suffering, the best part of many men's nature would sleep a deep sleep. Indeed, it might almost be said that pain and sorrow were the indis- pensable conditions of some men's success, and the necessary means to evoke the high- est development of their genius. Shelley has said of poets : " Most wretched men are cradled into poetry by wrong, They learn in suffering what they teach in song. ' ' Does any one suppose that Burns would have sung as he did had he been rich, respectable and "kept a gig;" or Byron, if he had been a prosperous, happily-mar- ried Postmaster-General? Sometimes a heart-break rouses an impas- sive nature to life. " What does he know," said a sage, "who has not suffered?" When Dumas asked Reboul, "What made you a poet?" his answer was, "Suffering!" It was the death, first, of his wife, and then of his child, that drove him into solitude for the indulgence of his grief, and eventually led him to seek and find relief in verse. It was also to a domestic affliction that we owe the beautiful writings of Mrs. Gaskell. "It was as a recreation, in the highest sense of the word," says a recent writer, speaking from personal knowledge, " as an escape from the great void of a life from which a cherished presence had been taken, that she began that series of exquisite creations which has served to multiply the number of our acquaintances and to enlarge even the circle of our friendships." How the Best "Work is Done. Much of the best and most useful work done by men and women has been done amidst affliction — sometimes as a relief from it, sometimes from a sense of duty over- powering personal sorrow. " If I had not been so great an invalid," said Dr. Darwin to a friend, " I should not have done nearly so much work as I have been able to accom- plish." So Dr. Donne, speaking of his illnesses, once said : " The advantage you and my other friends have by my frequent fevers is, that I am so much the oftener at the gates of Heaven ; and by the solitude and close imprisonment they reduce me to, I am so much the oftener at my prayers, in which you and my other dear friends are not forgotten." Schiller produced his greatest tragedies in the midst of physical suffering almost amount- THE SCHOOL OF EVERYDAY LIFE. 123 ing to torture. Handel was never greater than when, warned by palsy of the approach of death, and struggling with distress and suffering, he sat down to compose the great works which have made his name immortal in music. Mozart composed his great operas, and last of all his " Requiem," when oppressed by debt, and struggling with a fatal disease. Beethoven produced his greatest works amidst gloomy sorrow, when oppressed by almost total deafness. Heroism in Suffering. And poor Schubert, after his short but brilliant life, laid it down at the early age of thirty -two ; his sole property at his death consisting of his manuscripts, the clothes he wore, and twenty-two dollars in money. Some of Charles Lamb's finest writings were produced amidst deep sorrow; and Hood's apparent gayety often sprang from a suffer- ing heart. As he himself wrote, " There's not a string attuned to mirth, But has its chord in melancholy." Again, in science, we have the noble instance of the suffering Wollaston, even in the last stages of the mortal disease which afflicted him, devoting his numbered hours to putting on record, by dictation, the various discoveries and improvements he had made, so that any knowledge he had acquired cal- culated to benefit his fellow-creatures might not be lost. One of the finest examples of heroism and patience under suffering was afforded by General Grant during his protracted illness. Fatal disease had attacked him and death had clutched him by the throat, yet for weary months he labored incessantly to com- plete his Memoirs that he might have a legacy to leave to his family. Happily it proved to be a fortune, but the merit of the work, its historical value and addition to our war literature, are not so remarkable as the patient perseverance that produced it while the last darkness was shadowing the eyes of the great commander. The heroism he dis- played in his painful sickness dwarfed any he showed on the field of battle, and put the crown upon his remarkable career. Afflictions often prove but blessings in dis- guise. " Fear not the darkness," said the Persian sage; it "conceals perhaps the springs of the waters of life." Experience is often bitter, but wholesome ; only by its teaching can we learn to suffer and be strong. Character, in its highest forms, is disciplined by trial, and " made perfect through suffer- ing." Even from the deepest sorrow the patient and thoughtful mind will gather richer wisdom than pleasure ever yielded. "The soul's dark cottage, battered and decaj'ed, Lets in new light through chinks that time has made." We are Pupils in School. "Consider," said Jeremy Taylor, "that sad accidents and a state of afflictions is a school of virtue. It reduces our spirits to sober- ness, and our counsels to moderation; it corrects levity, and interrupts the confidence of sinning. God, who in mercy and wisdom governs the world, would never have suffered so many sadnesses, and have sent them, especially, to the most virtuous and the wisest men, but that He intends they should be the seminary of comfort, the nursery of virtue, the exercise of wisdom, the trial of patience, the venturing for a crown, and the gate of glory." And again: "No man is more miserable than he that hath no adversity. That man is not tried, whether he be good or bad; and God never crowns those virtues which are only faculties and dispositions; but every 124 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. act of virtue is an ingredient unto reward." Prosperity and success of themselves do not confer happiness; indeed, it not unfre- ■quently happens that the least successful in life have the greatest share of true joy in it. No man could have been more successful than Goethe — possessed of splendid health, honor, power and sufficiency of this world's ■goods — and yet he confessed that he had not, in the course of his life, enjoyed five Aveeks of genuine pleasure. So the Caliph Abdalrahman, in surveying his successful reign of fifty years, found that he had enjoyed only fourteen days of pure and genuine happiness. After this, might it not be said that the pursuit of mere happiness is an illusion? "Whining is of no Use. Life, all sunshine without shade, all happi- ness without sorrow, all pleasure without pain, were not life at all — at least not human life. Take the lot of the happiest — it is a tangled yarn. It is made up of sorrows and joys; and the joys are all the sweeter because of the sorrows; bereavements and blessings, one following another, making us sad and blessed by turns. Even death itself makes life more loving; it binds us more ■closely together while here. Dr. Thomas Browne has argued that •death is one of the necessary conditions -of human happiness, and he supports his .argument with great force and eloquence. But when death comes into a household, we ■do not philosophize — we only feel. The eyes that are full of tears do not see; though in course of time they come to see more clearly and brightly than those that have never known sorrow. The wise person gradually learns not to expect too much from life. While he strives for success by worthy methods, he will be prepared for failures. He will keep his mind open to enjoyment, but submit pa- tiently to suffering. Wailings and com- plainings of life are never of any use; only cheerful and continuous working in right paths are of real avail. All in Need of Charity. Nor will the wise man expect too much from those about him. If he would live at peace with others, he will bear and forbear. And even the best have often foibles of character which have to be endured, sympa- thized with, and perhaps pitied. Who is perfect? Who does not suffer from some thorn in the flesh? Who does not stand in need of toleration, of forbearance, of for- giveness? What the poor imprisoned Queen Caroline Matilda, of Denmark, wrote on her chapel-window ought to be the prayer of all — "Oh! keep me innocent! make others great." Then, how much does the disposition of every human being depend upon their innate constitution and their early surroundings; the comfort or discomfort of the homes in which they have been brought up; their inherited characteristics and the examples, good or bad, to which they have been ex- posed through life ! Regard for such con- siderations should teach charity and forbear- ance to all men. At the same time, life will always be to a large extent what we ourselves make it. Each mind makes its own little world. The cheerful mind makes it pleasant, and the dis- contented mind makes it miserable. " My mind to me a kingdom is," applies alike to the peasant as to the monarch. The one may be in his heart a king, as the other may be a slave. Life is for the most part but the mirror of our own individual selves. Our mind gives to all situations, to all THE SCHOOL OF EVERYDAY LIFE. 125 fortunes, high or low, their real characters. To the good, the world is good; to the bad, it is bad. If our views of life be elevated — if we regard it as a sphere of useful effort, of high living and high thinking, of working for others' good as well as our own — it will be joyful, hopeful and blessed. If, on the contrary, we regard it merely as affording opportunities for self-seeking, pleasure and aggrandizement, it will be full of toil, anxiety and disappointment. There is much in life that, while in this state, we can never comprehend. There is, indeed, a great deal of mystery in life — much that we see "as in a glass darkly." But though we may not apprehend the full meaning of the discipline of trial through which the best have to pass, we must have faith in the completeness of the design of which our little individual lives form a part. We have each to do our duty in that sphere of life in which we have been placed. Duty alone is true; there is no true action but in its accomplishment. Duty is the end and aim of the highest life; the truest pleas- ure of all is that derived from the conscious- ness of its fulfillment. Of all others, it is- the one that is most thoroughly satisfying, and the least accompanied by regret and disappointment. In the words of George Herbert, the consciousness of duty per- formed "gives us music at midnight." And when we have done our work on earth — of necessity, of labor, of love, or of duty-^like the silk-worm that spins its little cocoon and dies, we too depart. But, short though our stay in life may be, it is the appointed sphere in which each has to work out the great aim and end of his being to' the best of his power; and when that is- done, the accidents of the flesh will affect but little the immortality we shall at last put on. THE BRIGHT DAY WILL DAWN. What though before me it is dark, Too dark for me to see ? I ask but light for one step more ; 'Tis quite enough for me. Each little, humble step I take, The gloom clears from the next ; So, though 'tis very dark beyond, I never am perplexed. And if sometimes the mist hangs close. So close I fear to stray, Patient I wait a little while. And soon it clears away.. I would not see my further path, For mercy veils it so ; My present steps might harder be Did I the future know. It may be that my path is rough. Thorny, and hard, and steep ; And knowing this, my strength might fail Through fear and terror deep. It may be that it winds along A smooth and flowery way ; But seeing this I might despise The journey of to-day. Perhaps my path is very short, My journey nearly done, And I might tremble at the thought Of ending it so soon. Or, if I saw a weary length Of road that I must wend, Fainting, I'd think, "My feeble powers Will fail me ere the end." And so I do not wish to see My journey or its length ; Assured that, through my Father's love, Each step will bring its strength. Thus step by step I onward go, Kot looking far before ; Trusting that I shall always have Light for just ' ' one step more." THE PATH OF DUTY, 126 CHAPTER VII. THE PATH OF DUTY. O not turn away from this plain, old-fashioned word "duty." It is one of the grandest words in the English lan- guage. "England expects every man to do his duty," was what Lord Nelson sig- naled to all the battle-ships of his fleet at the beginning of the battle of Trafalgar. May war cease, but if there must be war, " duty " is the watchword that is rivalled only by courage. Nelson lost his life in that battle, but " duty " won the victory. Duty embraces our whole existence. It begins in the home, where there is the duty which children owe to their parents on the ■one hand, and the duty which parents owe to their children on the other. There are, in like manner, the respective duties of hus- bands and wives, of masters and servants ; while outside the home there are the duties which men and women owe to each other as friends and neighbors, as employers and employed, as governors and governed. " Render, therefore," says St. Paul, " to .all their dues : tribute to whom tribute is due ; custom to whom custom ; fear to whom fear ; honor to whom honor. Owe no man anything, but to love one another ; for he that loveth another hath fulfilled the law." Thus duty rounds the whole of life, from our entrance into it until our exit from it — duty to superiors, duty to inferiors, and duty to equals — duty to man, and duty to God. Wherever there is power to use or to direct, "there is duty. For we are but as stewards. appointed to employ the means intrusted tc us for our own and for others' good. The abiding sense of duty is the very crown of character. It is the upholding law of man in his highest attitudes. Without it, the individual totters and falls before the first puff of adversity or temptation ; whereas, inspired by it, the weakest becomes strong and full of courage. "Duty," says Mrs. Jameson, " is the cement which binds the whole moral edifice together ; without which, all power, goodness, intellect, truth, happi- ness, love itself, can have no permanence; but all the fabric of existence crumbles away from under us, and leaves us at last sitting in the midst of a ruin, astonished at our own desolation." How Duty Shows Itself. Duty is based upon a sense of justice — justice inspired by love, which is the most perfect form of goodness. Duty is not a sentiment, but a principle pervading the life : and it exhibits itself in conduct and in acts, which are mainly determined by man's con- science and freewill. The voice of conscience speaks in duty done ; and without its regulating and con- trolling influence, the brightest and greatest intellect may be merely as a light that leads astray. Conscience sets a man upon his feet, while his will holds him upright. Con- science is the moral governor of the heart — - the governor of right action, of right thought, of right faith, of right life — and only through its dominating influence can the noble and 127 128 THE PATH OF DUTY. upright character be fully developed and made to shine upon others. The conscience, however, may speak never so loudly, but without energetic will it may speak in vain. The will is free to choose between the right course and the wrong one, but the choice is nothing unless followed by immediate and decisive action. If the sense of duty be strong, and the course of action clear, the courageous will, upheld by the conscience, enables a man to proceed on his course bravely, and to accomplish his pur- poses in the face of all opposition and diffi- culty. And should failure be the issue, there will remain at least this satisfaction, that it has been in the cause of duty. Daily Duty. Each day its duty brings. The vindone task Of yesterday cannot be now fulfdled Without some current work's displacement. "Time And tide will wait for none." Then let us act So that they need not wait, and keep abreast With them by the discharge of each day's claim ; For each new dawn, like a prolific tree, Blossoms with blessings and with duties which So interwoven grow that he who shirks The latter, fails the first. You cannot pick The dainty and refuse the task. To win The smile of Him who did His Father's will In the great work assigned Him, while 'twas day. With love self-sacrificing, His high course We must with prayerful footsteps imitate ; And, knowing not what one day may bring forth, Live so that Death, come when he may, shall find Us not defaulters in arrears with Time, Mourning, like Titus, " I have lost a day ! " But busily engaged on something which Shall cast a blessing on the world, rebound With one to our own breasts, and tend to give To man some benefit, to God some praise. " Be and continue poor, young man," said Heinzelman;-;, "while others around you grow rich by fraud and disloyalty; be with- out place or power, while others beg their way upward ; bear the pain of disappointed hopes, while others gain the accomplish- ment of theirs by flattery ; forego the gracious pressure of the hand, for which, others cringe and crawl. Wrap yourself in your own virtue, and seek a friend and your daily bread. If you have in your own cause grown gray with unbleached honor, bless God and die ! " St. Paul, inspired by duty and faith, declared himself as not only " ready to be bound, but to die at Jerusalem."' "Remember Your Honor." When the Marquis of Pescara was entreated by the princes of Italy to desert the Spanish cause, to which he was in honor bound, his noble wife, Vittoria Colonna,. reminded him of his duty. She wrote to- him : " Remember your honor, which raises you above fortune and above kings ; by that alone, and not by the splendor of titles, is glory acquired — that glory which it will be your happiness and pride to transmit unspotted to your posterity." Such was the dignified view which she took of her hus- band's honor ; and when he fell at Pavia, though young and beautiful, and besought by many admirers, she betook herself to soli- tude, that she might lament over her husband's loss and celebrate his exploits. To live really is to act energetically. Life is a battle to be fought valiantly. Inspired by high and honorable resolve, a man must stand to his post, and die there, if need be. Like the old Danish hero, his determination should be, "to dare nobly, to will strongly, and never to falter in the path of duty." The power of will, be it great or small, which. God has given us, is a divine gift; and we ought neither to let it perish for want of using, on the one hand, nor profane it by employing it for ignoble purposes, on the other. Robertson, of Brighton, has truly said, that man's real greatness consists not in seeking his own pleasure, or fame, or THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 129 advancement — " not that every one shall save his own life, not that every man shall seek his own glory — but that every man shall do his own duty." Duty in the Face of Danger. Old Ironsides at anchor lay- In the harbor of Mahon ; A dead calm rested on the bay, The waves to sleep had gone ; When little Hal, the Captain's son, A lad both brave and good, In sport, up shroud and rigging ran, And on the main truck stood ! A shudder shot through every vein. All eyes were turned on high ! There stood the boy, with dizzy brain, Between the sea and sky ; Nor hold had he above, below : Alone he stood in air ; To that far height none dared to go. No aid could reach him there. We gazed, but not a man could speak ; With horror all aghast. In groups, with pallid brow and cheek, We watched the quivering mast. The atmosphere grew thick and hot, And of a lurid hue. As riveted unto the spot. Stood officers and crew. The father came on deck ; he gasped, " O God ! Thy will be done ! " Then suddenly a rifle grasped. And aimed it at his son. "Jump, far out, boy, into the wave ! Jump, or I fire," he said ; 'That only chance your life can save ; Jump, jump, my boy ! " He obeyed. He sank, — he rose, — he lived, — he moved, — And for the ship struck out. On board we hailed the lad beloved, With many a manly shout. His father drew, in silent joy, Those wet arms round his neck, And folded to his heart his boy. Then faulted on the deck. George; P. Morris. The sense of duty is a sustaining power even to a courageous man. It holds him upright, I and makes him strong. It was a noble saying of Pompey, when his friends tried to dissuade him from embarking for Rome in a storm, telling him that he did so at the great peril of his life: " It is necessary for me to go," he said ; " it is not necessary for me to live." What it was right that he should do, he would do, in the face of danger and in defiance of storms. Did Not Count the Cost. As might be expected of the great Wash- ington, the chief motive power in his life was the spirit of duty. It was the regal and commanding element in his character which gave it unity, compactness, and vigor. When he clearly saw his duty before him, he did it at all hazards, and with inflexible integrity. He did not do it for effect ; nor did he think of glory, or of fame and its rewards ; but of the right thing to be done, and the best way of doing it. Yet Washington had a most modest opin- ion of himself; and when offered the chief command of the American patriot army, he hesitated to accept it until it was pressed upon him. When ackno'.vledging in Con- gress the honor i^'hlcli had been done him in selecting hini to so important a trust, on the execution of which the future of his country in a great measure depended, Washington said : " I beg it may be remembered, lest some unlucky event should happen unfavor- able to my reputation, that I this day declare, with the utmost sincerity, I do not think myself equal to the command I am honored with." And in his letter to his wife, communicating to her his appointment as commander-in- chief, he said : " I have used every endeavor in my power to avoid it, not only from my unwillingness to part with you and the family, but from a consciousness of its being I 130 THE PATH OF DUTY. a trust too great for my capacity ; and that I should enjoy more real happiness in one month with you at home than I have the most distant prospect of finding abroad, if my stay were to be seven times seven years. But, as it has been a kind of destiny thathas thrown me upon this service, I shall hope that my undertaking it is designed for some good purpose. It was utterly out of my power to refuse the appointment, without exposing my character to such censures as would have reflected dishonor upon myself, and given pain to my friends. This, I am sure, could not, and ought not, to be pleasing to you, and must have lessened me consider- ably in my own esteem." A Noble Resolve. Washington pursued his upright course through life, first as commander-in-chief, and afterwards as president, never faltering in the path of duty. He had no regard for popu- larity, but held to his purpose through good and through evil report, often at the risk of his power and influence. Thus, on one occasion, when the ratifica- tion of a treaty, arranged by Mr. Jay with Great Britain, was in question, Washington was urged to reject it. But his honor, and the honor of his country, was committed, and he refused to do so. A great outcry was raised against the treaty, and for a time Washington was so unpopular that he is said to have been actually stoned by the mob. But he, nevertheless, held it to be his duty to ratify the treaty ; and it was carried out in despite of petitions and remonstrances from all quarters. " While I feel," he said, in answer to the remonstrants, " the most lively gratitude for the many instances of approbation from my country, I can no otherwise deserve it than by obeying the dictates of my conscience." Wellington's watch-word, like Washing- ton's, was duty ; and no man could be more loyal to it than he was. Wellington, like Washington, had to pay the penalty of his adherence to the cause he thought right, in his loss of "popularity." He was mobbed in the streets of London, and had his win- dows smashed by the mob, while his wife lay dead in the house. " There is little or noth- ing," he once said, "in this life worth living for ; but we can all of us go straight forward and do our duty." Faithful Service. None recognized more cheerfully than he did the duty of obedience and willing service ;, for unless men can serve faithfully, they will not rule others wisely. There is no mottO' that becomes the wise man better than Ick dien, " I serve; " and "They also serve who only stand and wait." When the mortification of an officer,, because of his being appointed to a command inferior to what he considered to be his merits, was communicated to the duke, he- said : " In the course of my military career, I have gone from the command of a brigade to that of my regiment, and from the com- mand of an army to that of a brigade or a division, as I was ordered, and without any feeling of mortification." While commanding the allied army in Portugal, the conduct of the native popula- tion did not seem to Wellington to be either becoming or dutiful. " We have enthusiasm in plenty," he said, "and plenty of cries of ' Viva / ' We have illuminations, patriotic songs, and fc/cs everywhere. But what we want is, that each in his own station should do his duty faithfully, and pay implicit obedi- ence to legal authority." This abiding ideal of duty seemed to be the governing principle of Wellington's char- THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 131 acter. It was always uppermost in his mind, and directed all the public actions of his life. Nor did it fail to communicate itself to those under him, who served him in the like spirit. When he rode into one of his infantry squares at Waterloo, as its diminished numbers closed up to receive a charge of French cavalry, he said to the men, "Stand steady, lads; think of what they will say of us in England ; " to which the men replied, " Never fear, sir — we know our duty." Sensible Advice. Nelson's companion and friend — the brave, sensible, homely-minded Collingwood — he who, as his ship bore down into the great sea-fight, said to his flag-captain, "Just about this time our wives are going to church in England " — Collingwood too was, like his commander, an ardent devotee of duty. " Do your duty to the best of your ability," was the maxim which he urged upon many young men starting on the voyage of life. To a midshipman he once gave the following manly and sensible advice : " You may depend upon it, that it is more in your own power than in anybody else's to promote both your comfort and advance- ment. A strict and unwearied attention to your duty, and a complacent and respectful behavior, not only to your superiors but to everybody, will insure you their regard, and the reward will surely come ; but if it should not, I am convinced you have too much good sense to let disappointment sour you. " Guard carefully against letting discontent appear in you. It will be sorrow to your friends, a triumph to your competitors, and cannot be productive of any good. Conduct yourself so as to deserve the best that can come to you, and the consciousness of your own proper behavior will keep you in spirits if it should not come. Let it be your ambi- tion to be foremost in all duty. Do not be a nice observer of turns, but ever present yourself ready for everj^thing, and, unless your officers are very inattentive men, they will not allow others to impose more duty on you than they should." Man does not live for himself alone. He lives for the good of others as well as of himself. Every one has his duties to per- form — the richest as well as the poorest. To some life is pleasure, to others suffering. But the best do not live for self-enjoyment, or even for fame. Their strongest motive power is hopeful, useful work in every good cause. Hierocles says that each one of us is a centre, circumscribed by many concentric circles. From ourselves the first circle extends — comprising parents, wife, and child- ren. The next concentring circle comprises relations ; then fellow-citizens ; and lastly, the whole human race. The Sentinel Dead at His Post. The sphere of duty is infinite. It exists in every station of life. We have it not in our choice to be rich or poor, to be happy or unhappy; but it becomes us to do the duty that everywhere surrounds us. Obedi- ence to duty, at all costs and risks, is the very essence of the highest civilized life. Great deeds must be worked for, hoped for, died for, now as in the past. We often connect the idea of duty with the soldier's trust. We remember the pagan sentinel at Pompeii, found dead at his post, during the burial of the city by the ashes of Vesuvius, some eighteen hundred years ago. This was the true soldier. While others fled, he stood to his post. It was his duty. He had been set to guard the place, and he never flinched. He was suffocated by the sulphurous vapor of the falling ashes. His i 132 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 132 body was resolved to dust, but his memory survives. His helmet, lance and breastplate are still to be seen in a museum at Naples. This soldier was obedient and disciplined. He did what he was appointed to do. Obedience, to the parent, to the master, to the officer, is what every one who would do right should be taught to learn. Childhood should begin with obedience. Yet age does not absolve us. We must be obedient even to the end. Duty, in its purest form, is so constraining that one never thinks, in per- forming it, of one's self at all. It is there. It has to be done without any thought of self-sacrifice. Sinking of a Naval Ship. To come to a much later date than that of the Roman soldier at Pompeii. When the naval ship Birkenhead went down off the coast of Africa, with her brave soldiers on board firing guns in token of joy as they sank beneath the Avaves, the Duke of Wellington, after the new? arrived in England, was enter- tained at the B-anquet of the Royal Academy. Macaulay says : " I remarked (and Mr. Law- rence, the AmiTican Minister, remarked the same thing) th;it in his eulogy of the poor fellows who we*-e lost, the Duke never spoke of their couraj'^e, but always of their disci- pline and subordination. He repeated it several times o''er. The courage, I suppose, he treated a.« a matter of course." Duty is se.T-devoted. It is not merely fearlessness. The gladiator who fought the lion with the ^ourage of a lion was urged on by the ardo" of the spectators, and never forgot hims'^lf and his prizes. Pizarro was full of hardihood. But he -was actuated by his love of ^old in the midst of his terrible hardships. "Do yc-u wish to be great?" asks St. Avf7■""-^•-'^. "Then begin by being little. Do you desire to construct a vast and lofty fabric ? Think first about the foundations of humility. The higher your structure is to be, the deeper must be its foundation. Modest humility is beauty's crown." The best kind of duty is done in secret,, and without sight of men. There it does its work devotedly and nobly. It does not follow the routine of worldly wise morality. It does not advertise itself It adopts a larger creed and a loftier code, which to be subject to and to obey is to consider every human life, and every human action, in the light of an eternal obligation to the race. Our evil or our careless actions incur debts every day, that humanity, sooner or later, must discharge. Many duties are performed privately. Our public life may be well known, but in private there is that which no one sees — the inner life of the soul and spirit. We have it in our choice to be worthy or worthless. No' one can kill our soul, which can perish only by its own suicide. If we can only make ourselves and each other a little better, holier, and nobler, we have perhaps done the most that we could. Davenport, of Stamford. Here is the manner in which one of our American legislators stood to his post : An eclipse of the sun happened in New England about a century ago. The heavens became very dark, and it seemed to many that the day of judgment was at hand. The Legislature of Connecticut happened then to be in session, and on the darkness coming on, a member moved the adjournment of the House, on which an old Puritan legislator, Davenport, of Stamford, rose up and said that if the last day had come, he desired to be found in his place and doing his duty ; for which reasons he moved that candles 134 THE PATH OF DUTY. should be brought, so that the House might proceed with its business. Waiting at the post of duty was the maxim of the wise man, and he carried his motion. There was a man of dehcate constitution, who devoted a great deal of his time to philanthropic work. He visited the sick, he sat by them in their miserable homes, he nursed them and helped them in all ways. He was expostulated with by his friends for neglecting his business, and threatened with the illness he was sure to contract by visit- ing the fevered and the dying. He replied to his friends with firmness and simplicity, " I look after my business for the sake of my wife and my children, but I hold that a man's duty to society requires him to have a •care for those who are not of his own house- hold." These were the words of a willing servant to duty. It is not the man who gives his money that is the true benefactor of his kind, but the man who gives himself. The man who gives his money is advertised ; the man who gives his time, strength, and soul, is beloved. The one may be remembered, •while the other may be forgotten, though the good influence he has sown will never die. The Golden Rule. There is a sentence in the Evangelists •which comes back to us without ceasing, and which ought to be written on every page of a book of morality — " Do unto others as ye would that they should do unto you." " In life," says Wilhelm von Humboldt, "it is worthy of special remark, that when we are not too anxious about happiness and unhap- piness, but devote ourselves to the strict and unsparing performance of duty, then happi- ness comes of itself — nay, even springs from the midst of a life of troubles and anxie- ties and privations," " What is your duty ? " asks Goethe. " The carrying out of the affairs of the day that lies before you." But this is too narrow a view of duty. "What again," he asks, "is the best government ? That which teaches us to govern ourselves." Plutarch said to the Emperor Trajan, " let your government commence in your own breast, and lay the foundation of it in the command of your own passions." Here come in the words self-control, duty, and conscience. " There will come a time," said Bishop Hooker, when three words, uttered with charity and meekness, shall receive a far more blessed reward than three thousand volumes written with the disdainful sharpness of wit." Deeds of Love. It is well for the soul to look on actions done for love, not for selfish objects, but for duty, mercy, and loving-kindness. There are many things done for love which are a thousand times better than those done for money. The former inspire the spirit of heroism and self-devotion. The latter die with the giving. Duty that is bought is worth little. " I consider," said Dr. Arnold, "beyond all wealth, honor, or even health, is the attachment due to noble souls ; be- cause to become one with the good, gen- erous, and true, is to be in a manner good, generous, and true yourself." Every man has a service to do, to himself as an individual, and to those who are near him. In fact, life is of little value unless it be consecrated by duty. " Show those quali- ties, then," said Marcus Aurelis Antoninus, " which are altogether in thy power — sincerity, gravity, endurance of labor, aver- sion to pleasure, contentment with thy por- tion, and with few things, benevolence, frank- ness, and magnanimity." The greatest intellectual power may exist THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 135 ■without a particle of magnanimity. The latter comes from the highest power in man's mind — conscience, and from the highest faculty, reason, and capacity for faith — that by which man is capable of apprehending more than the senses supply. It is this which makes man a reasonable creature — more than a mere animal. Mr. Darwin has truly said, " that the motives of conscience, as connected with repentance and the feelings of duty, are the most important differences which separate man from the animal." Doctor Parr's Answer. We are invited to believe in the all power- ful potentcy of matter. We are to believe only in what we can see with our eyes and touch with our hands. We are to believe in nothing that we do not under- stand. But how very little do we abso- lutely know and understand ! We see only the surfaces of things, " as in a glass darkly." How can matter help us to under- stand the mysteries of life? We know absolutely nothing about the causes of voli- tion, sensation, and mental action. We know that they exist, but we cannot under- stand them. When a young man declared to Dr. Parr that he would believe nothing he did not understand, " Then, sir," said the doctor, " your creed would be the shortest of any man whom I ever knew." We must believe a thousand things that we do not understand. Matter and its com- binations are as great a mystery as life is. Look at those numberless far-off worlds majestically wheeling in their appointed orbits ; or at this earth on which we live, performing its diurnal motion on its own axis, during its annual circle round the sun. What do we understand about the causes of such motions ? What can we ever know about them beyond the fact that such things are? " The circuit of the sun in the heavens," says Pascal, "vast as it is, is itself only a delicate point when compared with the vaster circuit that is accomplished by the stars. Beyond the range of sight, this universe is but a spot in the ample bosom of nature. We can only imagine of atoms as compared with the reality, which is an infinite sphere, of which the centre is everywhere, the cir- cumference nowhere. What is man in the midst of this infinite? " But there is another prospect not less astounding ; it is the Infinite beneath him. Let him look to the smallest of the things which come under his notice — a mite. It has limbs, veins, blood circulating in them, globules in that blood, humors and serum. Within the inclosure of this atom I will show you not merely the visible universe, but the very immensity of nature. Whoever gives his mind to thoughts such as this will be terrified at himself — trembling where nature has placed him — suspended, as it were, between infinity and nothingness. The Author of these wonders comprehends them ; none but he can do so." Song of Nature. The harp at nature's advent strung Has never ceased to play ; The song the stars of morning sung Has never died away. And prayer is made, and praise is given, By all things near and far : The ocean looketh up to heaven, And mirrors every star. Its waves are kneeling on the strand, As kneels the human knee, Their white locks bowing to the sand, The priesthood of the sea ! They pour their glittering treasures forth, Their gifts ol pearl they bring, 133 THE PATH OF DUTY. And all the listening hills of earth Take up the song they sing. The green earth sends her incense up From many a mountain shrine ; From folded leaf and dewy cup She pours her sacred wine. The mists above the morning rills Rise white as wings of prayer ; The altar curtains of the hills Are sunset's purple air. The winds with hymns of praise are loud, Or low with sobs of pain, The thunder-organ of the cloud, The dropping tears of rain. With drooping head and branches crossed, The twilight forest grieves. Or speaks with tongues of Pentecost From all its sunlit leaves. The blue sky is the temple's arch, Its transept earth and air. The music of its starry march. The chorus of a prayer. So nature keep's the reverent frame With which her years began. And all her signs and voices shame The prayerless heart of man. J. G. Whittier. A Tongue in Every Leaf. There is a solemn hymn goes up From nature to the lyord above ; And offerings from her incense cup Are poured in gratitude and love ; And from each flower that lifts its eye In modest silence in the shade, To the strong woods that kiss the sky, A thankful song of praise is made. There is no solitude on earth, " In every leaf there is a tongue," In every glen the voice of mirth, From every hill a hymn is sung. And every wild and hidden dell, Where human footsteps never trod. Is wafting songs of joy which tell The praises of their Maker — God. Each mountain gives an altar birth. And has a shrine to worship given ; Each breeze that rises from the earth Is loaded with a song of heaven ; Each wave that leaps along the main Sends solemn music on the air ; And winds that swept o'er ocean's plain Bear off their voice of grateful prayer. All the laws of nature are dutiful ; they obey the command of their great Author. Here is the pattern for man. We cannot do just what we please to do unless we please to do the right. The highest aim of multi- tudes of persons is to have a " good time " regardless of consequences. The end is sel- fish and the life is mean and wicked. No man acting on this principle ever made the world any better. He has his " good time " for a little while, passes out of sight, and is remembered only as a failure, dead wood to which the world says " good riddance." "What the Chinese Sage Taught. Confucius taught his disciples to believe that conduct is three-fourths of life. " Ponder righteousness, and practice virtue. Knowl- edge, magnanimity, and energy, are univer- sally binding. Gravity, generosity of soul, sincerity, earnestness, and kindness, consti- tute perfect virtue." These words come to us as the far-off echo of the great teacher of ten thousand ages, as his disciples called him — the holy and prescient Chinese sage Con- fucius. But all these virtues come from the innate monitor conscience. From this first principle all rules of behavior are drawn. It bids us do what we call right, and forbids us doing what we call wrong. At its fullest growth, it bids us do what makes others happy, and forbids us doing what makes others unhappy. The great lesson to be learned is, that man must strengthen himself to perform his duty and do what is right, seeking his happiness and inward peace in objects that cannot be THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 137 taken away from him. Conscience is the helper by which we get the mastery over our own failings. It is a silent working of the inner man, by which he proves his pe- culiar power of the will and spirit of God. We have also something to learn from the noble old Greeks as to the virtue of duty. Socrates is considered by some as the founder of Greek philosophy. It was his belief that he was specially charged by the Deity to awaken moral conscience in men. He was born at Athens 468 years before Christ. He received the best education which an Athenian could obtain. He first learned sculpture, in which he acquired some repu- tation. He then served his country as a soldier, according to the duty of all Athenian citizens. The oath which he took, in com- mon with all other youths, was as follows : "I will not disgrace the sacred arms intrusted to me by my country ; nor will I desert the place committed to me to defend." The Highest Prize of Valor. He displayed much fortitude and valor in all the expeditions in which he was engaged. In one of the engagements which took place before Potidasa, Alcibiades fell wounded in the midst of the enemy. Socrates rushed forward to rescue him, and carried him back, together with his arms. For this gallant performance he was awarded the civic crown as the highest prize of valor. His second campaign was no less honorable. At the disastrous battle of Delium he saved the life of Xenophon, whom he carried from the field on his shoulder, fighting his way as he went. He served in another campaign, after which he devoted himself for a time to the civil service of his country. He was as brave as a senator as he had been as a soldier. He possessed that high moral courage which can brave not only death but adverse opinion. He could defy a tyrant, as well as a tyrannical mob. When the admirals were tried after the battle of Arginusse, for not having rescued the bodies of the slain, Socrates stood alone in defend- ing them. The mob were furious. He was dismissed from the Council, and the admirals were condemned. Taught Obedience to Duty. Socrates then devoted himself to teaching. He stood in the market-places, entered the workshops, and visited the schools, in order to teach the people his ideas respecting the scope and value of 'human speculation and action. He appeared during a time of utter scepticism. He endeavored to withdraw men from their metaphysical speculation about nature, which had led them into the inextricable confusion of doubt. " Is life worth living?" was a matter of as much speculation in these days as it is in ours. Socrates bade them look inward. While men were propitiating the gods, he insisted upon moral conduct as alone guiding man to happiness here and hereafter. Socrates went about teaching. Wise men and pupils followed him. Aristippus offered him a large sum of money, but the offer was at once declined. Socrates did not teach for money, but to propagate wisdom. He declared that the highest reward he could enjoy was to see mankind benefiting by his labors. He did not expound from books ; he merely argued. " Books," he said, cannot be interrogated, cannot answer, therefore they cannot teach. We can only learn from them what we knew before." He endeavored to reduce things to their first elements, and to arrive at certainty as the only standard of truth. He believed in the unity of virtue, and averred that it was teachable as a matter THE BLIND MAN S DUTIFUL CHILD. 138 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 139 of science. He was of opinion that the only valuable philosophy is that which teaches us our moral duties and religious hopes. He hated injustice and folly of all kinds, and never lost an occasion of exposing them. He expressed his contempt for the capacity for goverment assumed by all men. He held that only the wise were fit to govern, and that they were the few. Condemned to Die. In his seventy -second year he was brought before the judges. The accusers stated their charge as follows : Socrates is an evil-doer, and corrupter of the youth ; he does not receive the gods whom the state receives, but introduces new divinities. He was tried on these grounds, and condemned to die. He was taken to his prison, and for thirty days he conversed with his friends on his favorite topics. Crito provided for him the means of escaping from prison, but he would not avail himself of the opportunity. He conversed about the immortality of the soul, about courage and virtue and temperance, about absolute beauty and absolute good, and about his wife and children. He consoled his weeping friends, and gently upraided them for their complaints about the injustice of his sentence. He was about to die. Why should they complain ? He was far advanced in years. Had they waited a short time, the thing would have happened in the course of nature. No man ever welcomed death as a new birth to a higher state of being with greater faith. The time at length came when the jailer pre- sented him with the cup of hemlock. He drank it with courage, and died in complete calmness. " Such was the end," said Phaedo, " of our friend, whom I may truly call the wisest and justest and best of all the men whom I have ever known." After ages have cherished the memory of his virtues and of his fate, but without profit- ing much by his example, and without learn- ing tolerance from his stoiy. His name has become a moral thesis for school-boys and rhetoricians. Would that it could become a moral influence 1 The New Testament gives a glorified ideal of a possible human life; but hard are his labors who endeavors to keep that ideal uppermost in his mind. We feel that there is something else that we would like to do, much better than the thing that is incum- bent upon us. But duty is there, and it must be done, without dreaming or idling. How much of the philosophy of moral health and happiness is involved in the injunction, " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might." He that does his best, whatever his lot may be, is on the sure road to advancement. No Right to be Useless. It is related of one, who in the depths of his despair cried, " It is of no use to be good, for you cannot be good, and if you were, it would do you no good." It is hopeless, truthless and faithless, thus to speak of the goodness of word and work. Each one of us can do a little good in our own sphere of life. If we can do it, we are bound to do it. We have no more right to render ourselves useless than to destroy ourselves. We have to be faithful in small things as well as in great. We are required to make as good a use of our one talent as of the many talents that have been conferred upon others. We can follow the dictates of our con- science, and walk, though alone, in the paths of duty. We can be honest, truthful, dili- gent, were it only out of respect for one's self. We have to be faithful even to the end. Who is not struck with the answer of the b 140 THE PATH OF- DUTY. slave who, when asked by an intending pur- chaser, " Wilt thou be faithful if I buy thee?" "Yes," said the slave, "whether you buy me or not." Character is made up of small duties faithfully performed — of self-denials, of self- sacrifices, of kindly acts of love and duty. The backbone of character is laid at home ; and whether the constitutional tendencies be good or bad, home influences will as a rule fan them into activity. " He that is faithful in little is faithful in much ; and he that is unfaithful in little is unfaithful also in much." Kindness begets kindness, and truth and trust will bear a rich harvest of truth and trust. There are many little trivial acts of kindness which teach us more about a man's character than many vague phrases. These are easy to acquire, and their effects will last much longer than this very temporary life. Duty of Kindness. Be kind to each other ! The night's coming on, When friend and when brother Perchance may be gone ! Then 'midst our dejection How sweet to have earned The blest recollection Of kindness returned ! When day hath departed, And memory keeps Her watch, broken-hearted. Where all she loved sleeps ! het falsehood assail not, Nor envy disprove ; I/et trifles prevail not Against those ye love ! Nor change with to-morrow Should fortune take wing ; But the deeper the sorrow The closer still cling ! Oh, be kind to each other ! The night's coming on, When friend and when brother Perchance may be gone ! CharIvES Swain. No good thing is ever lost. Nothing dies, not even life, which gives up one form only to resume another. No good action, no good example, dies. It lives forever in our race. While the frame moulders and dis- appears, the deed leaves an indelible stamp, and moulds the very thought and will of future generations. Time is not the measure of a noble work ; the coming age will share our joy. A single virtuous action has elevated a whole village, a whole city, a whole nation. " The present moment," says Goethe, " is a powerful deity." Man's best products are his happy and sanctifying thoughts, which, when once formed and put in practice, extend their fertilizing influence for thousands of years, and from generation to generation. It is from small seeds dropped into the ground that the finest productions grow ; and it is from the inborn dictates of conscience and the inspired principle of duty that the finest growths of character have arisen. Struggling Upward. The sense of duty smooths our path through life. It helps us to know, to learn, and to obey. It gives us the power of over- coming difficulties, of resisting temptations, of doing that for which we strive ; of becom- ing honest, kind and true. All experience teaches us that we become that which we make ourselves. We strive against inclina- tions to do wrong, we strive for the inclina- tion to do right, and little by little we become that for which we strive. Every day's effort makes the struggle easier. We reap as we have sown. The true way to excel in any effort is to propose the brightest and most perfect example for imitation. We improve by the attempt, even though we fall short of the full perfection. Character will always ope^ THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. 141 rate. There may be little culture, slender abilities, no property, no position in "so- ciety;" yet, if there be a character of ster- ling excellence, it will command influence and secure respect. The edge of our facul- ties is seldom worn out by use, but it is very often rusted away by sloth. It is fervor and industry alone which give the beauty and the brightness to human life, and that life is noble which is actuated by a sense of duty. ODE TO DUTY. Stern Daughter of the Voice of God ! O Duty, if that name thou love, Who art a light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove ; Thou, who art victory and law When empty terrors overawe. From vain temptations dost set free, And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity I There are who ask not if thine eye Be on them ; who in love and truth. Where no misgiving is, rely Upon the genial sense of youth : Glad hearts ! without reproach or blot ; Who do thy work, and know it not : Oh ! if through confidence misplaced They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power ! around them cast. Serene will be our days and bright. And happy will our nature be. When love is an unerring light, And joy its own security. And they a blissful course may hold Even now, who, not unwisely bold, Live in the spirit of this creed ; Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need. I, loving freedom, and untried. No sport of every random gust. Yet being to myself a guide. Too blindly have reposed my trust : And oft, when in my heart was heard Thy timely mandate, I deferred The task, in smoother walks to stray ; But thee I now would serve more strictly if I may. Though no disturbance of my soul. Or strong compunction in me wrought, I supplicate for thy control ; But in the quietness of thought ; Me this unchartered freedom tires ; I feel the weight of chance desires : My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same. Stern Lawgiver ! yet thou dost wear The Godhead's most benignant grace ; Nor know we anything so fair As is the smile upon thy face : Flowers laugh before thee on their beds. And fragrance in thy footing treads ; Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong. And the most ancient heavens through thee are fresh and strong. To humbler functions, awful Power ! I call thee : I myself commend Unto thy guidance from this hour ; O let my weakness have an end ! Give unto me, made lowly wise. The spirit of self-sacrifice ; The confidence of reason give ; And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live f WmiAM Wordsworth. BE SURE YOU ARE RIGHT, THEN GO AHEAD. David Crockett. 142 CHAPTKR VIII. BE RIQHT, THEN (QO AHEAD. , YRUS Field said : " It has been a long and hard struggle to lay the Atlantic telegraph — nearly thirteen years of anxious watching and ceaseless toil. Often has my heart been ready to sink. I have sometimes almost accused myself of madness for sacrificing all my home comforts for what might, after all, prove a dream. I have seen my companions one after another fall by my side, and feared that I, too, might not live to see the end. I have often prayed that I might not taste of death till this work was accomplished. That prayer is now answered." A friend once said to President Lincoln : " Do you expect to end this war during your administration ? " Mr. Lincoln replied : " I do not know, sir." " But Mr. Lincoln, what do you mean to do?" "Peg away, sir ; peg away, keep pegging away!" Pegging away did it. " Be sure you're right, then go ahead," is U saying full of practical wisdom. If you ire wrong, better not go ahead ; if you are Hght, do not waste a moment in going ahead. Consider before you act, but having considered and made sure that you are on the right track, action is now a solemn duty. And what you know to be right is the only thing to be done. To do the wrong is to sow the wind ; if you sow the wind, you must reap the whirlwind. To do right has no risks about it ; you are on the safe side. There is no law in heaven or earth that sends a man to state- prison for doing right. The trouble is, many men who ought to be in state-prison are not there. This is their luck ; they have escaped, but it is still true that wrong-doing means dishonor, the criminal's cell and the hang- man's rope. Dare to do Right. Dare to do right ! dare to be true ! You have a work that no other can do ; Do it so bravely, so kindly, so well, Angels will hasten the story to tell. Dare to do right ! dare to be true ! Other men's failures can never save you. Stand by your conscience, your honor, your faitk^ Stand like a hero and battle till death. Dare to do right ! dare to be true ! Ivove may deny you its sunshine and dew. Ltt the dew fail, for then showers shall be given ; Dew is from earth, but the showers are from heaven. Dare Ic do right ! dare to be true ! God, who created you, cares for you too. Treasures the tears that his striving ones shed, Counts and protects every haii of your head. Dare to do right ! dare to be true ! Cannot Omnipotence carry you through ? City and mansion and throne all in sight. Can you not dare to be true and be right? Dare fo do right ! ctare to fee trtie f Keep the great judgment-seat always in view ; Look at your work as you'll look at it then, Scanned by Jehovah and angels and men. Dare to do right ! dare to be true ! Prayerfully, lovingly, firmly pursue The path by apostles and martyrs once trod, The path of the just to the city of God. George Lansing Tayi,or. 143 144 THE INFLUJiNCE OF HOME. I once heard a poor man say to a rich man, " I would not condescend to tell you a lie for all you are worth." The other replied, "No one expects you to tell a lie, and if money would buy falsehood, every cent I am worth might perish before I would give it for that purpose." In this conversation, heard incidentally, we get a glimpse of the true standard of living. Afraid of Lions. He who has well considered his duty will at once carry his convictions into action. Our acts are the only things that are in our power. They not only form the sum of our habits, but of our character. We can do right ; we are not only to think right and talk right ; this is not enough. Says Charles Kingsley : Do noble things, not dieam them, all day long. And so make life, death, and that vast forever, one grand, sweet song. At the same time, the course of duty is not always the easy course. It has many oppositions and difficulties to surmount. We may have the sagacity to see, but not the strength of purpose to do. To the irresolute there is many a lion in the way. He thinks and moralizes and dreams, but does nothing. "There is little to see," said a hard worker, " and little to do ; it is only to do it." The man whose first question, after a right course of action has presented itself, is "What will people say? " is not the man to do anything at all. But if he asks, " Is it my duty? " he can then proceed in his noble achievements, and be ready to incur men's censure, and even to brave their ridicule. "Let us have faith in fine actions," says a good writer, " and let us reserve doubt and incredulity for bad. It is even better to be deceived than to distrust." Duty is first learned at home. The child comes into the world helpless and dependent on others for its health, nurtuie, and moral and physical development. The child at length imbibes ideas ; under proper influences he learns to obey, to control himself, to be kind to others, to be dutiful and happy. He has a will of his own ; but whether it will be well or ill directed depends very much upon parental influences. You should have a strong will, and never so strong as in doing the right. When the true man, bent on good, holds by his pur- pose, he places but small value on the rewards or praises of the world ; his own approving conscience, and the "well done" which awaits him is his best reward. Alexander and Napoleon. Unless the direction of the character be right, the strong will may be merely a power for mischief In great tyrants it is a demon ; Avith power to wield, it knows no bounds nor restraint. It holds millions subject to it; inflames their passions, excites them to military fury, and is never satisfied but in conquering, destroying, and tyrannizing. The strong will produces an Alexander or a Napoleon. Alexander cried because there were no more kingdoms to conquer ; and Bonaparte, after overrunning Europe, spent his force amid the snovvs of Russia. " Con- quest has made me," he said, "and conquest must maintain ine." But he was a man of no moral principle, and Europe cast him aside when his work of destruction was done. The strong will, allied to right motives, is as full of blessings as the other is of mis- chief The man thus influenced moves and inflames the minds and consciences of others. He bends them to his' views of duty, carries them with him in his endeavors BE RIGHT, THEN GO AHEAD. 145 to secure worthy objects, and directs opinion to the suppression of wrong and the estab- lishment of right. The man of strong will stamps power upon his actions. His ener- getic perseverance becomes habitual. He gives a tone to the company in which he is, to the society in which he lives, and even to the nation in which he is born. He is a joy to the timid, and a perpetual reproach to the sluggard. He sets the former on their feet by giving them hope. He may even inspire the latter to good deeds by the influence of his example. Blown About by Every Wind. Besides the men of strong bad wills and strong good wills, there is a far larger num- ber who have very weak wills, or no wills at all. They are characterless. They have no strong will for vice, yet they have none for virtue. They are the passive recipients of impressions, which, however, take no hold of them. They seem neither to go forward nor backward. As the wind blows, so their vane turns round ; and when the wind blows from another quarter, it turns round again. Any instrument can write on such spirits ; any will can govern theirs. They cherish- no truth strongly, and do not know what earnestness is. Such persons consti- tute the mass of society everywhere — the careless, the passive, the submissive, the feeble, and the indifferent. It is, therefore, of the utmost importance that attention should be directed to the im- provement and stengthening of the will ; for without this there can neither be independ- ence, nor firmness, nor individuality of char- acter. Without it we cannot give truth its proper force, nor morals their proper direc- tion, nor save ourselves from being machines in the hands of worthless and designing men. Intellectual cultivation will not give decision of character. Philosophers discuss; deci- sive men act. " Not to resolve," says Bacon, " is to resolve " — that is, to do nothing. On the summit of a hill in a Western State is a court house, so situated that the rain-drops which fall on one side of the roof descend into Lake Erie and thence through the St. Lawrence into the Atlantic. The rain-drops which fall on the other side, trickle down from rivulet to rivulet until they reach the Ohio and Mississippi, and finally enter the ocean by the Gulf of Mexico. A faint breath of wind determines the destina- tion of these rain-drops for three thousand miles. A single act determines, sometimes, a human destiny for all time and for eternity. When Kossuth was an exile in Turkey, the government was strongly pressed by Rus- sia and Austria to give him up. The expe- dient was resorted to of making his protec- tion contingent on his embracing Moham- medanism. Hear his reply: "My answer admits of no hesitation. Between death and shame, the choice can neither be dubious nor difficult. I know what I owe to my country; I know my duty as a private individual. I am prepared to die." Patrick Henry's Courage. When Patrick Henry, who gave the first impulse to the ball of the American Revolu- tion, introduced his celebrated resolution on the Stamp Act into the House of Burgesses of Virginia (May, 1765), he exclaimed, when descanting on the tyranny of the obnoxious act: "Caesar had his Brutus; Charles the First his Cromwell; and George the Third" — "Treason!" cried the speaker. "Trea- son! treason!" echoed from every part of the house. It was one of those trying mo- ments which are decisive of character. Henry faltered not for an instant ; but rising to a loftier attitude, and fixing on the speaker 146 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. an eye flashing with fire, continued — "may profit by their example. If this be treason, make the most of it." These examples of decision of character, being sure of the right and then going ahead, will never cease to be read, for they point to the highest type of man. Men cannot be raised in masses, as the mountains were in the early geological states of the world . They must be dealt with as units ; for it is only by the elevation of individuals that the elevation of the masses can be effectually secured. Teachers and preachers may influ- ence them from without, but the main action comes from within. Individual men must exert themselves and help themselves, other- wise they never can be effectually helped by others. Home is the Cradle of Virtue. Mere cultivation of the intellect has hardly any influence upon conduct. Creeds posted upon the memory will not eradicate vicious propensities. The intellect is merely an in- strument, which is moved and worked by forces behind it — by emotions, by self- restraint, by self-control, by imagination, by enthusiasm, by everything that gives force and energy to character. The most of these principles are implanted at home, and not at school. Where the home is miserable, worthless, and unprin- cipled — a place rather to be avoided than entered — then school is the only place for learning obedience and discipline. At the same time, home is the true soil where virtue grows. The events of the household are more near and affecting to us than those of the school and the academy. It is in the study of the home that the true character and hopes of the times are to be consulted. To train up their households is the busi- ness of the old ; to obey their parents and to grow in wisdom is the business of the young. Education is a work of authority and respect. Christianity, according to Guizot, is the greatest school of respect that the world has ever seen. Religious instruc- tion alone imparts the spirit of self-sacrifice, great virtues, and lofty thoughts. It pene- trates to the conscience, and makes life bearable without a murmur against the mys- tery of human conditions. The Object of Training. "The great end of training," says a great writer, "is liberty ; and the sooner you can get a child to be a law unto himself, the sooner you will make a man of him. I will respect human liberty in the smallest child even more scrupulously than in a grown man ; for the latter can defend it against me, while the child cannot. Never will I insult the child so far as to regard him as material to be cast into a mould, to emerge with the stamp given by my will." Paternal authority and family independence is a sacred domain ; and, if momentarily ob- scured in troublous times. Christian sentiment protests and resists until it regains its authority. But liberty is not all that should be struggled for ; obedience, self-restraint, and self-government, are the conditions to be chiefly aimed at. The latter is the principal end of education. It is not imparted by teaching, but by example. The first instruc- tion for youth, says Bonald, consists in habits, not in reasonings, in examples rather than in direct lessons. Example preaches better than precept, and that too because it is so much more difficult. At the same time, the best influences grow slowly, and in a gradual correspondence with human needs. To act rightly, then, is the safety-valve of our moral nature. Good-will is not enough; it does not always produce good deeds. BE RIGHT. THEN GO AHEAD. 147 Persevering action does most. What is done with diligence and toil imparts to the spec- tator a silent force, of which we cannot say how far it may reach. Noble work is the true educator. Idle- ness is a thorough demoralizer of body, soul, and conscience. Nine-tenths of the vices and miseries of the world proceed from idle- ness. Without work there can be no active progress in human welfare. Base Idleness. I waste no more in idle dreams My life, my soul away ; I wake to know my better self — I wake to watch and pray. Thought, feeling, time, on idols vain, I've lavished all too long : Henceforth to holier purposes I pledge myself, my song ! I shut mine eyes in grief and shame Upon the dreary past — My heart, my soul poured recklessly On dreams that could not last : My bark was drifted down the stream, At will of wind or wave — An idle, light and fragile thing. That few had cared to save. Henceforth the tiller Truth shall hold, And steer as conscience tells. And I will brave the storms of fate, Though vnld the ocean swells. I know my soul is strong and high, If once I give it sway : I feel a glorious power within. Though light I seem and gay. Oh, laggard soul ! unclose thine eyes — No more in luxury soft Of joy ideal waste thyself: Awake and soar aloft ! Unfurl this hour those falcon wings Which thou dost fold too long ; Raise to the skies thy lightning gaze. And sing thy loftiest song ! Frances Sargent Osgood. O Have we difficulties to contend with ? Then work through them. No exorcism charms like labor. Idleness of mind and body re- sembles rust. It wears more than work. "I would rather work out than rust out," said a noble worker. Schiller said that he found the greatest happiness in life to consist in the performance of some mechanical duty. He was also of opinion that " the sense of beauty never furthered the performance of a single duty." The highest order of being is that which loses sight in resolution, and feeling in work. The greatest of difficulties often lie where we are not looking for them. When painful events occur, they are, perhaps, sent only to try and prove us. If we stand firm in our hour of trial, the firmness gives serenity to the mind, which always feels satisfaction in acting conformably to duty. "The battles of the wilderneos," said Norman Macleod, " are the sore battles of everyday life. Their giants are our giants, their sorrows our sor- rows, their defeats and victories ours also. As they had honors, defeats and victories, so have we." How to Meet Difficulties. The school of difficulty is the best school of moral discipline. When difficulties have to be encountered, they must be met with courage and cheerfulness. Did not Aristotle say that happiness is not so much in our objects as in our energies? Grappling with difficulties is the surest way of overcoming them. The determination to realize an object is the moral conviction that we can and will accomplish it. Our wits are sharpened by our necessity, and the individual man stands forth to meet and overcome the difficulties which stand in his way. Robert Bruce had been defeated twelve times by Edward. His troops were scattered and he had taken shelter in a barn. While in the barn he saw a spider trying to climb a beam of the roof. It fell down twelve times. 148 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. The thirteenth time it climbed to the top. Bruce said to himself, " Why should I not persevere also? " He rallied his troops, defeated Edward, and was crowned king. Mr. Disraeli failed in his first speech in the House of Commons. As he took his seat he uttered the prediction, " The day will come when you will be glad to hear me." Robert Hall, the great non-conformist preacher, broke down in his first sermon. George Stephenson was laughed at when he first talked of a locomotive and a railway. Mr. Thackeray had great difficulty in finding a publisher willing to publish " Vanity Fair." Bishop Simpson failed in his first sermon. His earliest pulpit efforts were so poor that liis friends advised him not to enter the ministry. History is full of such examples. Don't be discouraged. "If at first you don't succeed, try again." A Sign of ^A/eakness. The memoirs of men who have thrown their opportunities away would constitute a painful but a memorable volume for the world's instruction. " No strong man, in good health," says Ebenezer Elliot, " can be neglected, if he be true to himself For the benefit of the young, I wish we had a correct account of the number of persons who fail of success, in a thousand who resolutely strive to do well. I do not think it exceeds •one per cent." Men grudge success, but it is only the last term of what looked like a series of failures. They failed at first, then again and again, but at last their difficulties vanished, and success was achieved. The desire to possess, without being bur- dened with the trouble of acquiring, is a great sign of weakness and laziness. Every- thing that is worth enjoying or possessing can only be got by the pleasure of working. This is the great secret of practical strength. One may very distinctly prefer industry to indolence, the healthful exercise of all one's faculties to allowing them to rest unused in drowsy torpor. In the long run we shall proably find that the exercise of the faculties has of itself been the source of a more genu- ine happiness than has followed the actual attainment of what the exercise was directed to procure. Seizing Opportunities. It has been said of a great judge that he never threw a legitimate opportunity away, but that he never condescended to avail himself of one that was unlawful. What he had to do, at any period of his career, was done with his whole heart and soul. If failure should result from his labors, self- reproach could not affect him, for he had tried to do his best. We must work, trusting that some of the good seed we throw into the ground will take root and spring up into deeds of well- doing. What man begins for himself God finishes for others. Indeed, we can finish nothing. Others begin where we leave off, and carry on our work to a stage nearer perfection. We have to bequeath to those who come after us a noble design, worthy of imitation. Well done, well doing, and well to do, are inseparable conditions that reach through all the ages of eternity. Very f^jw people can realize the idea that they are of no use in the world. The fact of their existence implies the necessity for their existence. The world is before them. They have their choice of good and evil — of use- fulness and idleness. What have they clone with their time and means ? Have they shown the world that their existence has been of any use whatever ? Have they made any one the better because of their life? Has their career been a mere matter of idle- 14? 150 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. ness and selfishness, of laziness and indiffer- ence ? Have they been seeking pleasure ? Pleasure flies before idleness. Happiness is out of the reach of laziness. Pleasure and happiness are the fruits of work and labor, never of carelessness and indifference. A resolute will is needed not only for the performance of difficult duties, but in order to go promptly, energetically, and with self- possession, through the thousand difficult things which come in almost everybody's way. Thus courage is as necessary as integrity in the performance of duty. The force may seem small which is needed to carry one cheerfully through any of these things singly, but to encounter one by one the crowding aggregate, and never to be taken by surprise, or thrown out of temper, is one of the last attainments of the human spirit. Up e-.d At It. Every generation has to bear its own burden, to weather its peculiar perils, to pass through its manifold trials. We are daily exposed to temptations, whether it be of idleness, self-indulgence, or vice. The feel- ing of duty and the power of courage must resist these things at whatever sacrifice of worldly interest. When virtue has thus be- come a daily habit, we become possessed of an individual character, prepared for fulfilling, in a great measure, the ends for which we were created. How much is lost to the world for want of a little courage ! We have the willingness to do, but we fail to do it. The state of the world is such, and so much depends on action that everything seems to say loudly to every man, "Do something; do it, do it." The poor country parson, fighting against evil in his parish, against wrong-doing, injustice, and iniquity, has nobler ideas of duty than Alexander the Great ever had. Some men are mere apologies for workers, even when they pretend to be up and at it. They stand shivering on the brink, and have not the courage to plunge in. Every day sends to the grave a number of obscure men, who, if they had had the courage to begin, would, in all probability, have gone great lengths in the career of well-doing. No Place for Cowards. Professor Wilson, of Edinburgh, in teach- ing his students, almost put foremost the sense of duty; moreover, of duty in action. His lectures deeply influenced the characters of those who listened to him. He sent them forth to fight the battle of life valiantly ; like the old Danish hero — "to dare nobly, to will strongly, and never to falter in the path of duty." Such was his creed. There is a great deal of trimming in the world, for the most part arising from the want of courage. When Luther said to Erasmus, "You desire to walk upon eggs without crushing them, and among glasses without breaking them," the timorous, hesi- tating Erasmus replied, "I will not be unfaithful to the cause of Christ, at least so far as the age will permit mey Luther was of a very different character. " I will go to Worms though devils were combined against me as thick as the tiles upon the housetops." Or like St. Paul, "I am ready, not only to be bound, but to die at Jeru- salem." A very successful man once said, "One trait of my character is thorough seriousness. I am indifferent about nothing that I under- take. In fact, if I undertake to do a thing, I cannot be indifferent." This makes all the difference between a strong man and a weak man. The brave men are often killed, the talkers are left behind, the cowards run BE RIGHT. THEiN GO AHEAD. 151 away. Deeds show what we are, words only what we should be. Every moment of a working life may be a decisive victory. The joy of creation more than returns all the pains of labor; and, as the conscious labor against external obstacles is the first joy of awakening life, so the completed work is the most intense of pleasures, bringing to full birth in us the sense of personality, and consecrating our triumph, if only partial and momentary, over nature. Such is the true character of effort or will in action. Actions Conquer. A man is a miracle of genius because he has been a miracle of labor. Strength can conquer circumstances. The principle of action is too powerful for any circumstances to resist. It clears the way, and elevates itself above every object, above fortune and misfortune, good and evil. The joys that come to us in this world are but to strengthen us for some greater labor that is to succeed. Man's wisdom appears in his actions; for every man is the son of his own work. Richter says that "good deeds ring clear through heaven like a bell." Active and sympathetic contact with man in the transactions of daily life is a better preparation for healthy, robust action than any amount of meditation and seclusion. What Swedenborg said about vowing poverty and retiring from the world in order to live more to heaven seems reasonable and true. "The life that leads to heaven," he said, "is not a life of retirement from the world, but of action in the world. A life of charity, which consists in acting sincerely and justly in every enjoyment and work, in obedience to the divine law, is not difficult; but a life of piety alone is difficult, and it leads away from heaven as much as it is commonly believed to lead to it." With many people religion is merely a matter of words. So far as words go, we do what we think right. But the words rarely lead to action, thought and conduct, or to purity, goodness and honesty. There is too much playing at religion, and too little of enthusiastic hard work. There is a great deal of reading about rehgion; but true religion, embodied in human character and action, is more instructive than a thousand doctrinal volumes. If a man possesses not a living and strong will that leads the way to good, he will either become a plaything of sensual desires, or pass a life of sham.eless indolence. One of the greatest dangers that at pres- ent beset the youth of our country is laziness. What is called "culture" amounts to little. It may be associated with the meanest moral character, abject servility to those in high places, and arrogance to the poor and lowly. The fast, idle youth believes nothing, vene- rates nothing, hopes nothing; no, not even the final triumph of good in human hearts. Not All the Same. There are many Mr. Tootses in the world, saying, "It's all the same," "It's of no con- sequence." It is not all the same, nor will it be all the same a hundred years hence. The life of each man tells upon the whole life of society. Each man has his special duty to perform, his special work to do. If he does it not, he himself suffers, and others suffer through him. His idleness infects others, and propagates a bad example. A useless life is only an early death. There is far too much croaking among young men. Instead of setting to work upon the thing they dream of, they utter querulous complaints which lead to no action. Is life worth living? Certainly not, if it be wasted in idleness. Even 152 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. reading is often regarded as a mental dissi- pation. It is only a cultivated apathy. Hence you find so many grumbling, indif- ferent, "loud" youths, their minds polished into a sort of intellectual keenness and cleverness, breaking out into sarcasm upon the acts of others, but doing nothing them- selves. They sneer at earnestness of char- acter. A lamentable indifference possesses these intellectual vagrants. Their souls, if they are conscious of possessing them, are blown about by every passing wind. They understand without beheving. The thoughts which such minds receive produce no acts. They hold no principles or convictions. The religious element is ignored. Their creed is nothing, out of which nothing comes; no aspirations after the higher life, no yearnings after noble ideas or a still nobler character. A Living Book. And yet we have plenty of intellect, but no faith ; plenty of knowledge, but no wis- dom; plenty of "culture," but no loving- kindness. A nation may possess refinement, and possess nothing else. Knowledge and wisdom, so far from being one, have often no connection with each other. It may be doubted whether erudition tends to promote wisdom or goodness. Fenelon says it is better to be a good living book than to love good books. A multifarious reading may please, but does not feed the mind. St. Anselm said that " God often works more by the life of the illiterate, seeking the things which are God's, than by the ability of the learned seeking the things that are their own." Here is the portrait which a great French writer has drawn of his contemporaries : "What do you perceive on all sides but a profound indifference as to creeds and duties, with an ardor for pleasure and for gold, which can procure everything you desire ? Everything can be bought — conscience, honor, religion, opinion, dignities, power, consideration, respect itself ; vast shipwrecks of all truths and of all virtues ! All philoso- phical theories, all the doctrines of impiety, have dissolved themselves and disappeared in the devouring system of indifference, the actual tomb of the understanding, into which it goes down alone, naked, equally stripped of truth and error ; an empty sepulchre, where one cannot find even bones." The Riches of the Heart. It is this state of society that breeds anarchy and confusion. Moral restraint is ignored, law is despised, human life is cheap, and the assassination of a Russian Czar, one or two American Presidents, a Mayor of Chicago, and a President of the French Republic, are the legitimate fruit of the seed that has been sown. There are those who change the title of this chapter and say, "Be wrong, then go ahead." And there are those who sneer at the old- fashioned virtues of industry and self-denial, energy and self-help. Theirs is a mere creed of chilling negations, in which there is nothing to admire, nothing to hope for. They are sceptics in everything, doing no work themselves, but denying the works of others. They believe in nothing except in themselves. They are their own little gods. Oh, the vain pride of mere intellectual ability ! how worthless, how contemptible, when contrasted with the riches of the heart ! What is the understanding of the hard dry capacity of the brain and body ? A mere dead skeleton of opinions, a few dry bones tied up together, if there be not a soul to add moisture and life, substance and reality, truth BE RIGHT, THEN GO AHEAD. 153 k and joy. Every one will remember the modest saying of Newton — perhaps the greatest man who ever lived — the discoverer of the method of Fluxions, the theory of universal gravitation, and the decomposition of Hght — that he felt himself but as a child playing by the seashore, while the immense ocean of truth lay all unexplored before him ! Have we any philosophers who will make such a confession now? Pursuit of Knowledge. "What is its earthly victory ? Press on ! For it hath tempted angels. Yet press on ! For it shall make you mighty among men ; And from the eyry of your eagle thought Ye shall look down on monarchs. O press on ! For the high ones and powerful shall come To do you reverence : and the beautiful Will know the purer language of your brow. And read it like a talisman of love ! Press on ! for it is god-like to unloose The spirit, and forget yourself in thought ; Bending a pinion for the deeper sky, And, in the very fetters of your flesh, Mating with the pure essence of heaven ! Press on !^" for in the grave there is no work, And no device." — Press on ! while yet ye may ! N. P. Willis. What We Should Know. What is true knowledge ? Is it with keen eye Of lucre's sons to thread the mazy way? Is it of civic rights, and royal sway, And wealth political, the depths to try? Is it to delve the earth, or soar the sky ? To marshal nature's tribes in just array? To mix, and analyze, and mete, and weigh Her elements, and all her powers descry? These things, who will may know them, if to know Breed not vain glory. But o'er all to scan God, in His works and word shown forth below ; Creation's wonders, and Redemption's plan ; Whence came we, what to do, and whither go : This is true knowledge, and " the whole of man." Bishop Mant. "There are truths," said a well known author, " which man can only attain by the spirit of his heart. A good man is often astonished to find persons of great ability resist proofs which appear clear to him. These persons are deficient in a certain faculty; that is the true meaning. When the cleverest man does not possess a sense of religion, we cannot only not conquer hiai, but we have not even the means of making him understand us." Again, Sir Humphry Davy said, " Reason is often a dead weight in life, destroying feeling, and substituting for principle only calculation and caution." But the widest field of duty lies outside the line of literature and books. Men are social beings more than intellectual creatures. The best part of human cultivation is derived from social contact ; hence courtesy, self- respect, mutual toleration, and self-sacrifice for the good of others. Experience of men is wider than literature. Life is a book which lasts one's lifetime, but it requires wisdom to understand its difficult pages. What Hugh Miller Said. In the old times boys had duty placed before them as an incentive. To fail was to disgrace one's self, and to succeed was merely to do one's duty. "i\.s for the dream," said Hugh Miller, "that there is to be some extraordinary elevation of the gen- eral platform of the human race achieved by means of education, it is simply the halluci- nation of the age — the world's present alchemical expedient for converting farthings into guineas, sheerly by dint of scouring." What spectacle can be sadder than to see men, and even women, passing their lives in theorizing and gossiping over the great prin- ciples which their forefathers really believed ; and by believing which, they secured for their generation the gifts of faith, of goodness, and of well-doing ? There are two thoughts which, if once admitted to the mind, change our whole course of life — the belief that this 154 THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. world is but the vestibule of an endless state of being, and the thought of Him in whom man lives here, or shall live hereafter. We each have the choice of following good or following evil. Who shall say which shall prove the mightier ? It depends upon our- selves — on our awakened conscience and enlightened will." Troubles and sorrows may have to be encountered in performing our various duties. But these have to be done, and done cheer- fully, because it is the will of God. Good actions give strength to ourselves, and inspire good actions in others. They prove treas- ures guarded for the doer's need. Let us therefore strengthen our mind, and brace up our soul, and prepare our heart for the future. The race is for life. THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE. The doors, that knew no shrill alarming, bell, Ne cursed knocker plied by villain's hand. Self-opened into halls, where, who can tell What elegance and grandeur wide expand. The pride of Turkey and of Persia land ? Soft quilts on quilts, on carpets carpets spread, And couches stretched around in seemly band. And endless pillows rise to prop the head ; So that each spacious room was one full-swelling bed. And everywhere huge covered tables stood, With wines high flavored and rich viands crowned : Whatever sprightly juice or tasteful food On the green bosom of this Earth are found, And all old Ocean genders in his round : Some hand unseen those silently displayed, Even undemanded by a sign or sound ; You need but wish, and, instantly obeyed, Fair ranged the dishes rose, and thick the glasses played. Each sound, too, here, to languishment inclined, I,ulled the weak bosom, and induced ease : Aerial music in the warbling wind. At distance rising oft, by small degrees. Nearer and nearer came, till o'er the trees It hung, and breathed such soul-dissolving airs As did, alas ! with soft perdition please : Entangled deep in its enchanting snares, The listening heart forgot all duties and all cares. A certain music, never known before, Here lulled the pensive melancholy mind ; Full easily obtained. Behoves no more, But sidelong, to the gently waving wind. To lay the well-tuned instrument reclined, From which, with airy-flying fingers light. Beyond each mortal touch the most refined, The god of winds drew sounds of deep delight, Whence, with just cause, the harp of ^olus its hight. And hither Morpheus sent his kindest dreams. Raising a world of gayer tinct and grace, O'er which were shadowy cast Elysian gleams, That played, in waving lights, from place to place, And shed a roseate smile on Nature's face. Not Titian's pencil e'er could so array. With fleecy clouds, the pure ethereal space ; Nor could it e'er such melting forms display. As loose on flowery beds all languishingly lay. Here languid Beauty kept her pale-faced court ; Bevies of dainty dames, of high degree. From every quarter hither made resort ; Where, from gross mortal care and business free. They lay, poured out in ease and luxury : Or should they a vain show of work assume, Alas ! and well-a-day ! what can it be ? To knot, to twist, to range the vernal bloom ; But far is cast the distaff, spinning-wheel, and loom. Their only labor was to kill the time ; And labor dire it is, and weary woe : They sit, they loll, turn o'er some idle rhyme, Then, rising sudden, to the glass they go, Or saunter forth, with tottering step and slow : This soon too rude an exercise they find ; Straight on the couch their limbs again they throw. Where hours on hours they sighing lie reclined. And court the vapory god soft-breathing in the wind. Now must I mark the villany we found ; But, ah ! too late, as shall full soon be shown. A place here was, deep, dreary, undergronnd. Where still our inmates, when unpleasing grown, Diseased, and loathsome, privily were thrown. Far from the light of heaven, they languished there, Unpitied, uttering many a bitter groan ; For of these wretches taken was no care : Fierce fiends, and hags of hell, their only nurses were. BE RIGHT, THEN GO AHEAD. 155 Alas ! the change ! from scenes of joy and rest, To this dark den, where Sickness tossed alway. Here Lethargy, with deadly sleep opprest. Stretched on his back, a mighty lubbard, lay, Heaving his sides, and snoring night and day ; To stir him from his trance it was not eath, And his half-opened eyes he shut straightway ; He led, I wot, the softest way to death. And taught withouten pain and strife to yield the breath. Of limbs enormous, but withal unsound, Soft-swoln and pale, here lay the Hydropsy : Unweildy man ! with belly monstrous round, Forever fed with watery supply : For still he drank, and yet he still was dry. And moping here did Hypochondria sit. Mother of Spleen, in robes of various dye. Who vexed was full oft with an ugly fit ; And some her frantic deemed, and some her deemed a wit. A lady proud she was of ancient blood, Yet oft her fear her pride made crouchen low ; She felt, or fancied, in her fluttering mood, All the diseases which the spitals know, And sought all physic which the shops bestow, And still new leaches and new drugs would try. Her humor ever wavering to and fro ; For sometimes she would laugh, and sometimes cry. Then sudden waxed wroth, and all she knew not why. Fast by her side a listless maiden pined. With aching head, and squeamish heart-burnings ; Pale, bloated, cold, she seemed to hate mankind, Yet loved in secret all forbidden things. And here the Tertian shakes his chilling wings ; The sleepless Gout here counts the crowing cocks ; A wolf now gnaws him, now a serpent stings ; Whilst Apoplexy crammed Intemperance knocks Down to the ground at once, as butcher felleth ox. James Thomson. 156 BOOK II. THE CARDINAL YIRTUES, CHAPTER IX. THE GREATEST OF THESE 15 CHARITY.' OVE is chief of all the virtues that bless the world and make it happier. True charity gives to the poor ; it is also slow to con- demn another, and puts a favor- able construction on human faults and errors, but the root of these actions is love in the heart. The spirit of kindness, of philanthropy, of good- will, is what we wish to urge upon all who read these pages. Are we growing wiser ? Do we begin to see that if we would make men better and happier we must resort to that grandest of all forces — gentleness ? Such a method of treating human beings has never in any case produced resistance or rebellion ; has never made them worse, but in all cases made them better. Love is a constraining power ; it elevates and civilizes all who come under its influence. It indicates faith in man, and without faith in man's better nature no methods of treatment will avail in improving him. Kindness draws out the better part of every nature — disarming resistance, dissipa- ting angry passions, and melting the hardest heart. It overcomes evil, and strengthens good. Extend the principle to nations, and it still applies. It has already banished feuds between clans, between provinces ; let it have free play, and war between nations will also cease. Though the idea may seem absurd now, future generations will come to regard war as a crime too horrible to be perpetrated. Love to Our Fellow-Men. Abou Ben Adhem, may his tribe increase, Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel, writing in a book of gold. Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in his room he said : " What writest thou ? " The vision raised its head, And with a look, made all of sweet accord, Answered, ' ' The names of those that love the Lord." "And is mine one? " said Abou. " Nay, not so," Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerly still, and said, "I pray thee, then, "Write me as one that loves his fellow-men. ' ' The Angel wrote and vanished. The next night He came again with a great waking light, And showed the names whom love of God had blest, And, lo ! Ben Adhem' s name led all the rest. Leigh Hunt. "Love," says Emerson, " would put a new face on this weary old world, in which we dwell as pagans and enemies too long; and it would warm the heart to see how fast the vain diplomacy of statesmen, the impotence of armies and navies, and lines of defence, 157 158 THE GREATEST OF THESE IS CHARIIY." would be superseded by this unarmed child. Love will creep where it cannot go; will accomplish that, by imperceptible methods — being its own fulcrum, lever and power — which force could never achieve. " Have you not seen in the woods, in a late autumn morning, a poor fungus or mush- room, a plant without any solidity, nay, that seemed nothing but a soft mush or jelly, by its constant, bold and inconceivably gentle pushing, manage to break its way up through the frosty ground, and actually to hft a hard crust on its head? This is the symbol of the power of kindness. The virtue of this prin- ciple in human society, in application to great interests, is obsolete and forgotten. Once or twice in history it has been tried, in illus- trious instances, with signal success. This great, overgrown, dead Christendom of ours still keeps alive, at least, the name of a lover of mankind. But one day all men will be lovers, and every calamity will be dissolved in the universal sunshine." " Each for Himself." There are many families, the members of which are, without doubt, dear to each other. If sickness or sudden trouble falls on one, all are afflicted, and make haste to sympathize, help, and comfort. But in their daily life and ordinary intercourse there is not only no expression of affection, none of the pleasant and fond behavior that has, perhaps, little dignity, but which more than makes up for that in its sweetness ; but there is an absolute hardness of language and actions which is shocking to every sensitive and tender feeling. Between father and mother, and brother and sister, pass rough and hasty words ; yes, and angry words, far more frequently than words of endearment. To see and hear them, one would think that they hated, instead of loved each other. It does not seem to have entered into their heads that it is their duty, as it should be their best pleasure, to do and say all that they possibly can for each other's good and happiness. " Each one for himself, and bad luck take the hindermost." The father orders and growls, the mother frets, complains, and scolds, the children snap, snarl, and whine, and so goes the day. Alas for it, if this is a type of heaven! — as "the family" — is said to be — at least, it is said to be the nearest thing to heaven of anything on earth. But the spirit of selfishness, of vio- lence, renders it more like the other place — yes, and this too often, even when all the members of the household are members of the Church. Where you see — when you know it — one family where love and gentle- ness reign, you see ten where they only make visits, and this among Christian families as well as others. A Family Bear-Garden. Now, it is a sad and melancholy thing to "sit solitary" in life, but give me a cave in the bowels of earth, give me a lodge in any waste, howling wilderness, where foot nor face of human being ever came, rather than an abode with parents, friends, or kindred, in which I must hear or utter language which causes pain, or where I must see conduct which is not born of love. No wealth, no advantage of any kind, would induce me to live with people whose intercourse was of such a nature. The dearer they were to me, the less would I remain among them, if they did not do all they could to make each other happy. With mere strangers one might endure, even under such circumstances, to remain for a time ; for what they say or do has but limited effect upon one's feelings ; but how members of the same family, children of the same parents, can remain together, year after year, when THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 159 every day they hear quarreling, if they do not join in it, and when hard words fly on all sides of them, thick as hail, and the very visitors in their house are rendered uncom- fortable by them, is indeed a mystery. *' Count life by virtues these will last When life's lame, foiled, race is o'er ; And these, when earthly joys are past. Shall cheer us on a brighter shore." There is an old song that is so beautiful and pathetic, and teaches such a wholesome lesson, that it is worthy of being reproduced here as a gentle adt^.onition to all who read these pages. Kindness at Home. Be kind to thy father, for when thou wast young. Who loved thee so fondly as he? He caught the first accents that fell from thy tongue. And joined in thy innocent glee : Be kind to thy father, for now he is old, His locks intermingled with gray ; His footsteps are feeble — once fearless and bold : Thy father is passing away. Be kind to thy mother, for lo ! on her brow May traces of sorrow be seen ; Oh ! well mayst thou cherish and comfort her now. For loving and kind she hath been : Remember thy mother ! for thee will she pray, As long as God giveth her breath ; With accents of kindness, then cheer her lone way, E'en to the dark valley of death. Be kind to thy brother ! his heart will have dearth If the smiles of thy joy be withdrawn ; The flowers of feeling will fade at the birth. If love and affection be gone. Be kind to thy brother, wherever you are ; The love of a brother shall be An ornament purer and richer, by far, Than pearls from the depths of the sea. Be kind to thy sister ! not many may know The depth of true sisterly love ; The wealth of the ocean lies fathoms below The surface that sparkles above ; Thy kindness shall bring to thee many sweet hours. And blessings thy pathway shall crown ; Affection shall weave thee a garland of flowers, More precious than wealth or renown. Says a well-known writer: " Affection does not beget weakness, nor is it effeminate for a brother to be tenderly attached to his sisters. That boy will make the noblest, the bravest man. On the battle-field, in many terrible battles during our late horrible war, I always noticed that those boys who had been reared under the tenderest home culture always made the best soldiers. They were always brave, always endured the severe hardships of camp, the march, or on the bloody field most silently, and were most dutiful at every call. More, much more, they resisted the frightful temptations that so often surrounded them, and seldom returned to their loved ones stained with the sins incident to war. "Another point, they were always kind and polite to those whom they met in the enemy's country. Under their protection, woman was always safe. How often I have heard one regiment compared with another, when the cause of the difference was not comprehended by those who drew the comparison ! I knew the cause — it was the home education. Manly AfFection. "We see the same every day in the busy- life of the city. Call together one hundred young men in our city, and spend an evening with them, and we will tell you their home education. Watch them as they approach young ladies, and converse with them, and we will show you who have been trained under the influence of home affection and politeness, and those who have not. "That young man who was accustomed to kiss his sweet, innocent, loving sister night and morning as they met, shows its influence upon him, and he will never forget it ; and when he shall take some one to his heart as his wife, she shall reap the golden fruit thereof. The young man who was in the habit of giving his arm to his sister as they S^ - V - ^ %' '^m-. ^ ^^^^ ^*, m^^m^M I Wm >^ WM ^ r ^^y -^ = — ^ E=? - ■^y -:^fc -^ PEACE ON EARTH, GOOD-WILL TO MEN. 160 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. walked to and from church, will never leave his wife to find her way as best she can. The young man who has been taught to see that his sister had a seat before he sought his, will never mortify a neglected wife in the presence of strangers. And that young man who always handed his sister to her chair at the table, will never have cause to blush as he sees some gentleman extend to his wife the courtesy she knows is due from liim. " Mothers and daughters, wives and sisters, remember that, and remember that you have the making of the future of this great country, and rise at once to your high and holy duty. Remember that you must make that future, whether you will or not. We are all what you make us. Ah! throw away your weak- ening follies of fashion, and soul-famine, and rise to the level where God intended you should be, and make every one of your homes, from this day, schools of true polite- ness and tender affection. "Take those little curly-headed boys, and teach them all you would have men to be, and my word for it, they will be just such men, and will go forth to bless the world, and crown you with a glory such as queens and empresses never dreamed of Wield your power now, and you shall reap the fruit in your ripe age." Home Teaching. Delightful task ! to rear the tender thought, To teach the 3'oung idea how to shoot, To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, To breathe the enliv'ning spirit, and to fix The generous purpose in the glowing breast. James Thomson. The Happiest Home. Where is the happiest home on earth ? Tis not 'mid scenes of noisy mirth ; But where God's favor, sought aright, Fills every breast with joy and light. 11 The richest home ? It is not found W jere wealth and splendor most abound ; But wheresoe'er, in hall or cot, Men live contented with their lot. The fairest home ? It is not placed In scenes with outward beauty graced ; But where kind words and smiles impart A constant sunshine to the heart. On such a home of peace and love God showers his blessing from above ; And angels, watching o'er it, cry, " IvO ! this is like our home on high ! " A good story of two neighbors living in New Jersey is told by one of them, and shows how a soft answer will turn away wrath and how kindness will soften a surly spirit. Those Troublesome Hens. " I once owned," he says, " a large flock of hens. I generally kept them shut up. But one spring, I concluded to let them run in my yard, after I had clipped their wings so that they could not fly. One day when I came home to dinner, I learned that one of my neighbors had been there full of wrath, to let me know that my hens had been in his garden, and that he had killed several of them, and thrown them over into my yard. I was greatly enraged because he had killed my beautiful hens that I valued so much. I determined at once to be revenged, to sue him, or in some way to get redress. " I sat down and ate my dinner as calmly as I could. By the time I had finished my meal, I became more cool, and thought that perhaps it was not best to fight with my neighbor about hens, and thereby make him my bitter enemy. I concluded to try another way, being sure that it would be better. After dinner, I went to my neighbor's. He was in his garden. I went out, and found him in pursuit of one of my hens with a club, trying to kill it. I accosted him. 162 THE GREATEST OF THESE IS CHARITY." " He turned upon me, his face inflamed with wrath, and broke out in a great fury, ' You have abused me. I will kill all of your hens, if I can get them. I never was so abused. My garden is ruined.' " " ' I am sorry for it,' said I ; ' I did not wish to injure you ; and now see that I have made a great mistake in letting out my hens. I ask your forgiveness, and am wiUing to pay you six times the damage.' "The man seemed confounded. He did not know what to make of it. He looked up to the sky, then down at the earth, then at his neighbor, then at his club, and then at the poor hen he had been pursuing, and said nothing. " ' Tell me now,' said I, ' what is the damage, and I will pay you sixfold; and my hens shall trouble you no more. I will leave it entirely to you to say what I shall do. I cannot afford to lose the love and goodwill of my neighbors, and quarrel with them, for hens or anything else.' The Quarrel Settled. " ' I am a great fool ! ' said my neighbor. ' The damage is not worth talking about ; and I have more need to compensate you than you me, and to ask your forgiveness than you mine.' " This incident shows that there is a better way of settling quarrels than by resentment and retaliation. The just and generous spirit softens hatred and hard-heartedness. It is a remarkable fact that multitudes of persons do business all their lives and never have disagreements with others, never incur the censure of their neighbors and never have to go into court to settle disputes, while there are many who never seem to be able to keep out of court and are always in trou- ble with someone who, they imagine, has injured them. There will be a good crop of lawyers so long as such persons act out their native disposition. They appear to enjoy a lawsuit; they are porcupines with the quills always erect and bristling. B_n Franklin knew how to conquer an enemy. He never attempted to do it with a cudgel. In 1736 he was chosen clerk of the General Assembly of Pennsylvania — his first promotion, as he calls it in his narrative. The choice was annual, and the year follow- ing a new member made a long speech against his re-election. We copy what he relates on this occasion, because it is every way characteristic: Kindness Conquered. "As the place was highly desirable for me on many accounts, I did not like the oppo- sition of this new member, who was a gen- tleman of fortune and education, with talents that were likely to give him in time great influence in the House, which indeed after- wards happened. I did not, however, aim at gaining his favor by paying any servile respect to him, but after sometime took this other method. Having heard that he had in his library a certain very scarce and curious book, I wrote a note to him expressing my desire of perusing that book, and requesting that he would do me the favor of lending it to me for a few days. " He sent it immediately, and I returned it in about a week with another note, strongly expressing my sense of the favor. When we next met in the House, he spoke to me — which he had never done before — and with great civility; and he ever after manifested a readiness to serve me on all occasions, so that we became great friends, and our friend- ship continued to his death. This is another instance of the truth of an old maxim I had learned, which says, ' He that has once done you a kindness will be more ready to do you THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 163 another than he whom you yourself have obliged.' " And it shows how much more profitable it is prudently to remove, than to resent, return and continue inimical proceed- ings. Speaking to the young on this point, Hor- ace Mann says : " You are made to be kind, boys, generous, magnanimous. If there is a boy in school who has a club foot, don't let him know you ever saw it. If there is a poor boy with ragged clothes, don't talk about rags in his hearing. If there is a lame boy, assign him some part of the game which does not require running. If there is a hungry one, give him part of your dinner. If there is a dull one, help him to get his lesson. If there is a bright one, be not envious of him ; for if one boy is proud of his talents, and another is envious of them, there are two great wrongs, and no more talent than before. If a larger and stronger boy has injured you, and is sorry for it, for- give him. All the school will show by their countenances how much better it is than to have a great fist." An Act of Kindness. The blessings which the weak aud poor can scatter Have their own season. 'Tis a little thing To give a cup of water ; yet its draught Of cool refreshment, drained by fevered lips, May give a thrill of pleasure to the frame More exquisite than when nectarean juice Renews the life of joy in happiest hours. It is a little thing to speak a phrase Of common comfort which by daily use Has almost lost its sense ; yet on the ear Of him who thought to die unmourned 'twill fall Like choicest music, fill the glazing eye With gentle tears, relax the knotted hand To know the bonds of fellowship again, And shed on the departing soul a sense More precious than the benison of friends About the honored death-bed of the rich, To him who else were lonely, that another Of the great family is near and feels. Thomas Noon Tai,fourd. Men are very slow to give up their faith in physical force, as necessary for the guid- ance, correction and discipline of others. Force is the short way of settling matters, without any weighing of arguments. It is the summary logic of the barbarians, among whom the best man is he who strikes the heaviest blow or takes the surest aim. Coaxing Rather than Driving. Even civilized nations have been very slow to abandon their faith in force. Until very recent times, men of honor, who chanced to fall out, settled their quarrels by the duel; and governments, almost without exception, have resorted to arms to settle their quarrels as to territory or international arrangements. Indeed, we have been so trained and edu- cated into a belief in the efficacy of force — war has become so identified in history with, honor, glory and all sorts of high-sounding: names — that we can scarcely imagine it pos- sible that the framework of society could be held together, were the practice of force dis- carded, and that of love, benevolence and justice substituted in its place. And yet doubts are widely entertained as to the efficacy of the policy of force. It is suspected that force becjets more resistance than it is worth, and that if men are put down by violent methods, a spirit of rebellion is created, which breaks out from time to time in violent deeds, in hatred, in vice and in crime. Such, indeed, has been the issue of the policy of force in all countries and in all times. The history of the world is, to a great extent, the history of the failure of physical force. On two great occasions America and Great Britain have taught the rest of the world that it is possible to settle disputes by arbitration. When claims were made by our government against Great Britain for 164 THE GREATEST OF THESE IS CHARITY." depredations committed on the high seas during our civil war, instead of settling the difficulty by an appeal to the sword, a court of arbitration assembled at Geneva, Switzer- land, discussed the whole matter in a friendly spirit, and came to a conclusion that was binding upon both nations. And later a similar course was pursued in the dispute concerning the seal fisheries in Bering Sea. Let this thing go on and some so-called Christian nations may become civilized and not rush into war on every pretext like a gang of barbarians. Peace has finer victo- ries than war. Inhuman Cruelty. The principle of force has, in past times, been dismally employed in the treatment of lunatics, lepers, galley slaves and criminals. Lunatics were chained and put in cages like wild beasts. The lepers were banished from the towns, and made to live in some remote quarter, away from human beings — though themselves human. The galley slaves were made to tug at the oar until they expired in misery. Criminals were crowded together without regard to age or sex, until the prisons of Europe became the very sink of iniquity. Some four hundred years ago criminals were given over to be vivisected alive by the surgeons of Florence and Pisa. Their place has now been taken by dumb brutes. We hear of the dungeons and chains in the castles of chivalry; but what tales of misery and of cruelty are unfolded before the legal tribunals of the moderns ! Search the annals of the poor in our great cities, and how often will you have to say with Jeremy Taylor, " This is an uncharitableness next to the cruelties of savages, and an infinite distance from the mercies of Jesus ! " The benevolent spirit of John Howard was first directed to the reform of prisons by a personal adventure of a seemingly accidental nature. He was on a voyage to Portugal at a time when Lisbon was an object of painful interest — still smoking in ruins from the effects of the memorable earthquake. He had not proceeded far on his voyage when the packet in which he had embarked was captured by a French privateer. He was treated with great cruelty. He was allowed no food or water for forty-eight hours; and after landing at Brest he was imprisoned in the castle with the rest of the captives. They were cast into a filthy dun- geon, and were kept for a considerable time longer without food. At length a joint of mutton was flung into the den, which the unhappy men were forced to tear in pieces, and gnaw like wild beasts. The prisoners experienced the same cruel treatment for a week, and were compelled to lie on the floor of the horrible dungeon, with nothing but straw to shelter them from the noxious and pestilential damps of the place. Every Prison Was a Hell. Howard was at last set at liberty, and returned to England; but he gave himself no rest until he had succeeded in liberating many of his fellow-prisoners. He then opened a correspondence with English prisoners in other jails and fortresses ok the Continent; and found that sufferings as bad, or even greater than his own, were the common lot of the captives. Shortly after his attention was called to the state of English prisons, in the course of his duties as High Sheriff of the County of Bedford. This office is usually an hono- rary one, leading merely to a little pomp and vain show. But with Howard it was differ- ent. To be appointed to an office was with THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. him to incur the obligation to fulfil its duties. He sat in court and listened attentively to the proceedings. When the trials were over he visited the prison in which the criminals were confined. There he became acquainted with the shamefijl and brutal treatment of malefactors. The sight that met his eyes in prison revealed to him the nature of his future life-mission. The prisons of England, as well as of other countries, were then in a frightful state. The prisoners were neither separated nor classified. The comparatively innocent and the abom- inably guilty were herded together ; so that common jails became the hotbeds of crime. The hungry man who stole a loaf of bread found himself in contact with the burglar or the murderer. The debtor and the forger — the petty thief and the cut-throat — the dis- honest girl and the prostitute — were all mixed together. Swearing, cursing, and blaspheming pervaded the jail. Religious worship was unknown. The place was made over to Beelzebub. The devil was king. Disease and Death. Howard thus simply tells his impressions as to the treatment of prisoners: "Some who by the verdict of juries were declared not guilty — some on whom the grand jury did not find such an appearance of guilt as subjected them to a trial — and some whose prosecutors did not appear against them — after having been confined for months, were dragged back to jail, and locked up again until they should pay sundry fees to the jailer, the clerk of assize, and such like." He also remarked that the "hard-hearted creditors," who sometimes threatened their debtors that they should rot in jail, had indeed a very truthful significance ; for that in jail men really did rot — literally sinking and festering from filth and malaria. Howard estimated that, numerous as were the lives sacrificed on the gallows, quite as many fell victims to cold and damp, disease and hunger. The jailers' salaries were not paid by the public, but by the discharged innocents. Howard pleaded with the justices of the peace that a salary should be paid to the jailer. He was asked for a precedent. He said he would find one. He mounted his horse, and rode throughout the country for the precedent. He visited county jails far and near. He did not find a precedent for the payment of a salary to the jailer, but he found an amount of wretchedness and misery prevailing among the prisoners, which de- termined him to devote himself to the reformation of the jails of England and of the world. Chained on their Backs. At Gloucester he found the castle in the most horrible condition. The castle had become the jail. It had a common court for all the prisoners, male and female. The debtors' ward had no windows. The night room for men felons was close and dark. A fever had prevailed in the jail, which carried off many of the prisoners. The keeper had no salary. The debtors had no allowance of food. In the city of Ely the accommodation was no better. To prevent the prisoners' escape they were chained on their backs to the floor. Several bars of iron were placed over them, and an iron collar covered with spikes was fastened round their necks. At Norwich the cells were built under ground, and the pris- oners were given an allowance of straw, which cost a guinea a year. The jailer not only had no salary, but he paid two hundred dollars a year to the under-sheriff for his situation ! He made his income by extortion, Howard went on from place to place. THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 167 inspired by his noble mission. The idea of ameliorating the condition of prisoners en- grossed his whole thoughts, and possessed him like a passion. No toil, nor danger, nor bodily suffering could turn him from the great object of his life. He went from one end of England to the other, in order to drag forth to the light the disgusting mysteries of the British prison-houses. In many cases he gave freedom to such as were confined for some petty debt, and to many others who were utterly guiltless of crime. Light in the Dungeons. Upon the conclusion of his survey the House of Commons resolved itself into a ■committee, in order to ascertain the actual state of the case. He appeared before it, laden with his notes. In the course of the inquiry a member, surprised at the extent and minuteness of his information, inquired at whose expense he had travelled. Howard was almost choked before he could reply. The thanks of the Legislature were given him at the close of his evidence. They fol- lowed in the track which he had pointed out. Bills were passed abohshing all fees, provid- ing salaries for the jailers, and ordering all prisoners to be discharged immediately upon acquittal. It was also directed that all jails should be cleansed, whitewashed, and venti- lated; that infirmaries should be erected for the healing and maintenance of prisoners ; and that proper jails should be built. How- ard was confined to his bed while the bills passed ; but so soon as he had recovered from the illness and fatigue to which his self- imposed labors had subjected him, he rose again, and revisited the jails, for the purpose of ascertaining that the Acts were duly carried out. Having exhausted England, Howard pro- ceeded into Scotland and Ireland, and in- spected the jails in those countries. He found them equally horrible, and published the results of his inquiries with equal suc- cess. Then he proceeded to the Continent, to inquire into the prison accommodation there. At Paris the gates of the Bastille were closed against him ; but as respects the other French prisons, though they were bad enough, they were far superior to those of England. When it was ascertained that Howard was making inquiries about the Bastille, an order was issued for his impris- onment, but he escaped in time. He re- venged himself by publishing an account of the State prison, translated from a work recently published, which he obtained after great difficulty and trouble. His Errand of Love. Howard travelled onward to Belgium, Holland and Germany. He made notes everywhere, and obtained a large amount of information — the result of enormous labor. After returning to England, to see that the work of prison reform had taken root, he proceeded to Switzerland, on the same errand of love. He there found the science of prison discipline revealed. The prisoners were made to work, not only for their own benefit, but to diminish the taxes levied for the maintenance of prisons. After three years of indefatigable work, during which he travelled more than thir- teen thousand miles, Howard published his great work on "The State of Prisons." It was received with great sensation. He was again examined by the House of Commons as to the further measures required for the reformation of prisoners. He recommended houses of correction. He had observed one at Amsterdam, which he thought might be taken as a model. He again proceeded thither to ascertain 168 THE GREATEST OF THESE IS CHARITY." its method of working. From Holland he went to Prussia; crossed Silesia, through the opposing ranks of the armies of Austria and Prussia. He spent some time at Vienna, and proceeded to Italy. At Rome he applied for admission to the dungeons of the Inquisition. But, as at the Bastille in France, the gates of the Inquisition were closed against him. All others were opened. He returned home through France, having travelled four thou- sand six hundred miles during this tour. A Man and W^oman Whipped. Wherever he went he was received with joy. The blessings of the imprisoned fol- lowed him. He distributed charity with an open hand. But he did more. He opened the eyes of the thoughtful and the charitable of all countries to the importance of prison reform. He never resi.ed. He again visited the prisons in Great Britain, travelling nearly seven thousand miles. He found that his previous efforts had done some good. The flagrant abuses which he had before observed had been removed; and the jails were cleaner, healthic" and more orderly. He made another foreign tour to amplify his know- leoge. He had visited the jails of the southern countries of Europe. He now resolved to visit those of Russia. He entered Petersburg alone and on foot. The police discovered him, and he was invited to visit the Empress Catharine at Court. He respectfully informed her Majesty that he had come to Russia to visit the dungeons of the captives and the abodes of the wretched, not the palaces and courts of kings and queens. Armed with power, he went to see the infliction of the knout. A man and woman were brought out. The man received sixty strokes, and the woman twenty-five. "I saw the woman," says Howard, "in a very weak condition some days after, but could not find the man any more." Determined to ascertain what had become of him, How- ard visited the executioner. "Can you," he said, "inflict the knout so as to occasion death in a very short time?" "Yes!" "In how short a time?" "In a day or two." "Have you ever so inflicted it?" "I have!" "Have you lately?" "Yes! the last man who was punished by my hand with the knout died of the punishment." " In what manner do you thus render it mortal?" "By one or two strokes on the sides, which, carry off large pieces of flesh." " Do you receive orders thus to inflict the punish- ment?" "I do!" Thus the boast of Russia that capital punishments had been abolished throughout the empire was effectually exposed. The Prisoners' Friend. He wrote from Moscow that "no less than seventy thousand recruits for the army and navy have died in the Russian hospitals dur- ing a single year." Now, Howard was an accurate man, incapable of saying anything but the truth ; and therefore, this horrible fact cannot but heighten our detestation both .ofwar and of despotism. From Russia he travelled home by way of Poland, Prussia, Honover, and the Austrian Netherlands. He also travelled for the same purpose through Spain and Portugal. He published the results of his travels in a second appendix to his great work. Twelve years had now passed since How- ard had given himself up to the absorbing pursuit of his life. He had travelled upward of forty-two thousand miles in visiting the jails of the chief towns and cities of Europe; and he had expended upward of one hun- dred and fifty thousand dollars in relieving THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 16& the prisoners, the sick and the friendless. He had not, however, finished his work. He determined to visit the countries where the plague prevailed, in order, if possible, to dis- cover a remedy for this frightful disease. His object was to go, in the first place, to Marseilles, through France. He set out for Paris. The French, re- membering his pamphlet on the Bastille, prohibited him from appearing on the soil of France. He disguised himself, and entered Paris. During the same night in which he arrived he was roused from his bed by the police. A lucky thought enabled him to dispose of them for a few minutes, during which he rose, dressed himself, escaped from the house, and was forthwith on his way to Marseilles. He there obtained admission to the Lazaretto, and obtained the information which he required. His Last Journey. He sailed for Smyrna, where the plague was raging. From thence the resolute philanthropist sailed to the Adriatic by an infected vessel, in order that he might be subjected to the strictest quarantine. He took the fever, and lay in quarantine for forty days — suffering fearfully, without help, alone in his misery. At length he recovered, and made his way home to England. He visited his country estate, provided for the poor of the neighborhood, and parted from his humble friends as a father from his children. He had one more journey to make. It was his last. His intention was to extend his inquiries on the subject of the plague. He proceeded through Holland, Germa:ny, and Russia, intending to go to Turkey, Egypt, and the States of Barbary. But he was only able to travel as far as Kherson, in Russian Tartary There, as usual, he visited the prisoners, and caught the jail fever. Alone, among strangers, he sickened and died in his sixty-fourth year. To one who was by his bedside, he marked a spot in a churchyard in Dauphiny, where he wished to be buried. " Lay me quietly in the earth, place a sun-dial over my grave, and let me be forgotten." But the noble Howard will not be forgotten so long as the memory of man lasts. He was the benefactor of the most miserable of men. He thought nothing of himself, but only of those who without him would have been friendless and unhelped. In his own time he achieved a remarkable degree of success. But his influence did not die with him, for it has continued to influence not only the legislation of England, but of all civilized nations, down to the present time. Burke thus described him : " He visited all Europe to dive into the depths of dun- geons; to plunge into the infection of hospitals ; to survey the mansions of sorrow and pain; to take the gauge and dimensions of misery, depression, and contempt; to remember the forgotten; to attend the neglected ; to visit the forsaken; to compare and collect the distresses of all men in all countries. His plan is original, and it is as full of genius as it is of humanity. It is a voyage of discovery, a circumnavigation of charity; and already the benefit of his labor is felt more or less in every country." Works of Philanthropy. From realm to realm, with cross or crescent crowned. Where'er mankind and misery are found, O'er burning sands, deep waves, or wilds of snow, Mild Howard journeying seeks the house of woe. Down many a winding step to dungeons dank, Where anguish wails aloud and fetters clank. To caves bestrewed with many a mouldering bone. And cells whose echoes only learn to groan, Where no kind bars a whispering friend disclose, No sunbeam enters, and no zephyr blows ; 170 THE GREATEST OF THESE IS CHARITY." He treads, inemulous of fame or wealth, Profuse of toil and prodigal of health ; Leads stern-eyed Justice to the dark domains, If not to sever, to relax the chains ; Gives to her babes the self-devoted wife, To her fond husband liberty and life- Onward he moves ! disease and death retire, And murmuring demons hate him and admire. E. Darwin. The example of this great benefactor of his race is convincing proof of what may be accomplished by one brave man, acting out the law of kindness and brotherly love. Every individual may show the same spirit in the sphere he occupies, whether great or small. Mrs. Fry in Newgate Prison. From the time of Howard the treatment of prisoners has been greatly improved. At first it was only benevolent persons who aimed at their improvement, such as Sarah Martin, Mrs. Fry and other kindred spirits. Sydney Smith mentions that on one occasion he requested permission to accompany Mrs. Fry to Newgate Prison, London. He was so moved by the sight that he wept like a child. Referring to the subject afterward, in a sermon, he said, '"There is a spectacle which this town now exhibits that I will venture to call the most solemn, the most Christian, the most affecting which any human being ever witnessed. To see that holy woman in the midst of the wretched prisoners; to see them all calling earnestly upon God, soothed by her voice, animated by her look, clinging to the hem of her garment, and worshipping her as the only being who has ever loved them, or taught them, or noticed them, or spoken to them of God ! This is the sight that breaks down the pageant of the world; which tells them that the short hour of life is passing away, and that we must prepare by some good deeds to meet God ; that it is time to give, to pray, to comfort; to go, like this blessed woman, and do the work of our heavenly Saviour, Jesus, among the guilty, among the broken-hearted and the sick, and to labor in the deepest and the darkest wretch- edness of life." Mrs. Fry succeeded, by her persevering efforts, in effecting a complete reformation in the state of the prison, and in the conduct of the female prisoners; insomuch that the grand jury, in their report, after a visit to Newgate, state, "that if the principles which govern her regulations were adopted toward the males as well as the females, it would be the means of converting a prison into a school of reform; and instead of sending criminals back into the world hardened in vice and depravity, they would be repentant, and probably become useful members of society." A Friend of Boys and Girls. Mrs. Tatnall also, a woman less known than Mrs. Fry, devoted herself to the reformation and improvement of the pris- oners in Warwick jail, of which her husband was governor. Many a criminal was brought back by her from the ways of vice to those of virtue and industry. Boys and girls, being younger in iniquity, were the especial subjects of her care. She was almost in- variably successful in her efforts to restore them to society. But individual help could do but little in improving or reclaiming the mass of pris- oners. It was only by the help of the Legis- lature that so large a question could be treated. One of the chief objects of legisla- tion is to prevent crime by removing the inducements to commit it; and the main object of prison discipline is to reform the moral condition of the criminal, and to lead THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 1?\ him back to the bosom of the society against which he has sinned. This, as a matter of justice, is due to the criminal, who is too often made so by the circumstances in which he has been brought up, by his want of training, and by the unequal laws which society has enacted. Before, society took its revenge upon criminals, and treated them like wild beasts ; now, a milder treatment is adopted, with a view to their reclamation. The governors of the Sing Sing Penitentiary, in the State of New York, led the way in the reforma- tory treatment of criminals. Their attention was directed to the subject by the reports of Mr. Edmonds. Sympathy and Kindness. He said that "he had no faith whatever in the system of violence which had so long prevailed in the world — the system of tor- menting criminals into what was called good order, and of never appealing to anything better than the base sentiment of fear. He had seen enough in his own experience to convince him that, degraded as they were, they had still hearts that could be touched by kindness, consciences that might be aroused by appeals to reason, and aspirations for a better course of life, which needed only the cheering voice of sympathy and hope, to be strengthened into permanent reformation." A new system of criminal treatment was, accordingly, in conformity with Mr. Ed- monds's recommendations, commenced at Sing Sing prison, and was soon attended by the happiest effects. The rule now was, to punish as sparingly as possible, and to en- courage where there was any desire for improvement. Many criminals, formerly regarded as irreclaimable, were thus restored to society as useful and profitable citizens, and but a very small proportion of these were found to relapse into their former habits. The system was found especially successful in the case of women. One of the matrons addressed them in the chapel on the duty of self-government, and the necessity of a reformation of character if they wished to escape from misery, either in this world or the next. "The effect of this little experi- ment," says the matron, in an after statement, "has been manifest in the more quiet and gentle movements of the prisoners, in their softened and subdued tones of voice, and in their ready and cheerful obedience. It has deepened my conviction that, however de- graded by sin, or hardened by outrage or wrong, while reason maintains its empire over the mind, there is no heart so callous or obdurate that the voice of sympathy and kindness may not reach it, or so debased as to give no responses to the tone of Christian love." Story of Captain Pillsbury. Captain Pillsbury, warden of Weathersfield prison, in Connecticut, was also remarkably successful in his treatment and reclamation of criminals by humane methods. He pos- sessed a moral courage which approached almost to the sublime. Previous to his appointment the usual harsh mode of treat- ment was enforced, with the usual hardening and debasing effects upon the prisoners, producing in them a " deep-rooted and settled malignity." Crime was increasing in enormity, and the prison was every year running the State into deeper debt. Captain Pillsbury completely altered the mode of treatment ; he directed his efforts to the reformation of the prisoners by means of kind treatment. He encouraged them in a course of good conduct; he cheered them on in their return to virtue. He at once liberated the worst convicts from the degrada- 172 THE GREATEST OF THESE IS CHARITY." His treatment of one of the prisoners was remarkable. The man was of herculean proportions, a prison-breaker, the terror of tion of irons, and told them he would trust them! The policy was magical in its effects. The men gave him their confidence; they manifested the greatest respect for his rule; order and regularity prevailed in the prison ; and the institution soon began to pay for itself b t' own labor. the country, and had plunged deeper and deeper into crime for seventeen years. Cap- tain Pillsbury told him when he came that he hoped he would not repeat the attempts THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 173 at escape which he had made elsewhere. " I will make you as comfortable as I possibly can, and shall be anxious to be your friend ; and I hope you will not get me into any difficulty on your account. There is a cell intended for solitary confinement, but we never use it ; and I should be very sorry ever to turn the key upon anybody in it. You may range the place as freely as I do if you will trust me as I shall trust you." "You Treat Me Like a Man." The man was sulky, and for weeks showed only very gradual symptoms of softening under Captain Pillsbury's influence. At length information was given him that the man intended to break out of poison. The captain called him, and taxed him with it ; the man preserved a gloomy silence. He was told that it was now necessary that he should be locked up in the solitary cell. The captain, who was a small, slight man, went before, and the giant followed. When they had reached the narrowest part of the passage the governor turned round with his lamp, and looked in the criminal's face. " Now," said he, " I ask you whether you have treated me as I deserve? I have done everything I could think of to make you comfortable ; I have trusted you, and you have never given me the least confidence in return, and have even planned to get me into difficulty. Is this kind? And yet I cannot bear to lock you up, if I had the least sign that you cared for me." The man burst into tears. "Sir," said he, " I have been a very devil these seventeen years; but you treat me like a man." "Come, let us go back," said the captain. The convict had the free range of the prison as before. From this hour he began to open his heart to the captain, and cheerfully ful- iilled his whole term of imprisonment. confiding to his friend, as they arose, all impulses to violate his trust, and all facilities for doing so which he imagined he saw. Captain Pillsbury is the warden who, on being told that a desperate prisoner had sworn to murder him, speedily sent for him to shave him, allowing no one to be present. He eyed the man, pointed to the razor, and desired him to shave him. The prisoner's hand trembled, but he went through it very well. When he had done the captain said, " I have been told you meant to murder me, but I thought I might trust you." "God bless you, sir ! " replied the regenerated man. Such is the power of faith in man. Major Goodell, governor of the State Prison at Auburn, New York, and Mr. Isaac T. Hopper, another prison inspector, were equally successful in the treatment and re- clamation of criminals. Of fifty individuals whom this last-named admirable man suc- ceeded in reclaiming, only two relapsed into bad habits — a fact which speaks volumes in favor of the power of gentleness. A Kind Word. " Oh ! there has many a tear been shed. And many a heart been broken, For want of a gentle hand stretched forth. Or a word in kindness spoken. Then O ! with brotherly regard Greet every son of sorrow ; So from each tone of love his heart New hope, new strength, shall borrow." "Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal." Who is My Neighbor. Thy "neighbor? " It is he whom thou Hast power to aid or bless. Whose aching heart or burning brow Thy soothing hand may press. Thy ' ' neighbor? ' ' 'Tis the fainting poor, Whose eye with want is dim, k 174 THE GREATEST OF THESE IS CHARITY." Whom hunger sends from door to door, — Go thou and succor him. Thy ' ' neighbor? " 'Tis that weary man Whose years are at their brim, Bent low with sickness, care, and pain, — Go thou and comfort him. Thy ' ' neighbor ? " 'Tis the heart bereft Of every earthly gem, Widow and orphan helpless left, — Go thou and shelter them. Thy " neighbor? " Yonder toiling slave, Fettered in thought and limb. Whose hopes are all beyond the grave, — Go thou and ransom him. Where'er thou meet'st a human form Less favored than thy own, Remember, 'tis thy neighbor worm, Thy brother or thy son. Oh ! pass not, pass not heedless by ! Perhaps thou canst redeem The breaking heart from misery, — Go share thy lot Adth him. Randolph Bartholomay. A circumstance is mentioned by the natu- ralist Audubon, is occurring within his knowledge a few years ago, of a certain individual who for many years had led the life of a pirate. On one occasion, while cruising along the cost of Florida, he landed, and was lying in the shade on the bank of a creek, when his attention was arrested by the soft and mournful note of a Zenaida dove. As he listened, each repetition of the melan- choly sound seemed to him a voice of pity; it seemed to him like a voice from the past, a message from childhood's innocent and sunny hours ; then it appeared like a voice of deep, sad sorrow for him, the far-off wan- derer, the self-ruined, guilty prodigal; and so thoroughly did it rouse him from his long sleep of sin, that there, on that lonely spot, where no minister of mercy had ever stood, he resolved within himself to renounce his guilty life, return to virtuous society, and seek the mercy of God — a resolution which he subsequently fulfilled, as we are assured by the narrator. There is that in the human heart which responds to the voice of gentle, pitying love, when all other agencies have losf their power; when all the thunder and lightning of Sinai itself might roll and glitter in vain. Would that there were more, among those disposed to do good, who would make full proof of the omnipotence of the spirit of kindness, pity, and love. The Spirit of Jesus must be the model of our benevolence. "What Gentleness Can Do. Here is aiender story my eye fell on some time since. A little fellow, ten years old, was pulling a heavy cart, loaded with pieces of broken board and lath taken from some structure which had been pulled down. Such a sight is common enough in any of our large cities. He was evidently very tired. He wanted to rest himself beneath a shade-tree. The little fellow's feet were bruised and sore; his clothing was rags; his face was pinched and pale, and on it was falling that pathetic look of maturity and care you so often see shadowing the faces of children among the very poor. The poor boy lay down on the grass beneath the tree, and in five minutes he was fast asleep. His bare feet just touched the curbstone; his old hat fell from his head and rolled on to the sidewalk. And if you had looked into that upturned face you would have seen printed on it the marks of scanty food, of insufficient clothing, of a childhood untouched of love and sunshine, of strength too early strained in this sad battle of life. Then a curious thing took place. An old man, bowed and poor enough himself, and with a wood-saw on his arm, crossed the THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 175 street for the shade of the same tree. He glanced at the boy, turned away, glanced again, seemed to read the pitiful writing on the boy's face and to interpret it from his own experience. Then he went softly on tip-toe, bent over the boy, took from his pocket his own scant dinner — a bit of bread and meat — and laid it down beside the lad, then walked quickly and quietly away, look- ing back every moment, but keeping himself out of sight, as though he would escape thanks. But other passers-by had noticed now the sleeping-boy, attracted by the kindly ma- noeuvering of the old man. He had said no word whatever. He had simply done his gentle deed and gone on. The Old Wood-Sawyer Did it All. But now a man walked down from his steps and left a half-dollar beside the poor man's bread and meat; a woman came and left a good hat in the place of the old one ; a child came with a pair of shoes, and a boy with a coat and vest. Others of the passing throng upon the street halted, whispered, dropped dimes and quarters besides the first piece of silver. Suddenly the little pinched-faced fellow awoke, startled, as if it were a crime to sleep there. He saw the bread, the clothing, the money, the score of people waiting with their kindly faces. He saw it was all tangi- ble and not a dream. Then he sat down, covered his thin face with his thin hands, and sobbed aloud. From the old wood- sawyer, with pocket empty of his dinner but with heart filled with beneficence, cer- tainly had gone forth a most controlling and loving might, compelling all these helpers of the waif of the city streets; while sleep, for a time, put its blessing on the pitiful young-old face. No Dearth of Kindness. There's no dearth of kindness In this world of ours ; Onlj' in our blindness We gather thorns for flowers ! Outward, we are spuming. Trampling one another ! While we are inly yearning At the name of ' ' Brother ! " There's no dearth of kindness Or love among mankind, But in darkling loneness Hooded hearts grow blind ! Full of kindness tingling, Soul is shut from soul. When they might be mingling In one kindred whole ! There's no dearth of kindness. Though it be unspoken, From the heart it sendeth Smiles of heaven, in token That there be none so lowly But have some angel- touch : Yet, nursing loves unholy, We live for self too much ! As the wild-rose bloweth, As runs the happy river, Kindness freely floweth In the heart forever ; But if men will hanker Ever for golden dust, Best of hearts will canker, Brightest spirits rust. There's no dearth of kindness In this world of ours ; Only ill our blindness We gather thorns for flowers. O cherish God's best giving. Falling from above ! Life were not worth living, Were it not for love. Gerai,d Massey. During one of our early American wars, a company of Delaware Indians attacked a small detachment of British troops, and defeated them. As the Indians had greatly the advantage of swiftness of foot, and were eager in the pursuit, very few of the fugi- L 17« THE GREATEST OF THESE IS CHARITY." tives escaped; and those who fell into the enemy's hands were treated with a cruelty of which there are not many examples even in this country. Two of the Indians came up with a young officer, and attacked him with great fury. As they were armed with tomahawks, he had no hope of escape, and thought only of selling his life as dearly as he could; but just at this crisis, another Indian came up, who seemed to be advanced in years, and was armed with a bow and arrows. The Old Indian With a Bow. The old man instantly drew his bow; but having taken aim at the officer, he suddenly dropped the point of his arrow, and inter- posed between him and his pursuers, who were about to cut him to pieces. They retired with respect. The old man then took the officer by the hand, soothed him into confidence by caresses; and having conducted him to his hut, treated him with a kindness which did honor to his profes- sions. He made him less a slave than a companion, taught him the language of the country, and instructed him in the rude arts that are practiced by the inhabitants. They lived together in the most cordial amity: and the young officer found nothing to regret, but that sometimes the old man fixed his eyes upon him, and having regarded him for some minutes with a steady and silent attention, burst into tears. In the meantime, the spring returned, and the Indians having recourse to their arms, again took the field. The old man, who was still vigorous, and well able to bear the fatigues of war, set out with them, and was accom- panied by his prisoner. They marched several hundred miles across the forest, and came at length to a plain where the British forces were encamped. The old man showed his prisoner the tents at a distance — at the same time re- marked his countenance with the most dili- gent attention : "There," said he, "are your countrymen ; there is the enemy who wait to give us battle. Remember that I have saved thy life, that I have taught thee to construct a canoe, and to arm thyself with a bow and arrow, to surprise the beaver in the forest, to wield the tomahawk, and to scalp the enemy. What wast thou when I first took thee to my hut? Thy hands were those of an infant; they were fit neither to procure thee sustenance nor safety. Thy soul was in utter darkness; thou wast ignorant of everything; and thou owest all things to me. Wilt thou then go over to thy nation, and take up the hatchet against us ? " The Captive Released. The officer replied, that he would rather lose his own life than take away that of his deliverer. The Indian then bending down his head, and covering his face with both his hands, stood some time silent; then looking earnestly at the prisoner, he said, in a voice that was at once softened by tenderness and grief, "Hast thou a father?" "My father," said the young man, "was alive when I left my country." "Alas," said the Indian, "how wretched he must be!" He paused a moment, and then added, " Dost thou know that I have been a father? — I am a father no more — I saw my son fall in battle — he fought by my side — I saw him expire; but he died like a man — he was covered with wounds when he fell dead at my feet — but I have revenged him." He prononnced these words with the utmost vehemence; his body shook with a universal tremor, and he was almost stifled with sighs that he would not suffer to escape THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 177 him. There was a keen restlessness in his eye, but no tear would flow to his reHef. At length he became calm by degrees, and turn- ing towards the east, where the sun was then rising, "Dost thou see," said he to the young officer, "the beauty of that sky, which sparkles with prevailing day? and hast thou pleasure in the sight?" "Yes," replied the officer, "I have pleasure in the beauty of so fine a sky." "I have none," said the Indian; and his tears then found their way. A few minutes afterwards he showed the young man a magnolia in full bloom. "Dost thou see that beautiful tree? " said he, "and dost thou look upon it with pleasure?" "Yes," repHed the officer, "I do look with pleasure upon that beautiful tree." "I have pleasure in looking upon it no more," said the Indian hastily; and im- mediately added, "Go, return back, that thy father may still have pleasure when he sees the sun rise in the morning, and the trees blossom in the spring." What a power is that of love ! The world would be poor without it. Let love burn ; let it toil and weep. It is sunshine and beauty. It is the brightest glory of any life. DEEDS OF KINDNESS. Let some noble deed be, thine Before the day is ended ; Ere the sun doth cease to shine, Ere on thy bed thou dost recline, Go where the fevered brow doth pine, And see its wants attended, And learn that in its restless dream It craves the pure and limpid stream, And know that in its fitful madness It drains the cooling draught with gladness : And the parched lips will bless thee For the deed of kindness shown, While some other tongue will tell thee 'Twas not done to one alone ; For an Eye that never sleepeth Beheld the action from his throne. Let some tearful eye be dried Before the day is ended ; Take the wanderer to thy side, But his sad folly ne'er deride ; A multitude of sins thou'lt hide. In some poor soul befriended, And learn that in his reckless race Ofttimes the pathway he will trace To some harsh words, unkindly spoken, And which his sobbing heart hath broken. Pour the balm of consolation ; While the listening ear is shown, Wound it not by ostentation ; Do thy Master's work alone, Remembering He ever keepeth A faithful record on his throne. Let some hungry child be fed Before the day is ended ; Go ! the orphan cries for bread. Where squallor reigns in all its dread, And where the widow's mournful tread Should with thy steps be blended, And see where vice and misery haunt, Where shrivelled babe and woman gaunt Are stretched on beds where filth is reeking, And tottering age with ruffians greeting ; Perhaps a word of thine may cheer Some sad heart whose hope had flown, And bid it cast aside its fear For a love before unknown. Seeking Him who ever meeteth A suppliant at Mercy's throne. Richard Penrose. I THE WELCOME RETURN. 178 CHAPTER X. LOOKING ON THE BRIGHT SIDE. SINGLE bitter word may disquiet an entire family for a whole day. One surly glance casts a gloom over the household, while a smile, like a gleam of sunshine, may light up the darkest and weariest hours. Like unex- pected flowers, which spring up along our path, full of freshness, fragrance and beauty, do kind words and gentle acts and sweet dis- positions, make glad the home where peace and blessing dwell. No matter how humble the abode, if it be thus garnished with grace and sweetened with kindness and smiles, the heart will turn lovingly toward it from all the tumult of the world, and it will be the dearest spot beneath the circuit of the sun. And the influences of home perpetuate themselves. The gentle grace of the mother lives in the daughter long after her head is pillowed in the dust of death ; and the fatherly kindness finds its echo in the nobility and courtesy of sons, who come to wear his mantle and to fill his place ; while, on the other hand, from an unhappy, misgoverned, and disordered home, go forth persons who shall make other homes miserable, and per- petuate the sourness and sadness, the conten- tions and strifes and railings which have made their own early lives so wretched and dis- torted. There are people who are snapping-turtles in the form of human beings. They are sour, morose, gloomy, always looking on the dark side. They give one the chills. Toward the cheerful home, the children gather "as clouds and as doves to their windows," while from the home which is the abode of discontent and strife and trouble, they fly forth as vultures to rend their prey. Be of Good Cheer. There never was a day so long It did not have an end ; There never was a man so poor He did not have a friend ; And when the long day finds an end It brings the time of rest, And he who has one steadfast friend Should count himself as blest. There never was a cloud that hid The sunlight all from sight ; There never was a life so sad It had not some delight. Perchance for us the sun at last May break the dark cloud througJi, And life may hold a happiness That never yet it knew. So let's not be discouraged, friend. When shadows cross our way. Of trust and hope I've some to lend ; So borrow from me, pray. Good friends are we, therefore not poor,. Though worldly wealth we lack ; Behold the sun shines forth at last, And drives the dark clouds back ! Eben E. Rexford. The class of men who disturb and distress the world, are not those born and nurtured amid the hallowed influences of Christian homes ; but rather those whose early life has been a scene of trouble and vexation — who started wrong and whose course is one of disaster and trouble. 179 180 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. God bless the cheerful person — man, woman or child, old or young, illiterate or educated, handsome or homely. Over and above every other social trait stands cheer- fulness. What the sun is to nature, what the stars are to night, what God is to the stricken heart which knows how to lean upon him, are cheerful persons in the house and by the wayside. Man recognizes the magic of a cheerful influence in woman more quickly and more willingly than the potency of dazzling genius, of commanding worth, or even of enslaving beauty. New Beauty Everywhere. If we are cheerful and contented, all nature smiles with us ; the air seems more balmy, the sky more clear, the ground has a brighter green, the trees have a richer foliage, the flowers a more fragrant smell, the birds sing more sweetly, and the sun, moon and stars all appear more beautiful. Cheerfulness ! How sweet in infancy, how lovely in youth, how saintly in age ! There are a few noble natures whose very presence carries sunshine with them wherever they go ; a sunshine which means pity for the poor, sympathy for the suffering, help for the unfortunate, and benignity toward all. How such a face enlivens every other face it meets, and carries into every company vivacity and joy and gladness ! But the scowl and frown, begotten in a selfish heart, and manifesting itself in daily, almost hourly fretfulness, complaining, fault- finding, angry criticisms, spiteful comments on the motives and actions of others, how they thin the cheek, shrivel the face, sour and sadden the countenance ! No joy in the heart, no nobility in the soul, no generosity in the nature ; the whole character as cold as an iceberg, as hard as Alpine rock, as arid as the wastes of Sahara ! Reader, which of these countenances are you cultivating? If you find yourself losing all your confidence in human nature, you are nearing an old age of vinegar, of wormwood and of gall ; and not a mourner will follow your solitary bier, not one tear-drop shall ever fall on your forgotten grave. Look at the bright side. Keep the sun- shine of a living faith in the heart. Do not let the shadow of discouragement and de- spondency fall on your path. However weary you may be, the promises of God will never cease to shine, like the stars at night, to cheer and strengthen. Learn to wait as well as labor. The best harvests are the longest in ripening. It is not pleasant to work in the earth plucking the ugly tares and weeds, but it is as necessary as sowing the seed. The Silver Lining. The harder the task, the more need of singing. A hopeful spirit will discern the silver lining of the darkest cloud, for back of all planning and doing, with its attendant discouragements and hindrances, shines the light of Divine promise and help. Ye are God's husbandmen. It is for you to be faithful. He gives the increase. Be cheerful, for it is the only happy life. The times may be hard, but it will make them no easier to wear a gloomy and sad countenance. It is the sunshine and not the cloud that makes the flower. There is always that before or around us which should fill the heart with warmth. The sky is blue ten times where it is black once. You have troubles, it may be. So have others. None are free from them. Perhaps it is as well that none should be. They give sinew and tone to life — ^fortitude and courage to man. That would be a dull sea, if always smooth, and the sailor would never get skill. 182 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. Life was meant to be joyous and glad. It is the duty of every one to extract all the happiness and enjoyment he can without and within him, and, above all, he should look on the bright side of things. What though things do look a little dark ? The lane will turn, and the night will end in broad day. In the long run, the great balance rights itself. What is ill becomes well ; what is wrong becomes right. Men are not made to liang down either heads or lips ; and those Avho do, only show that they are departing from the paths of true common sense and right. There is more virtue in one sunbeam than a whole hemisphere of cloud and gloom. Therefore, we repeat, look on the bright side of things. Cultivate what is warm and genial — not the cold and repulsive, the dark and morose. Don't neglect your duty; live down prejudice. "Good Morning." We always know the cheerful man by his hearty "good morning." As well might fog, and cloud, and vapor hope to cling to the sun illumined landscape, as the blues and moroseness to remain in any countenance Avhen the cheerful one comes with a hearty "' good morning." Dear reader, don't forget to say it. Say it to your parents, your brothers and sisters, your schoolmates, your teachers — and say it cheerfully and with a smile ; it will do you good, and do your friends good. There's a kind of inspiration in every "good morning," heartily and smilingly spoken, that helps to make hope fresher and work lighter. It seems really to make the morning good, and a prophecy of a good day to come after it. And if this be true of the "good morning," it is also of all kind, cheerful greetings; they cheer the discouraged, rest the tired one, and somehow make the wheels of time run more smoothly. Be liberal then, and let no morning pass, however dark and gloomy it may be, that you do not help at least to brighten it by your smiles and cheer- ful words. The cheerful are the busy; when trouble knocks at your door or rings the bell, he will generally retire if you send him word "engaged." And a busy life cannot well be otherwise than cheerful. Frogs do not croak in running water. And active minds are seldom troubled with gloomy forebod- ings. They come up only from the stag- nant depths of a spirit unstirred by generous impulses or the blessed necessities of honest toil. "Where Heroines are Found. What shall we say by way of commending that sweet cheerfulness by which a good and sensible woman diffuses the oil of gladness in the proper sphere of home. The best specimens of heroism in the world were never gazetted. They play their role in common life, and their reward is not in the admiration of spectators, but in the deep joy of their own conscious thoughts. It is easy for a housewife to make arrangements for an occasional feast; but let me tell you what is greater and better : amid the weariness and cares of hfe; the troubles, real and imagi- nary, of a family; the many thoughts and toils which are requisite to make the family home of thrift, order and comfort; the varieties of temper and cross-lines of taste and inclination which are to be found in a large household — to maintain a heart full of good nature and a face always bright with cheerfulness, this is a perpetual festivity. We do not mean a mere superficial simper, which has no more character in it than the flow of a brook, but that exhaustless patience, and 4 LOOKING ON THE BRIGHT SIDE. 183 self-control, and kindness, and tact which spring from good sense and brave purposes. Neither is it the mere reflection of prosperity, for cheerfulness, then, is no virtue. Its best exhibition is in the dark back-ground of real adversity. Affairs assume a gloomy aspect, poverty is hovering about the door, sickness has already entered, days of hardship and nights of watching go slowly by, and now you see the triumph of which we speak. When the strong man has bowed himself, and his brow is knit and creased, you will see how the whole life of the household seems to hang on the frailer form, which, with solicitudes of her own, passing, it may be, under the terrible shadow of a great sorrow, has an eye and an ear for every one but herself, suggestive of expedients, hopeful in extremities, helpful in kind words and affectionate smiles, morning, noon and night, the medicine, the light, the heart of a whole household. Choosing the Honey. The industrious bee stops not to complain that there are so many poisonous flowers and thorny branches in his road, but buzzes on, selecting the honey where he can find it, and passing quietly by the places where it is not. There is enough in this world to com- plain about and find fault with, if men have the disposition. We often travel on a hard and uneven road, but with a cheerful spirit and a heart to praise God for his mercies, we may walk therein with great comfort and come to the end of our journey in peace. Let us try to be like the sunshiny member of the family, who has the inestimable art to make all duty seem pleasant, all self-denial and exertion easy and desirable, even disap- pointment not so blank and crushing; who is like a bracing, crisp, frosty atmosphere throughout the home, without a suspicion of the element that chills and pinches, or benumbs the heart. You have known people within whose in- fluence you felt cheerful, amiable and hope- ful, equal to anything! I do not know a more enviable gift than the energy to sway others to. good ; to diffuse around us an at- mosphere of cheerfulness, piety, truthfulness, generosity, magnanimity. It is not a matter of great talent; not entirely a matter of great energy; but rather of earnestness and hon- esty, and of that quiet, constant energy which is like soft rain gently penetrating the soil. The Colt in Harness. If any man has springs of cheerfulness and of good nature in him, in the name of the God of benevolence let him not stop them up. Let him rather keep them open, that they may be a source of joy and consolation to his fellow-men. I have sometimes heard it said of young men, that before they joined the Church they were good fellows, but that afterward there was nothing in them. It is because some men think that religion con- sists in tying up the natural faculties. Q^ the contrary, it consists in untying them, in giving them a wholesome development, "and ' so making them better. We do not put a colt into the harness for the sake of diminishing his power, but sim- ply for the sake of directing it; and we are putting the harness on men, not to take away their power, but to organize it for use, and to make it more facile. And in regard to good cheer, humor, buoyancy of disposition, hope- fulness — if a man has it naturally, it is^an inestimable gift; and religion should make it more — not less. Give us, O give us the man who sings at his work ! Be his occupation what it may, he is equal to any of those who follow the same pursuit in silent sullenness. He will 184 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. do more in the same time — he will do it better — he will persevere longer. One is scarcely sensible of fatigue whilst he marches to music. The very stars are said to make harmony as they revolve in their spheres. Wondrous is the strength of cheerfulness, altogether past calculation its powers of endurance. Efforts, to be permanently use- ful, must be uniformly joyous — a spirit all sunshine — graceful from very gladness — beautiful because bright. Sunny People. There is many a rest in the road of life. If we only would stop to take it, And many a tone from the better land. If the querulous heart would wake it ! To the sunny soul that is full of hope. And whose beautiful trust ne'er faileth, The grass is green and the flowers are bright, Though the wintry storm prevaileth. Better to hope, though the clouds hang low, And to keep the eyes still lifted ; For the sweet blue sky will soon peep through, When the ominous clouds are rifted ! There was never a night without a day. Or an evening without a morning ; And the darkest hour, as the proverb goes, Is the hour before the dawning. There is many a gem in the path of life, Which we pass in our idle pleasure. That is richer far than the jeweled crown. Or the miser's hoarded treasure : It may be the love of a little child. Or a mother's praj^ers to Heaven ; Or only a beggar's grateful thanks For a cup of water given. Better to weave in the web of life A bright and golden filling, And do God's will with a ready heart And hands that are swift and willing, Than to snap the delicate, slender threads Of our curious lives asunder, And then blame Heaven for the tangled ends. And sit and grieve and wonder. If people will only notice, they will be amazed to find how much a really enjoyable evening owes to smiles. But few consider what an important symbol of fine intellect and fine feeling they are. Yet all smiles, after childhood, are things of education. Savages do not smile; coarse, brutal, cruel men may laugh, but they seldom smile. The affluence, the benediction, the radiance, which Fills the silence like a speech is the smile of a full appreciative heart. The face that grows finer as it listens, and then breaks into sunshine instead of words, has a subtle, charming influence, universally felt, though very seldom understood or ac- knowledged. Personal and sarcastic remarks show not only a bad heart and a bad head, but bad taste also. Now, society may tolerate a bad heart and a bad head, but it will not endure bad taste; and it is in just such points as this that the conventional laws which they have made, represent and enforce real obligations. There are many who would not cease from evil speaking because it is wrong, who yet restrain themselves because it is vulgar. Avoid Sarcasnl. Lord Bacon tells of a nobleman whom he knew — a man who gave lordly entertain- ments, but always suffered some sarcastic personality to "mar a good dinner," adding, "Discretion of speech is more than elo- quence; and to speak agreeably to him with whom we deal is more than to speak in good words; for he that hath a satirical vein, making others afraid of his wit, hath need to be afraid of another's memory." Some men move through life as a band of music moves down the street, flinging out pleasure on every side through the air to every one, far and near, that can listen. Some men fill the air "with their presence and sweetness, as orchards in October days A SONG TO CHEER. THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. fill the air with the perfume of ripe fruit. Some women cling to their own houses, like the honeysuckle over the door, yet, like it, sweeten all the region with the subtle fra- grance of their goodness. There are trees of righteousness, which are ever dropping precious fruit around them. There are lives that shine like star-beams, or charm the heart like songs sung upon a holy day. How great a bounty and blessing it is to hold the royal gifts of the soul, so that they shall be music to some and fragrance to others, and life to all ! It would be no unworthy thing to live for, to make the power which we have within us the breath of other men's joy; to scatter sunshine where only clouds and shadows reign; to fill the atmosphere where earth's weary toilers must stand, with a brightness which they cannot create for themselves, and which they long for, enjoy and appreciate. Finding Good in Ever3rthing. It has been said that men succeed in life quite as much by their temper as by their talents. However this may be, it is certain that their happiness in life depends mainly upon their equanimity of disposition, their patience and forbearance, and their kindness and thoughtfulness for those about them. It is really true as Plato says, that in seek- ing the good of others we find our own. There are some natures so happily consti- tuted that they can find good in everything. There is no calamity so great but they can educe comfort or consolation from it — no sky so black but they can discover a gleam of sun- shine issuing through it from some quarter or another; and if the sun be not visible to their eyes, they at least comfort themselves with the thought that it is there, though veiled from them for some good and wise purpose. Such happy natures are to be envied. They have a beam in the eye — a beam of pleasure, gladness, religious cheerfulness, philosophy, call it what you will. Sunshine is about their hearts, and their mind gilds with its own hues all that it looks upon. When they have burdens to bear, they bear thern cheerfully — not repining, nor fretting, nor wasting their energies in useless lamenta- tion, but struggling onward manfully, gath- ering up such flowers as lie along their path. The Best People Always Cheerful. Let it not for a moment be supposed that men such as those we speak of are weak and unreflective. The largest and most compre- hensive natures are generally also the most cheerful, the most loving, the most hopeful, the most trustful. It is the wise man, of large vision, who is the quickest to discern the moral sunshine gleaming through the darkest cloud. In present evil, he sees prospective good; in pain, he recognizes the effort of nature to restore health; in trials, he finds correction and discipline; and in sorrow and suffering, he gathers courage, knowledge and the best practical wisdom. When Jeremy Taylor had lost all — when his house had been plundered, and his family driven out-of-doors, and all his worldly estate had been sequestrated — he could still write thus: "I am fallen into the hands of publicans and sequestrators, and they have taken all from me ; what now ? Let me look about me. They have left me the sun and moon, a loving wife, and many friends to pity me, and some to relieve me ; and I can still discourse, and, unless I list, they have not taken away my merry countenance and my cheerful spirit, and a good conscience, they have still left me the providence of God, and all the promises of the Gospel, and my religion, and my hopes of heaven, and my LOOKING ON THE BRIGHT SIDE. 187 charity to them, too ; and still I sleep and digest, I eat and drink, I read and meditate. And he that hath so many causes of joy, and so great, is very much in love with sorrow and peevishness, if he chooses to sit down upon his little handful of thorns." A Happy Disposition. Although cheerfulness of disposition is very much a matter of inborn temperament, it is also capable of being trained and culti- vated like any other habit. We may make the best of life, or we may make the worst of it ; and it depends very much upon ourselves whether we extract joy or misery from it. There are always two sides of life on which we can look, according as we choose — the bright side or the gloomy. We can bring the power of the will to bear in making the choice, and thus cultivate the habit of being happy or the reverse. We can encourage the disposition of looking at the brightest side of things, instead of the darkest. And while we see the cloud, let us not shut our eyes to the silver lining. The beam in the eye sheds brightness, beauty, and joy upon Hfe in all its phases. It shines upon coldness, and warms it ; upon suffering, and comforts it; upon ignorance and enlightens it ; upon sorrow, and cheers it. The beam in the eye gives lustre to intellect, and brightens beauty itself With- out it the sunshine of life is not felt, flowers bloom in vain, -the marvels of heaven and earth are not seen or acknowledged, and creation is but a dreary, lifeless, soulless blank. While cheerfulness of disposition is a great source of enjoyment in life, it is also a great safeguard of character. A devotional writer of the present day, in answer to the question, How are we to overcome temptations ? says ; " Cheerfulness is the first thing, cheerfulness is the second, and cheerfulness is the third." It furnishes the best soil for the growth of goodness and virtue. It gives brightness of heart and elasticity of spirit. It is the com- panion of charity, the nurse of patience, the mother of wisdom. It is also the best of moral and mental tonics. "The best cordial of all," said Dr. Marshall Hall to one of his patients, "is cheerfulness." And Solomon has said that "a merry heart doeth good like medicine." The Best Remedy. When Luther was once applied to for a remedy against melancholy, his advice was : " Gayety and courage — innocent gayety, and rational, honorable courage — are the best medicine for young men, and for old men too ; for all men against sad thoughts." Next to music, if not before it, Luther loved children and flowers. The great gnarled man had a heart as tender as a woman's. Cheerfulness is also an excellent wearing quality. It has been called the bright weather of the heart. It gives harmony of soul, and is a perpetual song without words. It is tantamount to repose. It enables nature to recruit its strength; whereas worry and dis- content debilitate it, involving constant wear- and-tear. How is it that we see such men as Lord Palmerston, Gladstone, and Senator John Sherman of Ohio, growing old in harness, working on vigorously to the end ? Mainly through equanimity of temper and habitual cheerfulness. They have educated them- selves in the habit of endurance, of not being easily provoked, of bearing and forbearing, of hearing harsh and even unjust things said of them without indulging in undue resent- ment, and avoiding worrying, petty, and self-tormenting cares. An intimate friend of Lord Palmerston, If^' THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. v-nc observed him closely for twenty years, has said that he never saw him angry, with pernaps one exception ; and that was when the Ministry responsible for the calamity in Afghanistan, of which he was one, were un- justly accused by their opponents of falsehood, perjury, and willful mutilation of public docu- ments. So far as can be learned from biography, men of the greatest genius have been for the most part cheerful, contented men — not eager for reputation, money, or power — but relish- ing life, and keenly susceptible of enjoyment, fs we find reflected in their works. Steering Right Onward. Such seem to have been Homer, Horace, Virgil, Montaigne, Shakespeare, Cervantes. Healthy, serene cheerfulness is apparent in their great creations. Among the same class of cheerful-minded men may also be men- tioned Luther, More, Bacon, Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, and Michael Angelo. Per- haps they were happy because constantly occupied, and in the pleasantest of all work — that of creating out of the fulness and richness of their great minds. Milton, too, though a man of many trials and sufferings, must have been a man of great cheerfulness and elasticity of nature. Though overtaken by blindness, deserted by friends, and fallen upon evil days — "darkness before, and danger's voice behind" — yet did he not bate heart or hope, but " still bore up> and steered right onward." Dr. Johnson, through all his trials and sufferings and hard fights with fortune, was a courageous and cheerful natured man. He manfully made the best of life, and tried to be glad in it. Once, when a clergyman was com.plaining of the dulness of society in the country, saying "they only talk of runts" (young cows), Johnson felt flattered by the observation of Mrs. Thrale's mother, who said, " Sir, Dr. Johnson would learn to talk of runts" — meaning that he was a man who would make the most of his situation, what- ever it was. Johnson was of opinion that a man grew better as he grew older, and that his nature mellowed with age. This is certainly a much more cheerful view of human nature than that of Chesterfield, who saw life through the eyes of a cynic, and held that "the heart never grows better by age: it only grows harder." But both sayings may be true, according to the point from which life is viewed and the temper by which a man is governed ; for while the good, profiting by experience, and disciplining themselves by self-control, will grow better, the ill-condi- tioned, uninfluenced by experience, will only grow worse. The Man who can Laugh. Sir Walter Scott was a man full of the milk of human kindness. Everybody loved him. He was never five minutes in a room ere the little pets of the family, whether dumb or lisping, had found out his kindness for all their generation. Scott related to Captain Hall an incident of his boyhood which showed the tenderness of his nature. One day, a dog coming towards him, he took up a big stone, threw it, and hit the dog. The poor creature had strength enough left to crawl up to him an'd lick his feet, although he saw its leg was broken. The incident, he said, had given him the bitterest remorse in his after-life; but he added, "An early circumstance of that kind, properly reflected on, is calculated to have the best effect on one's character throughout life." "Give me an honest laugher," Scott would say; and he himself laughed the heart's LOOKING ON THE BRIGHT SIDE. 189' laugh. He had a kind word for everybody, and his kindness acted all round him like a contagion, dispelling the reserve and awe which his great name was calculated to inspire. " He'll come here," said the keeper of the ruins of Melrose Abbey to Washing- ton Irving — "he'll come here sometimes wi' great folks in his company, and the first I'll know of it is hearing his voice calling out, 'Johnny! Johnny Bower! ' And when I go out I'm sure to be greeted wi' a joke or a pleasant word. He'll stand and crack and laugh wi' me just like an auld wife; and to think that of a man that has such an awfu' knowledge o' history!" Dr. Arnold was a man of the same hearty cordiality of manner — full of human sym- pathy. There was not a particle of affectation or pretense of condescension about him. "I never knew such a humble man as the doctor," said the. parish clerk; " he comes and shakes us by the hand -as if he was one of us." "He used to come into my house," said an old woman, "and talk to me as if I were a lady." By the term "lady" she meant one of the "upper ten." An Example of Cheerfulness. Sydney Smith was another illustration of the power of cheerfulness. He was ever ready to look on the bright side of things ; the darkest cloud had to him its silver lining. Whether working as country curate or as parish rector, he was always kind, laborious, patient, and exemplary ; exhibiting in every sphere of life the spirit of a Christian, the kindness of a pastor, and the honor of a gentleman. In his leisure he employed his pen on the side of justice, freedom, education, toleration, emancipation ; and his writings, though full of common sense and bright humor, are never vulgar; nor did he ever pander to popularity or prejudice. His good spirits, thanks to his iiatuta.1 vivacity and stamina of constitution, never forsook him ; and in his old age, when borne down by disease, he wrote to a friend: "'I have gout, asthma, and seven other maladie.s, but am otherwise very well." In one of the last letters he wrote, he said: "If you hear of sixteen or eighteen pounds of flesh want- ing an owner, they belong to me. I look -^.s if a curate had been taken out of me,' Blind, but not Gloomy. Great men of science have for the most part been patient, laborious, cheerful -minded men. Such were Galileo, Descartes, ^Newton, and Laplace. Euler, the mathematician, one of the greatest of natural philosophers, was a distinguished instance. Towards the close of his life he became completely blind; but he went on writing as cheerfully as beiore, supplying the want of sight by various inge- nious mechanical devices, and by the increased cultivation of his memory, which became exceedingly tenacious. His chief pleasure was in the society of his grandchildren, to whom he taught their little lessons m the intervals of his severer studies. One of the sorest trials of a man's temper and patience was that which befell Abauzit, the natural philosopher, while residing at Geneva — resembling in many respects a similar calamity which occurred to Newton, and which he bore with equal resignation. Among other things, Abauzit devoted much study to the barometer and its variations, with the object of deducing the general laws which regulated atmospheric pressure. Dur- ing twenty-seven years he made numerous observations daily, recording them or sheets prepared for the purpose. One day, when a new servant was mstalled in the house, she immediately proceeded to display her zeal by "putting things to rights." 190 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. Abauzit's study, among other rooms, was made tidy and set in order. When he entered it, he asked of the servant, " What have you done with the paper that was round the barometer?" "Oh, sir," was the reply, "it was so dirty that I burnt it, and put in its place this paper, which you will see is quite new." Abauzit crossed his arms, and after some moments of internal struggle, he said, in a tone of calmness and resignation : " You have destroyed the results of twenty-seven years' labor; in future touch nothing what- ever in this room." Long-Lived Men. The study of natural history, more than that of any other branch of science, seems to be accompanied by unusual cheerfulness and equanimity of temper on the part of its votaries; the result of which is, that the life of naturalists is, on the whole, more pro- longed than that of any other class of men of science. A member of the Linnsean Society has informed us that, of fourteen members who died in 1870, two were over ninety, five were over eighty, and two were over seventy. The average age of all the members who died in that year was seventy- five. Adanson, the French botanist, was about seventy years old when the Revolution broke out, and amidst the shock he lost every- thing — his fortune, his places, and his gar- dens. But his patience, courage and resig- nation never forsook him. He became re- duced to the greatest straits, and even wanted food and clothing; yet his ardor of investi- gation remained the same. Once, when the Institute invited him, as being one of its oldest members, to assist at a seance, his answer was that he regretted he could not attend for want of shoes. " It was a touching sight," says Cuvier, "to see the poor old man, bent over the embers of a decaying fire, trying to trace characters with a feeble hand on the little bit of paper which he held, forgetting all the pains of life in some new idea in natural history, which came to him like some beneficent fairy to cheer him in his loneliness." The Government eventualy gave him a small pension, which Napoleon doubled; and at length easeful death came to his relief in his seventy-ninth year. A clause in his will, as to the manner of his funeral, illustrates the character of the man. He directed that a garland of flowers, provided by fifty-eight families whom he had established in life, should be the only decoration of his coffin — a slight but touching image of the more durable monument which he had erected for himself in his works. Always a Boy. Such are only a few instances of the cheerful work of great men, which might, indeed, be multiplied to any extent. All large, healthy natures are cheerful as well as hopeful. Their example is also contag- ious and diffusive, brightening and cheering all who come within reach of their influence. It was said of Sir John Malcolm, when he appeared in a saddened camp in India, that "it was like a gleam of sunlight; no man left him without a smile on his face. He was ' boy Malcolm ' still. It was impossible to resist the fascination of his genial pres- ence." And so it is that there are old young m_en, and young old men — some who are as joy- ous and cheerful as boys in their old age, and others who are as morose and cheerless as saddened old men while still in their boy- hood. The true basis of cheerfulness is love, hope and patience. Love evokes love, and begets. MERRY CHRISTMAS. 191 192 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. loving-kindness. Love cherishes hopeful and generous thoughts of others. It is charitable, gentle and truthful. It is a discerner of good. It turns to the brightest side of things, and its face is ever directed towards happiness. It sees " the glory in the grass, the sunshine on the flower." It encourages happy thoughts, and lives in an atmosphere of cheerfulness. It costs nothing, and yet is invaluable; for it blesses its possessor, and grows up in abundant happiness in the bosoms of others. Even its sorrows are linked with pleasures, and its very tears are sweet. Getting by Giving. Bentham lays it down as a principle, that a man becomes rich in his own stock of pleasures' in proportion to the amount he distributes to others. ' His kindness will evoke kindness, and his happiness be in- creased by his own benevolence. "Kind words," he says, "cost no more than unkind ones. Kind words produce kind actions, not only on the part of him to whom they are addressed, but on the part of him by whom they are employed; and this not incidentally only, but habitually, in virtue of the principle of association. It may, indeed, happen that the effort of beneficence may not benefit those for whom it was in- tended; but when wisely directed, it imist benefit the person from whom it emanates. "Good and friendly conduct may meet with an unworthy and ungrateful return ; but the absence of gratitude on the part of the receiver cannot destroy the self-approba- tion which recompenses the giver, and we may scatter the seeds of courtesy and kind- liness around us at so little expense. Some of them will inevitably fall on good ground, and grow up into benevolence in the minds of others; and all of them will bear fruit of happiness in the bosom whence they spring. Once blest are all the virtues always ; twice blest sometimes." A well-known author tells a story of a little girl, a great favorite with every one who knew her. Some one said to her, "Why does everybody love you so much?" She answered, " I think it is because I love everybody so much." This little story is capable of a very wide application; for our happiness as human beings, generally speak- ing, will be found to be very much in pro- portion to the number of things we love, and the number of things that love us. And the greatest worldly success, however honestly achieved, will contribute comparatively little to happiness unless it be accompanied by a lively benevolence towards every human being. Affording Pleasure to Others. Kindness is indeed a great power in the world. Leigh Hunt has truly said that "Power itself hath not one-half the might of gentleness." Men are always best gov- erned through their affections. " More wasps are caught by honey than by vinegar." "Every act of kindness," says Bentham, "is in fact an exercise of power, and a stock of friendship laid up; and why should not power exercise itself in the production of pleasure as of pain? " Kindness does not consist in gifts, but in gentleness and generosity of spirit. Men may give their money which comes from the purse, and withhold their kindness which comes from the heart. The kindness that displays itself in giving money does not amount to much, and often does quite as much harm as good; but the kindness of true sympathy, of thoughtful help, is never without beneficient results. The good temper that displays itself in I LOOKING ON THE BRIGHT SIDE. 193 ■kindness must not be confounded with soft- ness or silliness. In its best form, it is not a merely passive but an active condition of being. It is not by any means indifferent, tut largely sympathetic. It does not charac- terize the lovv^est and most gelatinous forms of human life, but those that are the most highly organized. True kindness cherishes and actively promotes all reasonable instru- mentalities for doing practical good in its own time; and, looking into futurity, sees the same spirit working on for the eventual ele- vation and happiness of the race. It is the kindly-dispositioned men who are the active men of the world, while the selfish and the skeptical, who have no love but for themselves, are its idlers. Buffon used to say that he would give nothing for a young man who did not begin life with an enthusiasm of some sort. It showed that at least he had faith in something good, lofty, and generous, even if unattainable. Making a God of Self. Egotism, skepticism, and selfishness are always miserable companions in life, and they are especially unnatural in youth. The egotist is next door to a fanatic. Constantly occupied with self, he has no thought to spare for others. He refers to himself in all things, thinks of himself, and studies himself, until his own little self becomes his own little god. Worst of all are the grumblers and growlers at fortune — who find that "whatever is is wrong," and will do nothing to set matters right — who declare all to be barren, " from Dan even to Beersheba." These grumblers are invariably found the least efficient helpers in the school of life. The worst wheel of all is the one that creaks. There is such a thing as the cherishing of •discontent until the feeling becomes morbid. The jaundiced see everything about them yellow. The ill-conditioned think all things awry, and the whole world out of joint. All is vanity and vexation of spirit. Many full- grown people are morbidly unreasonable. There are those who may be said to "enjoy bad health; " they regard it as a sort of prop- erty. They can speak of "my headache," " my back-ache," and so forth, until, in course of time, it becomes their most cherished possession. But perhaps it is the source to them of much coveted sympathy, without which they might find themselves of compara- tively little importance in the world. Nursing our Troubles. We have to be on our guard against small troubles, which, by encouraging, we are apt to magnify into great ones. Indeed, the chief source of worry in the world is not real but imaginary evil — small vexations and trivial afiflictions. In the presence of a great sorrow, all petty troubles disappear ; but we are too ready to take some cherished misery to our bosom, and to pet it there. Very often it is the child of our fancy; and, for- getful of the many means of happiness which lie within our reach, we indulge this spoiled child of ours until it masters us. We shut the door against cheerfulness, and surround ourselves with gloom. The habit gives a coloring to our life. We grow queru- lous, moody, and unsympathetic. Our con- versation becomes full of regrets. We are harsh in our judgment of others. We are unsociable, and think everybody else is so. We make our breast a storehouse of pain, which we inflict upon ourselves as well as upon others. This disposition is encouraged by selfish- ness : indeed, it is, for the most part, selfish- ness unmingled, without any admixture of sympathy or consideration for the feelings of 194 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. those about us. It is simply wilfulness in the wrong direction. It is willful, because it might be avoided. Let the necessitarians argue as they may, freedom of will and action is the possession of every man and woman. It is sometimes our glory, and very often it is our shame : all depends upon the manner in which it is used. We can choose to look at the bright side of things or at the dark. We can follow good and eschew evil thoughts. We can be wrong-headed and wrong-hearted, or the reverse, as we ourselves determine. The world will be to each one of us very much what we make it. The cheerful are its real possessors, for the world belongs to those who enjoy it. A Miserable Jester. It must, however, be admitted that there are cases beyond the reach of the moralist. Once, when a miserable-looking dyspeptic called upon a leading physician, and laid his case before him, "Oh!" said the doctor, "you only want a good hearty laugh: go and see Grimaldi!" "Alas!" said the mis- erable patient, "/am Grimaldi!" The restless, anxious, dissatisfied temper, that is ever ready to run and meet care half- way, is fatal to all happiness and peace of mind. How often do we see men and women encase themselves as if with chest- nut-burrs, so that one dare scarcely approach them without fear of being pricked! For want of a little occasional command over one's temper, an amount of misery is occa- sioned in society which is positively frightful. Thus enjoyment is turned into bitterness, and life becomes like a journey barefooted among thorns and briers and prickles. "Though sometimes small evils," says Richard Sharp, "like invisible insects, inflict great pain, and a single hair may stop a vast machine, yet the chief secret of comfort lies in not suffering trifles to vex us; and in prudently cultivating an undergrowth of small pleasures, since very few great ones^ alas ! are let on long leases." St. Francis de Sales treats the same topic from the Christian's point of view. "How carefully," he says, "we should cherish the. little virtues which spring up at the foot of the Cross ! " When the saint was asked, "What virtues do you mean?" he replied: "Humility, patience, meekness, benignity, bearing one another's burden, condescension, softness of heart, cheerfulness, cordiality, compassion, forgiving injuries, simplicity, candor — all, in short, of that sort of little virtues. They, like unobtrusive violets, love the shade; like them, are sustained by dew; and though, like them, they make little show, they shed a sweet odor on all around." Running to Meet Trials. Meeting evils by anticipation is not the way to overcome them. If we perpetually carry our burdens about with us, they will soon bear us down under their load. When evil comes, we must deal with it bravely and hopefully. What Perthes wrote to a young man, who seemed to him inclined to take trifles as well as sorrows too much to heart, was doubtless good advice: "Go forward with hope and confidence. This is the advice given thee by an old man, who has had a full share of the burden and heat of life's day. We must ever stand upright, happen what may, and for this end we must cheerfully resign ourselves to the varied influences of this many-colored life. "You may call this levity, and you are partly right — for flowers and colors are but trifles light as air — but such levity is a con- stituent portion of our human nature, without which it would sink under the weight of time. LOOKING ON THE BRIGHT SIDE. 19& While on earth we must still play with earth, and with that which blooms and fades upon its breast. The consciousness of this mortal life being but the way to a higher goal by no means precludes our playing with it cheerfully; and, indeed, we must do so, otherwise our energy in action will entirely fail." Never Trouble Trouble. My good man is a clever man, Which no one will gainsay ; He lies awake to plot and plan 'Gainst lions in the way, While I, without a thought of ill, Sleep sound enough for three ; For I never trouble trouble till Trouble troubles me. A holiday we never fix But he is sure 'twill rain, And when the sky is clear at six He knows it won't remain. He's always prophesying ill, To which I won't agree, For I never trouble trouble till Trouble troubles me. The wheat will never show a top — But soon how green the field ! We will not harvest half a crop- Yet have a famous j'ield ! It will not sell, it never will ! But I will wait and see, For I never trouble trouble till Trouble troubles me. He has a sort of second sight. And when the fit is strong, He sees beyond the good and right The evil and the wrong. Heaven's cup of joy he'll surely spill Unless I with him be. For I never trouble trouble till Trouble troubles me. Granted 'Wishes. Two little girls let loose from school Queried what each would be. One said " I'd be a queen and rule ; " And one "The world I'd see." The years went on. Again they met. And queried what had been : "A poor man's wife am I, and yet," Said one " I am a queen. ' ' My realm a happy household is, My king a husband true ; I rule by loving services ; How has it been with you? " One answered ' ' still the great world lies Beyond me as it laid ; O'er love's and duty's boundaries My feet have never strayed. " Faint murmurs of the wide world come Unheeded to my ear ; My widowed mother's sick bedroom Sufficeth for my sphere." They clasped each other's hands ; with tears Of solemn joy they cried, " God gave the wish of our young years, And we are satisfied." J. G. Whittier. Let your cheerfulness be felt for good wherever you are, and let your smiles be scattered like sunbeams " on the just as well as on the unjust." Such a disposition will yield a rich reward, for its happy effects will come home to you and brighten your moments of thought. If your seat is hard to sit upon, stand up. If a rock rises up before you, roll it away, or climb over it. If you want money, earn it. It takes longer to skin an elephant than a mouse, but the skin is worth something. If you want confidence, prove yourself worthy of it. Do not be content with doing what another has done — surpass it. Deserve success, and it will come. The boy was not born a man. The sun does not rise like a rocket, or go down like a bullet fired from a gun ; slowly and surely it makes it round, and never tires. It is as easy to be a lead horse as a wheel horse. If the job be long, the pay will be greater; if the task be hard, the more competent you must be to do it. INDUSTRY AND IDLENESS. 196 CHAPT^KR XI. INDUSTRY. ENJAMIN Franklin says, "Sloth 1, makes all things difficult, but industry all easy. He that riseth late must trot all day^ and shall scarcely overtake his business at night ; while laziness travels so slowly that poverty soon overtakes him." Franklin was a shin- ing illustration of industry overcoming poverty and a humble position. He rose by steady work and perseverance. In giving an account of his life he says, " I will describe my first entrance into Philadelphia, that you may be able to compare beginnings so little auspicious with the figure I have since made. " On my arrival I was in my working dress, my best clothes being to come by sea. I was covered with dirt; my pockets were filled with shirts and stockings ; I was unacquainted with a single soul in the place, and knew not where to seek a lodging. Fatigued with walking, rowing, and having passed the night without sleep, I was extremely hungry', and all my money consisted of a Dutch dollar and about a shilling's worth of coppers, which I gave to the boatmen for my passage. As I had assisted them in rowing, they refused it at first, but I insisted on their taking it. A man is sometimes more generous when he has little than when he has much money; probably because, in the first case, he is desirous of conceahng his poverty. "I walked towards the top of the street, looking eagerly on both sides, till I came to Market street, where I met with a child Avith a loaf of bread. Often had I made my dinner on dry bread. I inquired where he had bought it, and went straight to the baker's- shop, which he pointed out to me. I asked for some biscuits, expecting to find such as we had at Boston; but they made, it seems, none of that sort at Philadelphia. I then asked for a threepenny loaf They made no loaves of that price. "Finding myself ignorant of the prices as well as of the different kinds of bread, I de- sired him to let me have threepenny-worth of bread of some kind or other. He gave me three large rolls. I was surprised at receiving so much: I took them, however, and, having no room in my pockets, I walked on with a roll under each arm, eating a third. In this manner I went through Market street to Fourth street, and passed the house of Mr. Read, the father of my future wife. She w^s standing at the door, observed me, and thought, with reason, that I made a very singular and grotesque appearance. Poor but Generous. " I then turned the corner and went through Chestnut street, eating my roll all the way; and, having made this round, I found myself again on Market street wharf, near the boat in which I arrived. I stepped into it to take a draught of the river water; and, finding myself satisfied with my first roll, I gave the other two to a woman and her child, who had come down with us in the boat, and was waiting to continue her journey. " Thus refreshed, I regained the street.which was now full of well-dressed people, all going 197 198 INDUSTRY. the same way. I joined them, and was thus led to a large Quaker meeting-house near the market-place. I sat down with the rest, and, after looking round me for some time, hearing nothing said, and being drowsy from my last night's labor and want of rest, I fell into a sound sleep. In this state I continued till the assembly dispersed, when one of the congregation had the goodness to wake me. This was consequently the first house I entered, or in which I slept, at Philadelphia." This was Franklin's first appearance in the city where his grave is now cherished as a sacred spot. He was poor and friendless yet, by perseverance and industry', he placed him- self at the tables of princes, and became a chief pillar in the councils of his country. The simple journeyman, eating his roll in the street, lived to become a philosopher and a statesman, and to command the respect of his country and of mankind. What a lesson for youth ! It has been said that no sword is too short for a brave man, for one step forward will make a short sword long enough. But few tasks are too difficult for one who is indus- trious and persevering. "Labor conquers all things." If the task is difficult, work a little harder. On the Delphian temple is the motto of Periander: "Nothing is impossible to in- dustry." If you have great talents, industry will improve them ; if moderate ability, industry -will supply their deficiency. Nothing is denied to well-directed labor ; nothing is ever to be attained without it. Benefit of Industry. Ho, all who labor, all who strive ! Ye wield a lofty power ; Do with your might, do with your strength, Fill every golden hour ! The glorious privilege to do Is man's most noble dower. O, to your birthright and yourselves. To your own souls be true ! A weary, wretched life is theirs Who have no work to do. C. F Orne. Incentives to Work. Toil, and be glad ! let Industry inspire Into your quickened limbs her buoyant breath I Who does not act is dead : absorbed entire In miry sloth, no pride, no joy he hath ; O leaden-hearted men, to be in love with death ! Ah ! what avail the largest gifts of Heaven, When drooping health and spirits go amiss ! How tasteless then whatever can be given ! Health is the vital principle of bliss. And exercise of health. In proof of this, Behold the wretch who slugs his life away. Soon swallowed in Disease's sad abyss, While he whom Toil has braced, or manly play, Has light as air each limb, each thought as clear as day. Work is the law of our being — the living principle that carries men and nations on- ward. The greater number of men have to work with their hands, as a matter of necessity, in order to live; but all must work in one way or another, if they would enjoy life as it ought to be enjoyed. Labor may be a burden and a chastise- ment, but it is also an honor and a glory. Without it nothing can be accomplished. All that is great in man comes through work, and civilization is its product. Were labor abolished, the race of Adam were at once stricken by moral death. It is idleness that is the curse of man — not labor. Idleness eats the heart out of men as of nations, and consumes them as rust does iron. When Alexander conquered the Persians, and had an opportunity of observing their manners, he remarked that they did not seem conscious that there could be anything more servile than a life of pleasure, or more princely than a life of toil. THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 199 A close observer of men and things told us the following little history, which we hope will plough very deeply into the attention of all who plough very shallow in their soils. Two brothers settled together in the same county; one of them on a cold, ugly, clay soil, covered with black-jack oak, not one ■of which was large enough to make half a dozen rails. This man would never drive any but large, powerful Conastoga horses, some seventeen hands high. He always put three horses to a large plough, and plunged it in some ten inches deep. This deep ploughing he invariably practiced, and culti- vated thoroughly afterward. He raised his seventy bushels of corn to an acre. Land will not 'Work Itself. This man had a brother about six miles off, settled on a rich White River bottom- land farm; and while a black-jack clay soil yielded seventy bushels to an acre, this fine bottom-land would not average fifty. One brother was steadily growing rich on poor land, and the other steadily growing poor on rich land. One day the bottom-land brother came down to see the black-jack oak farmer, and they began to talk about their crops and farms, as farmers are very apt to do. "How is it," said the first, "that you manage on this poor soil to beat me in crops?" The reply was, ^^ I work tny land!' That was it exactly. Some men have such rich land that they won't work it; and they never get a step beyond where they began. They rely on the soil, not on labor, or skill, or care. Some men expect their lands to work, and some men expect to work their lands; that is just the difference between a good and a bad farmer. When we had written thus far, and read it to our informant, he said, "Three years ago I traveled again through that section, and the only good farm I saw was this very one of which you have just written. All the others were desolate — fences down, cabins abandoned, the settlers discouraged and moved off. I thought I saw the same stable door, hanging by one hinge, that used to disgust me ten years before; and I saw no change, except for the worse, in the whole county, with the single exception of this one farm." An Emperor's "Watch-Word. When the Emperor Severus lay on his death-bed at York, whither he had been borne on a litter from the foot of the Gram- pians, his final watch-word to his soldiers was, "we must work;" and nothing but constant toil maintained the power and ex- tended the authority of the Roman generals. In describing the earlier social condition of Italy, when the ordinary occupations of rural life were considered compatible with the highest civic dignity, Pliny speaks of the triumphant generals and their men returning contentedly to the plough. In those days the lands were tilled by the hands even of generals, the soil exulting beneath a plough- share crowned with laurels, and guided by a husbandman graced with triumphs. It was only after slaves became extensively em- ployed in all departments of industry that labor came to be regarded as dishonorable and servile. And so soon as indolence and luxury became the characteristics of the ruling classes of Rome, the downfall of the empire, sooner or later, was inevitable. There is, perhaps, no tendency of owi nature that has to be more carefully guarded against than indolence. An intelligent for- eigner who had travelled over the greater part of the world, was asked whether he had observed any one quality which, more than 200 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. another, could be regarded as a universal characteristic of our species, his answer was, in broken English, "Me tink dat all men love lazy." It is characteristic of the savage as of the despot. It is natural to men to endeavor to enjoy the products of labor without its toils. Indolence is equally degrading to indi- viduals as to nations. Sloth never made its mark in the world, and never will. Sloth never climbed a hill, nor overcame a difficulty that it could avoid. Indolence always failed in life, and always will. It is in the nature of things that it should not succeed in any- thing. It is a burden, an incumbrance, and a nuisance — always useless, complaining, melancholy, and miserable. The Mother of Mischief. Burton, in his quaint and curious book — the only one, Johnson says, that ever took him out of bed two hours sooner than he wished to rise — describes the causes of Mel- ancholy as hinging mainly on idleness. "Idleness," he says, "is the bane of body and mind, the nurse of naughtiness, the chief mother of all mischief, one of the seven deadly sins, the devil's cushion, his pillow and chief reposal. An idle dog will be mangy ; and how shall an idle person escape? Idleness of the mind is much worse than that of the body : wit, without employ- ment, is a disease — the rust of the soul, a plague, a hell itself As in a standing pool, worms and filthy creepers increase, so do evil and corrupt thoughts in an idle person ; the soul is contaminated. "Thus much I dare boldly say: he or she that is idle, be they of what condition they will, never so rich, so well allied, fortunate, happy — let them have all things in abund- ance and felicity that heart can wish and desire, all contentment — so long as he, or she, or they, are idle, they shall never be' pleased, never well in body or mind, but weary still, sickly still, vexed still, loathing still, weeping, sighing, grieving, suspecting^ offended with the world, with every object, wishing themselves gone or dead, or else carried away with some foolish phantasie or other." Either Grain or Thistles. Burton says a great deal more to the same effect ; the burden and lesson of his book being embodied in the pregnant sentence with which it winds up : " Only take this for a corollary and conclusion, as thou tenderest thine own welfare in this, and all other mel- ancholy, thy good health of body and mind, observe this short precept. Give not way to solitariness and idleness. Be not solitary — be not idle." The indolent, however, are not wholly indolent. Though the body may shirk labor,, the brain is not idle. If it do not grow corn,, it will grow thistles, which will be found springing up all along the idle man's course in life. The ghosts of indolence rise up in the dark, ever staring the recreant in the face, and tormenting him: " The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices,. Make instruments to scourge us. ' ' True happiness is never found in torpor of the faculties, but in their action and useful employment. It is indolence that exhausts,, not action, in which there is life, health and pleasure. The spirits may be exhausted and wearied by employment, but they are utterly wasted by idleness. Hence a wise physician was accustomed to regard occupation as one of his most valuable remedial measures. "Nothing is so injurious," said Dr. Mar- shall Hall, "as unoccupied time." An arch- bishop of Mayence used to say that "the INDUSTRY. 201 human heart is Hke a millstone: if you put wheat under it, it grinds the wheat into flour; if you put no wheat, it grinds on, but then 'tis itself it wears away." Labor Song. Ah ! little they know of true happiness, they whom satiety fills, Who, flung on the rich breast of luxury, eat of the rankness that kills. Ah ! little they know of the blessedness toil-pur- chased slumber enjoys Who, stretched on the hard rack of indolence, taste of the sleep that destroys ; Nothing to hope for, or labor for; nothing to sigh for, or gain ; Nothing to light in its vividness, lightning-like, bosom and brain ; Nothing to break life's monotony, rippling it o'er with its breath ; — Nothing but dullness and lethargy, weariness, sor- row and death ! But blessed that child of humanity, happiest man among men, Who, with hammer or chisel or pencil, with rudder or ploughshare or pen, Laboreth ever and ever with hope through the morning of life, Winning home and its darling divinities — love-wor- shipped children and wife. Round swings the hammer of industry, quickly the sharp chisel rings, And the heart of the toiler has throbbings that stir not the bosom of kings — He the true ruler and conqueror, he the true king of his race. Who nerveth his arm for life's combat, and looks the strong world in the face. Dknis Florence MacCarthy. Indolence is usually full of excuses; and the sluggard, though unwilling to work, is often an active sophist. "There is a lion in the path;" or "The hill is hard to climb;" or "There is no use trying — I have tried, and failed, and cannot do it." To the sophistries of such an excuser, a friend once wrote to a young man: "My attack upon your indolence, loss of time, etc., was most serious, and I really think that it can be to nothing but your habitual want of exertion that can be ascribed your using such curious arguments as you do in your defense. Your theory is this: Every man does all the good that he can. If a particular individual does no good, it is a proof that he is incapable of doing it. That you don't write proves that you can't; and your want of inclination demonstrates your want of talents. What an admirable system! — and what beneficial effects would it be attended with if it were but universally re- ceived ! " Effort and Enjoyment. It has been truly said that to desire to pos- sess without being burdened with the trouble of acquiring is as much a sign of weakness, as to recognize that everything worth having is only to be got by paying its price is the prime secret of practical strength. Even leisure cannot be enjoyed unless it is won by effort. If it have not been earned by work, the price has not been paid for it. Life must needs be disgusting alike to the idle rich man as to the idle poor man, who has no work to do, or, having work, will not do it. The words found tatooed on the right arm of a sentimental beggar of forty, under- going his eighth imprisonment in the jail of Bourges in France, might be adopted as the motto of all idlers : "The past has deceived me; the present torments me; the future terrifies me." The duty of industry applies to all classes and conditions of society. All have their work to do in their respective conditions of life — the rich as well as the poor. No right- minded man can be satisfied with being fed, clad, and maintained by the labor of others, without making some suitable return to the 202 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. society that upholds him. An honest, high- minded man would revolt at the idea of sitting down to and enjoying a feast, and then going away without paying his share of the reckoning. To be idle and useless is neither an honor nor a privilege ; and though per- sons of small natures may be content merely to consume — men of average endowment, of manly aspirations, and of honest purpose, will feel such a condition to be incompatible with real honor and true dignity. "I don't believe," says a close observer, *'that an unemployed man, however amiable and otherwise respectable, ever was, or ever can be, really happy. As work is our life, show me what you can do, and I will show you what you are. I have spoken of love of one's work as the best preventive of merely low and vicious tastes. I will go farther, and say that it is the best preservative against petty anxieties, and the annoyances that arise out of indulged self-love. Something you cannot Shirk. " Men have thought before now that they could take refuge from trouble and vexation by sheltering themselves, as it were, in a world of their own. The experiment has often been tried, and always with one result. You cannot escape from anxiety and labor — it is the destiny of humanity. Those who shirk from facing trouble find that trouble comes to them. The indolent may contrive that he shall have less than his share of the world's work to do, but nature, proportioning the instinct to the work, contrives that the little shall be much and hard to him. " The man who has only himself to please finds, sooner or later, and probably sooner than later, that he has got a very hard mas- ter; and the excessive weakness which shrinks from responsibility has its own punishment too, for where great interests are excluded little matters become great, and the same wear and tear of mind that might have been at least usefully and health- fully expended on the real business of life is often wasted in petty and imaginary vexa- tions, such as breed and multiply in the unoccupied brain." Even on the lowest ground — that of per- sonal enjoyment — constant useful occupation is necessary. He who labors not cannot enjoy the reward of labor, "We sleep sound," said Sir Walter Scott, "and our waking hours are happy, when they are employed; and a little sense of toil is necessary to the enjoyment of leisure, even when earned by study and sanctioned by tb'=' discharge of duty." "Work Hurts Nobody. It is true, there are men who die of over- work; but many more die of selfishness, indulgence and idleness. Where men break down by overwork, it is most commonly from want of duly ordering their lives, and neglect of the ordinary conditions of physical health. We doubt whether hard work, steadily and regularly carried on, ever yet hurt anybody. Then, again, length of years is no proper test of length oif' life. A man's life is to be measured by what he does in it, and what he feels in it. The more useful work the man does, and the more he thinks and feels, the more he really lives. The idle, useless man, no matter to what extent his life may be pro- longed, merely vegetates. The early teachers of Christianity ennobled the lot of toil by their example. " He that will not work," said the Apostle Paul, "neither shall he eat; " and he glorified him- self in that he had labored with his hands, and had not been chargeable to any man. When St. Boniface landed in Britain, he came INDUSTRY. 203 with a Gospel in one hand and a carpenter's rule in the other; and from England he afterwards passed over into Germany, carry- ing thither the art of building. Luther also, in the midst of a multitude of other employ- ments, worked diligently for a living, earning his bread by gardening, building, turning, and even clock-making. Writing to an abbot at Nuremberg, who had sent him a store of turning-tools, Luther said: "I have made considerable progress in clock-making, and I am very much delighted at it, for these drunken Saxons need to be constantly reminded of what the real time is : not that they themselves care much about it, for as long as their glasses are kept filled, they trouble themselves very little as to whether clocks, or clock-makers, or the time itself, go right." A Saying of Napoleon. It was characteristic of Napoleon, when -visiting a work of mechanical excellence, to pay great respect to the inventor, and, on taking his leave, to salute him with a low how. Once at St. Helena, when walking with a lady, some servants came along carry- ing a load. The lady, in an angry tone, ordered them out of the w^ay, on which Na- poleon interposed, saying, "Respect the burden, madam." Even the drudgery of the humblest laborer contributes towards the general well-being of society ; and it was a wise saying of a Chinese emperor that " if there was a man who did not work, or a woman that was idle, somebody must suffer cold or hunger in the empire." The habit of constant useful occupation is as essential for the happiness and well-being of woman as of man. Without it women are apt to sink into a state of listless languor and uselessness, accompanied by sick-headache and attacks of "nerves." Examples of Labor. Sweet wind, fair wind, where have you been? "I've been sweeping the cobwebs out of the Sky ; I've been grinding a grist in the mill hard by; I've been laughing at work while others sigh ; Let those laugh who win ! ' ' Sweet rain, soft rain, what are you doing? "I'm urging the corn to fill out its cells ; I'm helping the lily to fashion its bells ; I'm swelling the torrent and brimming the wells ; Is that worth pursuing? " Redbreast, redbreast, what have you done ? " I've been watching the nest where my fledgelings lie; I've sung them to sleep with a lullaby ; By and by I shall teach them to fly, Up and away, every one ! ' ' Honey-bee, honey-bee, where are you going? " Tj fill my basket with precious pelf ; To coil for my neighbor as well as myself; To find out the sweetest flower that grows, Be it a thistle or be it a rose — A secret worth the knowing ! ' ' Each content with the work to be done, Ever the same from sun to sun : Shall you and I be taught to work By the bee and the bird, that scorn to shirk ? Wind and rain fulfilling His word ! Tell me, was ever a legend heard Where the wind, commanded to blow, deferred ; Or the rain, that was bidden to fall, demurred? Mary N. Prescott. Constant useful occupation is wholesome, not only for the body, but for the mind. While the slothful man drags himself indo- lently through life, and the better part of his nature sleeps a deep sleep, if not morally and spiritually dead, the energetic man is a source of activity and enjoyment to all who come within reach of his influence. Even any ordinary drudgery is better than idleness. Fuller says of Sir Francis Drake, who was early sent to sea, and kept close to his work by his master, that such " pains and patience in his youth knit the joints of his 204 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. soul, and made them more solid and com- pact." Schiller used to say that he con- sidered it a great advantage to be employed in the discharge of some daily mechanical duty — some regular routine of work, that rendered steady application necessary. The Labor of Doing Nothing. Thousands can bear testimony to the truth of the saying of Greuze, the French painter, that work — employment, useful occu- pation — is one of the great secrets of happi- ness. Casaubon was once induced by the entreaties of his friends to take a few days' entire rest, but he returned to his work with the remark, that it was easier to bear illness doing something than doing nothing. When Charles Lamb was released for hfe from his daily drudgery of desk-work at the India Office, he felt himself the happiest of men. " I would not go back to my prison," he said to a friend, " ten years longer for ten thousand pounds." He also wrote in the same ecstatic mood to Bernard Barton : " I have scarce steadiness of head to compose a letter," he said; "lam free! free as air! I will live another fifty years. . . . Would I could sell you some of my leisure ! Posi- tively the best thing a man can do is — nothing; and next to that, perhaps, good works." Two years — two long and tedious years — passed; and Charles Lamb's feelings had undergone an entire change. He now dis- covered that official, even humdrum work — "the appointed round, the daily task" — had been good for him, though he knew it not. Time had formerly been his friend ; it had now become his enemy. To Bernard Barton he again wrote : "I assure you, no work is worse than overwork ; the mind preys on itself — the most unwhole- some of food. I have ceased to care for almost anything. Never did the waters of heaven pour down upon a forlorner head. What I can do, and overdo, is to walk. I am a sanguinary murderer of time." No man could be more sensible of the practical importance of industry than Sir Walter Scott, who was himself one of the most laborious and indefatigable of men. Indeed, Lockhart says of him that, taking all ages and countries together, the rare example of indefatigable energy, in union with serene self-possession of mind and manner, such as Scott's, must be sought for in the roll of great sovereigns or great captains, rather than in that of literary genius. You must Put in the Plow. Scott himself was most anxious to impress upon the minds of his own children the im- portance of industry as a means of usefulness and happiness in the world. To his son Charles, when at school, he wrote : " I can- not too much impress upon your mind that labor is the condition which God has imposed on us in every station of life ; there is nothing worth having that can be had without it, from the bread which the peasant wins with the sweat of his brow to the sports by which the rich man must get rid of his languor. As for knowledge, it can no more be planted in the human mind without labor than a field of wheat can be produced without the pre- vious use of the plough. " There is, indeed, this great difference,, that chance or circumstance may so cause it that another shall reap what the farmer sows ; but no man can be deprived, whether by accident or misfortune, of the fruits of his own studies ; and the liberal and extended acquisitions of knowledge which he makes are all for his own use. Labor, therefore, my dear boy, and improve the time. In I NDUSTRY. 205 youth our steps are light, and our minds are ductile, and knowledge is easily laid up ; but if we neglect our spring, our summers will be useless and contemptible, our harvest will be chaff, and the winter of our old age unre- spected and desolate." Southey was as laborious a worker as Scott. Indeed, work might almost be said to form part of his reHgion. He was only nineteen when he wrote these words : " Nine- teen years ! certainly a fourth part of my life ; perhaps how great a part ! and yet I have been of no service to society. The clown who scares crows for twopence a day is a more useful man ; he preserves the bread which I eat in idleness." And yet Southey had not been idle as a boy — on the contrary, he had been a most diligent student. He had not only read largely in English literature, but was well acquainted, through translations, with Tasso, Ariosto, Homer, and Ovid. He felt, how- ever, as if his life had been purposeless, and he determined to do something. He began, and from that time forward he pursued an unremitting career of literary labor down to the close of his life — " daily progressing in learning," to use his own words — "not so learned as he is poor, not so poor as proud, not so proud as happy." The Laborer. Stand up — erect ! Thou hast the form And likeness of thy God ! — who more ? A soul as dauntless 'mid the storm Of daily life, a heart as warm And pure as breast e'er wore. What then ? — Thou art as true a man As moves the human mass among ; As much a part of the great plan, That with creation's dawn began, As any of the throng. Who is thine enemy ? the high In station, or in wealth the chief? The great, who coldly pass thee by, With proud step and averted eye ? Nay ! nurse not such belief. If true unto thyself thou wast, What were the proud one's scorn to thee ? A feather which thou mightest cast Aside, as idly as the blast The light leaf from the tree. No : uncurbed passions, low desires. Absence of noble self-respect, Death, in the breast's consuming fires. To that high nature which aspires Forever, till thus checked. These are thine enemies — thy worst ; They chain thee to thy lowly lot : Thy labor and thy life accursed. Oh, stand erect ! and from them burst ! And longer suffer not '. Thou art thyself thine enemy ! The great ! — what better they than thou? As theirs, is not thy will as free? Has God with equal favors thee Neglected to endow ? True, wealth thou hast not — 'tis but dust ! Nor place — uncertain as the wind ! But that thou hast, which, with thy crust And water, may despise the lust Of both — a noble mind ! With this, and passions under ban. True faith, and holy trust in God, Thou art the peer of any man. Look up, then, that thy little span Of life may be well trod ! William D. Gai,i,agher. The maxims of men often reveal their character. That of Sir Walter Scott was, "Never to be doing nothing." Robertson, the historian, as early as his fifteenth year, adopted the maxim, " Life without learning is death." Voltaire's motto was, "Always at work." When Bossuet was at college, he was so distinguished by his ardor in study, that his fellow-students, playing upon his name, designated him as "The ox used to the plough." 206 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. We have spoken of work as a discipline : it is also an educator of character. Even work that produces no results, because it is work, is better than torpor — inasmuch as it educates faculty, and is thus preparatory to successful work. The habit of working teaches method. It compels economy of time, and the disposition of it with judicious forethought. And when the art of packing life with useful occupations is once acquired by practice, every minute will be turned to account; and leisure, when it comes, will be enjoyed with all the greater zest. It is because application to business teaches method most effectually, that it is so useful as an educator of character. The highest working qualities are best trained by active and sympathetic contact with others in the affairs of daily life. It does not matter whether the business relate to the manage- ment of a household or of a nation. The Business W^oman. Indeed, the able housewife must necessarily be an efficient woman of business. She must regulate and control the details of her home, keep her expenditure within her means, arrange everything according to plan and system, and wisely manage and govern those subject to her rule. Efficient domes- tic management implies industry, application, method, moral discipline, forethought, pru- dence, practical ability, insight into character and power of organization — all of which are required in the efficient management of busi- ness of whatever sort. Business qualities have, indeed, a very large field of action. They mean aptitude for affairs, competency to deal successfully with the practical work of life — whether the spur of action lie in domestic management, in the conduct of a profession, in trade or commerce, in social organization, or in political government. And the training which gives efficiency in dealing with these various affairs is of all others the most useful in practical life. Moreover, it is the best discipline of character; for it involves the exercise of diligence, attention, self-denial, judgment, tact, knowledge of and sympathy with others. The Best Ability, Such a discipline is far more productive of happiness, as well as useful efficiency in life, than any amount of literary culture or medi- tative seclusion; for in the long run it will usually be found that practical ability carries it over intellect, and temper and habits over talent. It must, however, be added that this is a kind of culture that can only be acquired by diligent observation and carefully improved experience. "To be a good blacksmith," says a well-known author, " one must have forged all his life : to be a good administra- tor, one should have passed his whole life in the study and practice of business." The great commander leaves nothing to chance, but provides for every contingency. He condescends to apparently trivial details. Thus, when Wellington was at the head of his army in Spain, he directed the precise manner in which the soldiers were to cook their provisions. When in India, he specified the exact speed at which the bullocks were to be driven; every detail in equipment was carefully arranged beforehand. And thus not only was efficiency secured, but the devotion of his men, and their boundless confidence in his command. Washington, also, was an indefatigable man of business. From his boyhood he diligently trained himself in habits of appli- cation, of study, and of methodical work. His manuscript school-books, which are still preserved, show that, as early as the age INDUSTRY. 207 of thirteen, he occupied himself voluntarily in copying out such things as forms of receipts, notes of hand, bills of exchange, bonds, indentures, leases, land-warrants, and other dry documents, all written out with great care. And the habits which he thus early acquired were, in a great measure, the foundation of those admirable business quali- ties which he afterwards so successfully brought to bear in the affairs of govern- ment. The man or woman who achieves success in the management of any great affair of business is entitled to honor — it may be, to as much as the artist who paints a picture, or the author who writes a book, or the soldier who wins a battle. Their success may have been gained in the face of as great difficulties, and after as great struggles ; and while they have won their battle, it is at least a peaceful one, and there is no blood on their hands. The Men who Rule. Power belongs only to the workers ; the idlers are always powerless. It is the laborious and painstaking men who are the rulers of the world. There has not been a statesman of eminence but was a man of industry. " It is by toil,'' said even Louis XIV., " that kings govern." When Claren- don. described Hampden, he spoke of him as " of an industry and vigilance not to be tired out or wearied by the most laborious, and of parts not to be imposed on by the most subtle and sharp, and of a personal courage equal to his best parts." Indeed, this living principle of constant work, of abundant occupation, of practical contact with men in the affairs of life, has in all times been the best ripener of the ener- getic vitality of strong natures. Business habits, cultivated and disciplined, are found alike useful in every pursuit — whether in politics, literature, science, or art. Thus, a great deal of the best literary work has been done by men systematically trained in business pursuits. The same industry, application, economy of time and labor, which have rendered them useful in the one sphere of employment, have been found equally available in the other. The Dignity of Labor. Labor is life ! — 'Tis the still water faileth ; Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth ; Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth ; Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. Labor is glorj' ! — the flying cloud lightens ; Onlj^ the waving wing changes and brightens ; Idle hearts only the dark future frightens : Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune ! Labor is rest from the sorrows that greet us, Rest from all petty vexations that meet us, Rest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us. Rest from world-sirens that lure us to ill. Work — and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow ; Work — thou shalt ride over care's coming billow ; Lie not down wearied 'neath woe's weeping willow t Work with a stout heart and resolute will ! Labor is health ! — Lo ! the husbandman reaping. How through his veins goes the life-current leaping ! How his strong arm in its stalwart pride sweeping, True as a sunbeam the swift sickle guides. Labor is wealth — in the sea the pearl groweth ; Rich the queen's robe from the frail cocoon floweth ; From the fine acorn the strong forest bloweth ; Temple and statue the marble block hides. Droop not, though shame, sin and anguish are round thee; Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee ! Look to yon pure heaven smiling beyond thee : Rest not content in thy darkness— a clod ! Work for some good, be it ever so slowly ; Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly : Labor ! — all labor is noble and holy ; Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God. Frances Sargent Osgood. Men of trained working faculty so con- tract the habit of labor that idleness becomes 208 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. intolerable to them; and when driven by- circumstances from their own special line of occupation, they find refuge in other pursuits. The diligent man is quick to find employment for his leisure; and he is able to make leisure when the idle man finds none. Thus many great things have been done during such "vacant times of leisure," by men to whom industry had become a second nature, and who found it easier to work than to be idle. Respectable Hobbies. Even hobbies are useful as educators of the working faculty. Hobbies evoke in- dustry of a certain kind, and at least provide agreeable occupation. Not such hobbies as that of Domitian, who occupied himself in catching flies. The hobbies of the King of Macedon, who made lanterns, and of the King of France, who made locks, were of .1 more respectable order. Even a routine mechanical employment is felt to be a relief by minds acting under high pressure : it is an intermission of labor — a rest — a relaxa- tion, the pleasure consisting in the work itself rather than in the result. Genius may be brilliant, may shine as stars of the first magnitude do, but history points to the fact that men of the most commanding abilities have yet been the most persevering workers. Daniel Webster was a man of towering intellect, but never trusted to his superior powers. Labor was his strong right hand. One who knew him well said he did not doubt but others could have written and spoken as well if they had labored as hard and diligently. Most of his speeches were the result of long and laborious preparation, and he succeeded as much by honest toil as by his native gifts, although these were of the highest order. He was a great statesman because he was a great worker. The Coral-Insect. Toil on ! toil on ! ye ephemeral train. Who build in the tossing and treacherous main ; Toil on — for the wisdom of man ye mock, With your sand-based structures and domes of rock ; Your columns the fathomless fountains lave, And your arches spring up to the crested wave ; Ye're a puny race, thus to boldly rear A fabric so vast, in a realm so drear. Ye bind the deep with your secret zone. The ocean is sealed, and the surge a stone ; Fresh wreaths from the coral pavement spring, Like the terraced pride of Assyria's king ; The turf looks green where the breakers rolled ; O'er the whirlpool ripens the rind of gold ; The sea-snatched isle is the home of men, And the mountains exult where the wave hath been. But why do ye plant 'neath the billows dark The wrecking reef for the gallant bark ? There are snares enough on the tented field, 'Mid the blossomed sweets that the valleys yield ; There are serpents to coil, ere the flowers are up ; There's a poison-drop in man's purest cup ; There are foes that watch for his cradle breath ; And why need you sow the floods with death ? With mouldering bones the deeps are white. From the ice-clad pole to the tropics bright ; The mermaid hath twisted her fingers cold With the mesh of the sea-boy's curls of gold, And the gods of ocean have frowned to see The mariner's bed in their halls of glee ; Hath earth no graves, that ye thus must spread The boundless sea for the thronging dead ? Ye build — ye build — but ye enter not in, Like the tribes whom the desert devoured in their sin ; From the land of promise ye fade and die, Ere its verdure gleams forth on your weary eye • As the kings of the cloud-crowned pyramid, Their noteless bones in oblivion hid, Ye slumber unmarked 'mid the desolate main, While the wonder and pride of your works remain. Lydia Huntley Sigourney. "A noble heart," says Barrow, " will dis- dain to subsist, like a drone, upon others' labors ; like a vermin, to filch its food out of the public granary ; or, like a shark, to prey upon the lesser fry; but it will rather outdo his private obligations to other men's care INDUSTRY. 209 and toil, by considerable service and benefi- cence to the public ; for there is no calling of any sort, from the sceptre to the spade, the management whereof, . with any good suc- cess, any credit, any satisfaction, doth not demand much work of the head, or of the hands, or of both." Labor is not only a necessity, but it is also a pleasure. What would otherwise be a curse, by the constitution of our physical system becomes a blessing. Our life is a conflict with nature in some respects, but it is also a co-operation with nature in others. The sun, the air, and the earth are con- stantly abstracting from us our vital forces. Hence we eat and drink for nourishment, and ■clothe ourselves for warmth. "We Do not Work Alone. Nature works with us. She provides the earth which we furrow : she grows and ripens the seeds that we sow and gather. She furnishes, with the help of human labor, the wool that we spin and the food that we eat. And it ought never to be forgotten that, however rich or poor we may be, all that we eat, all that we are clothed with, all that shelters us, from the palace to the cot- tage, is the result of labor. Men co-operate with each other for the mutual sustenance of all. The husbandman tills the ground and provides food ; the manufacturer weaves tissues, which the tailor and a seamstress make into clothes ; the mason and the bricklayer build the houses in which we enjoy household Hfe. Numbers of workmen thus contribute and help to create the general result. Labor and skill applied to the vulgarest things invest them at once with precious value. Labor is indeed the life of humanity ; take it away, banish it, and the race of Adam Avere at once stricken with death. " He that 14 will not work," said St. Paul, "neither shall he eat;" and the justice of this judgment cannot be called in question. No one will resent it except the lazy do-nothings. There is a well-known story of an old farmer calling his three idle sons around him when on his death-bed, to impart to them an important secret. " My sons," said he, " a great treasure lies hid in the estate which I am about to leave to you." The old man gasped. " Where is it hid?" exclaimed the sons in a breath. "I am about to tell you," said the old man ; " you will have to dig for it — " But his breath failed him before he could impart the weighty secret, and he died. Forthwith the sons set to work with spade and mattock upon the long-neglected fields, and they turned up every sod and clod upon the estate. They discovered no treasure, but they learned to work ; and when the fields were sown, and the harvest came, lo! the yield was prodigious, in consequence of the thorough tillage which they had undergone. Then it was that they discovered the treasure concealed in the estate, of which their wise old father had advised them. Honor to the "Workers. Labor is at once a burden, a chastisement, an honor, and a pleasure. It may be identi- fied with poverty, but there is also glory in it. It bears witness, at the same time, to our natural wants and to our manifold needs. What were man, what were life, what were civilization, without labor ? All that is great in man comes of labor — greatness in art, in literature, in science. Knowledge — "the wing wherewith we fly to heaven " — is only acquired through labor. Genius is but a capability of laboring intensely : it is the power of making great and sustained efforts. Labor may be a chastisement, but it is indeed a glorious one. It is worship, duty, praise, 210 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. and immortality — for those who labor with the highest aims and for the purest purposes. Learn to Sweep. Once in a city's crowded street, With broom in hand an urchin stood ; No boots inclosed the little feet, Though winter chilled the infant blood; And }-et he worked, the little man, As only youthful heroes can. And as he toiled he cheerful sang : "The noblest oak was once a seed, The choicest flower was but a weed, Unpinioned once the eaglet's wing. The river but a trickling spring, The swiftest foot must learn to creep, The proudest man must learn to sweep." Anon some passing idlers sought The sweeper from his toil to shame, To scorn the noble worker's thought, And quench the young aspiring flame ; No answer gave the hero back. But to and fro he whisked the broom, And shouted as he cleared the track, " The noblest oak was once a seed. The choicest flower was but a weed, Unpinioned once the eaglet's wing. The river but a trickling spring, The swiftest foot must learn to creep. The proudest man must learn to sweep." H. S. Brooks. There are many who murmur and com- plain at the law of labor under which we live, without reflecting that obedience to it is not only in conformity with the Divine will, but also necessary for the development of intelligence, 3,nd for the thorough enjoyment of our common nature. Of all wretched men, surely the idle are the most so — those whose life is barren of utility, who have nothing to do except to gratify their senses. Are not such men the most querulous, miserable and dissatisfied of all, constantly in a state of languor, alike useless to them- selves and to others — mere cumberers of the earth, who, when removed, are missed by none, and whom none regret? Most wretched and ignoble lot, indeed, is the lot of the idlers. Who have helped the world onward so much as the workers; men who have had to work from necessity or from choice? All that we call progress — civilization, well-being and prosperity — depends upon industry, dili- gently applied — from the culture of a barley- stalk to the construction of a steamship; from the stitching of a collar to the sculptur- ing of "the statue that enchants the world." Repeated Efforts. AH useful and beautiful thoughts, in like manner, are the issue of labor, of study, of observation, of research, of diligent elabora- tion. The noblest poem cannot be elabo- rated, and send down its undying strains into the future, without .steady and painstak- ing labor. No great work has ever been done "at a heat." It is the result of re- peated efforts, and often of many failures. One generation begins, and another continues — the present coperating with the past. Thus, the Parthenon began with a mud-hut; the "Last Judgment" with a few scratches on the sand. It is the same with individuals of the race: they begin with abortive eflbrts, which, by means of perseverance, lead to successful issues. The history of industry is uniform in the character of its illustrations. Industry en- ables the poorest man to achieve honor, if not distinction. The greatest names in the history of art, literature and science are those of laboring men. A working instrument- maker gave us the steam-engine; a barber, the spinning-machine; a weaver, the mule; a pitman perfected the locomotive; and working-men of all grades have, one after another, added to the triumphs of mechanical skill. By the working-man we do not mean I INDUSTRY. 211 merely the man who labors with his muscles and sinews. A horse can do this. But he is pre-eminently the working-man who works with his brain also, and whose whole physical system is under the influence of his higher faculties. The man who paints a picture, who writes a book, who makes a law, who creates a poem, is a working-man of the highest order ; not so necessary to the physical sustainment of the community as the plowman or the shepherd, but not less important as providing for society its highest intellectual nourishment and leading it on- ward and upward. YOUR MISSION. I If you cannot on the ocean Sail among the swiftest fleet, Rocking on the highest billows, Laughing at the storms you meet, You can stand among the sailors, Anchored yet within the bay, You can lend a hand to help them, As they launch their boats away. If you are too weak to journey, Up the mountain steep and high, You can stand within the valley, While the multitudes go by. You can chant in happy measure. As they slowly pass along ; Though they may forget the singer, They will not forget the song. If you have not gold and silver Ever ready to command. If you cannot towards the needy Reach an ever open hand, You can visit the afflicted, O'er the erring you can weep, You can be a true disciple, Sitting at the Saviour's feet. If you cannot in the conflict, Prove yourself a soldier true. If where fire and smoke are thickest. There's no work for you to do, When the battle-field is silent. You can go with careful tread. You can bear away the wounded, You can cover up the dead. Do not then stand idly waiting For some greater work to do. Fortune is a lazy goddess, She will never come to you. Go and toil in any vineyard, Do not fear to do or dare. If j'ou want a field of labor, You can find it anywhere. Ot^. ... . 212 CHAPTER XII. HONESTY. N honest man's the noblest work of God:" so says Alexander Pope. " Honesty is the best poHcy :" so says Ben Franklin. " If a man really thinks that there is no distinction between virtue and vice, when he leaves our houses let us count our spoons :" so says Ben Johnson. " Make yourself an honest man, and then you may be sure there is one less rascal in the world : " so says Thomas Carlyle. Every Egyptian was required by law annually to declare by what means he main- tained himself, and if he omitted to do so or gave no satisfactory account of his way of living, he was punishable with death. This law Solon brought from Egypt to Athens, where it was inviolably observed as a most equitable regulation. If this law were en- acted in our own country a good many would pack up and emigrate. A gentleman jumping from an omnibus in the city of New York, dropped his pocket- book, and had gone some distance before he discovered his loss ; then hastily returning, inquired of eveiy passenger whom he met, if a pocket-book had been seen. Finally, meeting a little girl ten years old, to whom he made the same inquiry, she asked: "What kind of a pocket-book?" He described it — then unfolding her apron : "Is this it?" "Yes, that is mine; come into this store with me." They entered, he opened the book, counted the notes, and examined the papers. "They are all right," said he ; " fifteen notes of a thousand dollars each. Had they fallen into other hands, I might never have seen them again. Take, then, my little girl, this note of a thousand dollars, as a reward for your honesty, and a lesson to me to be more careful in future." "No," said the girl, "I cannot take it. I have been taught at Sunday school not to keep what is not mine, and my parents would not be pleased if I took the note home ; they might suppose I had stolen it." "Well„ then, my girl, show me where your parents live." A Bountiful Gift. The girl took him to a humble tenement in an obscure street, rude but cleanly. He informed the parents of the case. They told him their child had acted correctly. They were poor, it was true, but their pastor had always told them not to set their hearts on rich gifts. The gentleman told them they must take it, and he was convinced they would make a good use of it, from the princi- ple they had professed. The pious parents then blessed their bene- factor, for such he proved. They paid theij debts, which had disturbed their peace, and the benevolent giver furnished the husband and father employment in his occupation as a carpenter, enabling him to rear an indus trious family in comparative happiness. This little girl became the wife of a respectable tradesman of New York, and had reason to rejoice that she was taught aright in early life and practiced what she learned. 213 214 HONESTY. A nobleman traveling in Scotland, a few years ago, was asked for alms in the high street of Edinburgh by a little ragged boy. He said he had no change ; upon which the iboy offered to procure it. His lordship, in ■order to get rid of his importunity, gave him a piece of silver, which the boy conceiving was to be changed, ran off for the purpose. On his return, not finding his benefactor, whom he expected to wait, he watched for several days in the place where he had received the money. At length the noble- man happened again to pass that way. The boy accosted him, and put the change he had procured into his hand, counting it with great exactness. His lordship was so pleased with the boy's honesty that he placed him at school, with the assurance of providing for him. Taken at his Word. A young man had volunteered, and was expecting daily to be ordered to the seat of war. . One day his mother gave him an unpaid bill with money, and asked him to pay it. When he returned home at night she said : " Did you pay that bill ? " " Yes," >he answered. In a few days the bill was ■sent in a second time. "I thought," she ;said to her son, "that you paid this." " I (really don't remember, mother ; you know I've had so many things on my mind." "But you said you did." "Well," he answered, " if I said I did, I did." He went away, and his mother took the bill herself to the shop. The young man had been in the town all his life, and what opinion v/as held of him this will show. "I am quite sure," she said, "that my son paid this some days ago. He has been very busy since, and has quite forgotten about it ; but he told me that day he had, and says if he said then that he had, he is quite sure he did." "Well," said the man, "I forget about it; but if he ever said he did, he did." Wasn't that a grand character to have? An Honest Man. Trust payeth homage unto truth, rewarding honesty of action ; And all men love to lean on him, who never failed nor fainted. Freedom gloweth in his eyes, and nobleness of nature at his heart, And Independence took a crown and fixed it on his head; So he stood in his integrity, just and firm of pur- pose. Aiding many, fearing none, a spectacle to angels and to men ; Yea, when the shattered globe shall rock in the throes of dissolution, Still will he stand in his integrity, sublime — an honest man. M. F. TUPPER. The first step toward greatness is to be honest, says the proverb ; but the proverb fails to state the case strong enough. Hon- esty is not only the first step toward great- ness — it is greatness itself. It is with honesty in one particular as with wealth ; those that have the thing care less about the credit of it than those that have it not. What passes as open-faced honesty is often masked malignity. He who says there is no such thing as an honest man, you may be sure, is himself a knave. When any one complains, as Diogenes did, that he has to hunt the street with candles at noon-day to find an honest man, we are apt to think that his nearest neighbor would have quite as much difficulty as himself in making the discovery. If you think there isn't an honest man living, you had better, for appearance sake, put off saying it until you are dead yourself. Honesty is the best policy, but those who do honest things merely because they think it good policy, are not honest. No man has I THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 215 ever been too honest. Cicero believed that nothing is useful that is not honest. He that walketh uprightly, Vi^alketh surely ; but he that perverteth his ways shall be known. There is an alchemy in a high heart which transmutes other things to its own quality. The truth of the good old maxim, that " Honesty is the best policy," is upheld by the daily experience of life ; uprightness and integrity being found as successful in busi- ness as in everything else. As Hugh Mil- ler's worthy uncle used to advise him, " In all your dealings with your neighbor treat him generously — ' good measure, heaped up, and running over ' — and you will not lose by it in the end." The Road to Fortune. Honesty is the best policy. But no man can be upright, amid the various temptations of life, unless he is honest for the right's sake. You should not be honest from the low motive of policy, but because you feel the better for being honest. The latter will hold you fast, let the element set as it will, let storms blow ever so fiercely ; the former is but a cable of pack-thread, which will snap apart. In the long run, character is better than capital. kMost of the great American merchants, whose revenues outrank those of princes, owe their colossal fortunes principally to a character for integrity and ability. Lay the foundations of a character broad and deep. Build them on a rock, and not on sand. The rains may then descend, the floods rise and the winds blow, but your house will stand. But, establish a character for loose dealings, and lo ! some great tempest will sweep it away. The religious tradesman complains that his honesty is a hindrance to his success ; that the tide of custom pours into the doors of his less scrupulous neighbors in the same street, while he himself waits for hours idle. Do you think that God is going to reward honor, integrity and highmindedness with this world's coin? Do you fancy that he will pay spiritual excellence with plenty of custom ? Now consider the price that man has paid for his success. Perhaps mental degradation and inward dishonor. His advertisements are all deceptive , his treatment of his work- men tyranical ; his cheap prices made pos- sible by inferior articles. Sow that man's seed, and you will reap that man's harvest. Cheat, lie, advertise, be unscrupulous in your assertions, custom will come to you ; but if the price is too dear, let him have his har- vest, and take yours. Yours is a clear con- science, a pure mind, rectitude within and without. Will you part with that for his ? Then why do you complain ? He has paid his price ; you do not choose to pay it. The Ship will go to Pieces. Some, in their passion for sudden accumu- lation, practice secret frauds, and imagine there is no harm in it, so they be not de- tected. But in vain will they cover up their transgressions; for God sees it to the bot- tom; and let them not hope to keep it always from man. The birds of the air sometimes carry the tale abroad. In the long web of events, " Be sure your sin will find you out." He who is carrying on a course of latent corruption and dishonesty, be he president of some mammoth corporation, or engaged only in private transactions, is sailing in a ship Hke that fabled one of old, which ever comes nearer and nearer to a magnetic moun- tain, that will at last draw every nail out of it. All faith in God, and all trust in man, will eventually be lost, and he will get no re- ward for his guilt. The very winds will sigh 216 HONESTY. forth his iniquity; and "a beam will come out of the wall," and convict and smite him. Strict honesty is the crown of one's early days. " Your son will not do for me," was once said to a friend of mine ; "he took pains, the other day, to tell a customer of a small blemish in a piece of goods." The salesboy is sometimes virtually taught to declare that goods cost such or such a sum ; that they are strong, fashionable, perfect, when the whole story is false. So is the bloom of a God-inspired truthfulness not seldom brushed from the cheek of our simple-hearted children. We hope and trust these cases are rare but even one such house as we allude to may ruin the integrity and the fair fame of many a lad. God grant our young men to feel that " an honest man is the noblest work of God," and, under all temptations, to live as they feel. Cannot Stand the Trial. The possession of the principle of honesty is a matter known most intimately to the man and his God, and fully only to the latter. No man knows the extent and strength of his own honesty until he has passed the fiery ordeal of temptation. Men who shudder at the dishonesty of others, at one time in life, then sailing before the favorable wind of prosperity, when ad- versity overtakes them, their honesty too often flies away on the same wings with their riches, and, what they once viewed with holy horror, they now practice with shameless impunity. Others, at the commencement of a pros- perous career, are quite above any tricks in trade ; but their love of money increases with their wealth, their honesty relaxes, they become hard honest men, then hardly honest, and are, finally, confirmed in dishonesty. On the great day of account, it will be found that men have erred more in judging of the honesty of others than in any one thing else; not even religion excepted. Many who have been condemned, and had the stigma of dishonesty fixed upon them, because misfortune disabled them from pay- ing their just debts, will stand acquitted by the Judge of quick and dead, whilst others cover dishonest hearts and actions, undetected by man. A False Motto. It is our earnest desire to eradicate the impression, so fatal to many a young roan, that one cannot live by being perfectly honest. You must have known men who have gone on for years in unbroken prosperity and yet never adopted that base motto, "All is fair in trade." You must have seen, too, noble examples of those who have met with losses and failures, and yet risen from them all with a conscious integrity, and who have been sustained by the testimony of all around them, that, though unfortunate, they were never dishonest? When we set before you such examples, when we show you, not only that "Honesty is the best policy," but that it is the very keystone of the whole arch of manly and Christian qualities, every sincere heart must respond to the appeal. Many beautiful incidents of this virtue are related, and the following will be likely to interest every reader . One evening a poor man and his son, a little boy, sat by the wayside near the gate of an old town in Germany. The father took out a loaf of bread which he had bought in the town, and broke it, and gave half to his boy. "Not so, father," said the boy; "I shall not eat until after you. You have been working hard all day, for small wages, to support me ; and you must be very hungry ; THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 217 I shall wait till you have done." "You speak kindly, my son," replied the pleased father; "your love to me does me more good than my food; and those eyes of yours remind me of your dear mother who has left us, who told you to love me as you used to do ; and indeed, my boy, you have been a great strength and comfort to me ; but now that I have eaten the first morsel to please you, it is your turn now to eat." " Thank you, father ; but break this piece in two, and take you a little more, for you see the loaf is not large, and you require much more than I do." " I shall divide the loaf for you, my boy ; but eat it I shall not ; I have abundance ; and let us thank God for his great goodness in giving us food, and in giving us what is better still, cheerful and contented hearts. He who gave us the liv- ing bread from heaven, to nourish our immortal souls, how shall he not give us all other food which is necessaiy to support our mortal bodies? " The Loaf was Loaded. The father and son thanked God, and then began to cut the loaf in pieces, to begin their frugal meal. But as they cut one por- tion of the loaf, there fell out several large pieces of gold of great value. The little boy gave a shout of joy, and was springing for- ward to grasp the unexpected treasure, when he was pulled back by his father ; " My son, my son ! " he cried, " do not touch that money : it is not ours." " But whose is it, father, if it is not ours ? " "I know not, as yet, to whom it belongs ; but probably it was put there by the baker through some mis- take. We must inquire ; run. " " But, father," interrupted the boy, " you are poor and needy, and you have bought the loaf, and the baker may tell a lie, and " " I will not listen to you, my boy. I bought the loaf, but I did not buy the gold in it. If the baker sold it to me in ignorance,, I shall not be so dishonest as to take advan- tage of him. Remember him who told us to do to others as we would have others to do to us. The baker may possibly cheat us. I am poor, indeed, but that is no sin. If wc share the poverty of Jesus, God's own Son, oh ! let us share, also, his goodness and his trust in God. — We may never be rich, but we may always be honest. We may die of starvation, but God's will be done, should we die in doing it ! Yes, my boy, trust God, and walk in his ways, and you shall never be put to shame ! Now run to the baker, and bring him here, and I shall watch the gold until he comes." The Honestest Man in Town. So the boy ran for the baker. " Brother workman," said the old man, " you have made some mistake, and almost lost your money ; " and he showed the baker the gold,, and told him how it had been found. " Is it thine? " asked the father ; " if it is, take it away." " My father, baker, is very poor, and " "Silence, my child; put me not to shame by thy complaints. I am glad we have saved this man from losing his money." The baker had been gazing alternately upon the honest father and his eager boy,, and upon the gold which lay glittering upon the green turf — " Thou art indeed an honest fellow," said the baker ; " and my neighbor David, the flax-dresser, spoke but the truth when he said thou wert the honestest man in our town. Now I shall tell thee about the gold. A stranger came to my shop three days ago, and gave it me to sell it cheaply, or give it away, to the honestest poor man whom I knew in the city. I told David to send thee to me, as a customer, this morning ; and as thou wouldst not take THE FIRST WRONG ACT. THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 219 the loaf for nothing, I sold it to thee, as thou knowest, for the last pence in thy purse; and the loaf, with all its treasure — and, surely, it is not small ! — is thine, and God grant thee a blessing with it! " The poor father bent his head to the ground, while the tears fell from his eyes. His boy ran and put his hand about his neck, and said, " I shall always, like you, my father, trust God, and do what is right ; for I am sure it will never put me to shame." Selling Honesty. Yet there be others, that will truckle to a lie, selling honesty for interest ; And do they gain ? They gain but loss ; a little cash, with scorn. Behold the sorrowful change wrought upon a fallen nature : He hath lost his own esteem and other men's respect ; For the buoyancy of upright faith, he is clothed in the heaviness of cringing. For plain truth, where none could err, he hath chosen tortuous paths ; In lieu of his majesty of countenance, the timorous glances of servility, Instead of Freedom's honest pride, the spirit of a slave. M. F. TuppER. In early life Dr. Adam Clarke was placed with a Mr. Bennet, a linen merchant of Cole- raine, in the north of Ireland. In his auto- biography the doctor remarks, when speaking of the business in which he was engaged, " he thought he saw several things in it that he could hardly do with a clear conscience." It would, perhaps, not be uninteresting to know what were these " several things." One of them was as follows : Mr. Bennet and Mr. Clarke were one day engaged in preparing the linen for the great market in Dublin, measuring how many yards there were in each piece, Adam laying hold of one end and Mr. Bennet of the other. They found that one piece wanted a couple of inches to make a complete yard at the end. "Come, Adam," says Mr. Bennet, "lay hold of the piece and pull against me, and we shall soon make it come up to the yard." Alas ! he little knew whom he had to deal with. His Conscience would not Stretch. Adam dropped the linen on the ground, stood and looked like one counfounded. "What's the matter?" said Mr. Bennet. " Sir," says he, " I can't do it ; I think it is a wrong thing." "Nonsense," says Mr. Ben- net, "it is done every day ; it won't make the hnen a bit the worse ; the process it has passed through has made it shrink a little. Come, take hold." "No," says he, "no." Mr. Bennet was a very placid man, and they entered into a dispute about this piece of linen, until, at last, he was obliged to give it up ; it was a lost case ; Adam would not consent to meddle with it ; he thought it was not fair ; at least it did not suit the standard of his conscience. Thus early exemplifying that scrupulous honesty for which he was during life remarkable. He afterward became celebrated for his Commentaries on the Bible. Some years ago, two aged men near Mar- shalton traded, or, according to Virginia par- lance, " swapped " horses on this condition: that on that day week, the one who thought he had the best of the bargain should pay to the other two bushels of wheat. The day came, and, as luck would have it, they met about half way between their respective homes. "Where art thou going?" said one. "To thy house with the wheat," answered the other. "And whither art thou riding?" "Truly," replied the first, "I was taking the wheat to thy house." Each, pleased with his bargain, had thought the wheat justly due to his neighbor, and was going to pay it. The Prince of Conti being highly pleased 220 HONESTY. with the intrepid behavior of a grenadier at the siege of Phillipsburgh in 1734, threw him his purse, excusing the smallness of the sum it contained as being too poor a reward for his courage. Next morning the grena- dier went to the prince with a couple of diamond rings and other jewels of consider- able value. "Sir," said he, "the gold I found in your purse I suppose your highness in- tended for me; but these I bring back to you as having no claim on them." "You have, soldier," answered the prince, " doubly de- served them by your bravery and by your honesty; therefore they are yours." Making Money Fast. An honest young man has in his bosom a treasure of more real value than the wealth of nations. Should I be asked, what would most contribute to a man's success, in any vocation whatever, I would reply: Honesty. Should I be asked what would most certainly prevent success, I would reply: Dishonesty. Now it occurs, that to dishonest practices, the young men of our land are particularly exposed. While females are protected from the temptations to this sin, while from the peculiarity of their situation in society, they are to a considerable extent secure, young men are surrounded with inducements and temp- tations. Just commencing life, they wish to do well, and not unfrequently imagine, that to succeed they must make money fast, and get rich quick, and hence to secure this, will embark in many a scheme of doubtful char- acter. The expenses of poor young men are generally more than equal to their income, and if they are bent on living extravagantly, they will be tempted to enter into many a course of folly and crime to obtain the neces- sary funds. But however expert the dishon- est man may be, however long he may go on uninterrupted in his villany, however successful he may be at the onset, he will assuredly fail. The forger cannot long continue that sin without detection ; the counterfeiter will as- suredly be taken in his own snare; the gambler will come to poverty, and the thief will bring himself to the prison and the dungeon. There is no safety for a young man in the early period of life, without strict and unbending integrity in word and deed. Complete failure will sooner or later, come upon every man who does not subscribe to the principles of rectitude. I know that dishonesty is prevalent. I know that it exists everywhere, and to a fearful extent enters into all the affairs of life. As Shakes- peare says: " To be honest, as this world goes, Is to be one picked out of ten thousand." Very Dear Success. Not seldom is the clerk taught to inform the customer, that certain goods cost such a sum, that they are durable and fashionable, when he knows it to be false. Not seldom is the ignorance of the purchaser made the cause of a "good trade," and apprentices are led to look upon such a fraud as a harmless transaction. In these and a thousand other ways are the principles of honesty shame- fully violated and outraged, and the basis is laid for a long and aggravated course of crime and duplicity. But the old maxim, "honesty is the best poHcy," will be found to be true in all the transactions of life. What though a man does make a mo- mentary advance in his business by dis- honesty? What though at the end of each year he is a hundred dollars richer than he- would have been but for his fraud? What though he may have enlarged his store, and beautified his residence, and secured the THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 221 smiles of the wealthy? What though he is enabled to ride in his carriage, and dress in gilt and gold? Will not the vengeance of God follow him? Will not his ill-gotten gains rust and canker his heart? Will not commercial distress or some other element of destruction sweep away his property, taking the well-earned with the ill-gotten? I knew a young man who started in life with high hopes and prospects. He had a little property to commence with, and was determined that it should increase at all hazard. Honestly or dishonestly, he was bound to be rich. His motto was, "All is right in trade," and well did he carry it out. He thought it was the duty of his customers to find out the defects in the goods which they purchased of him ; they were the ones to discover what was bad in the bargain. He supposed he was clear when he had made the sale, and felt compelled by no principle of morality to help his customers make good bargains. Like a Clap of Thunder. Thus it continued awhile. He would openly boast of having made this sum and that sum, from this and that person. He seemed to be growing rich, his place of busi- ness was crowded. His fair stories and smooth looks drew a crowd of visitors, and for awhile he made money very rapidly. When he least expected it, a great failure in another city occurred, the intelligence of which came upon him hke a clap of thunder on a cloudless day. Other failures followed, and he began to reap the reward of his dis- honesty. When he began to sink, reports of his dishonesty, which until then had been hushed, spread hke wild-fire, and soon he found it impossible to continue his business. Those who had money and goods were afraid of him. Confidence in his character was gone, and he was obliged to relinquish business entirely, move from the fine house in which he lived, and become a clerk, and was looked upon with suspicion even at that. I have known other men in business who have met with' disasters and failures, and have stood unaffected by them, superior to their crushing influence, from the simple fact that they were honest men, and could look community in the face with a consciousness that though they were unfortunate, they were not guilty. "You can Trust Him." Thompson, in his lectures to young men, states the following fact: "The president of the old United States Bank, once dismissed a private clerk, because the latter refused to write for him on the Sabbath. The young man, with a mother dependent on his exer- tions, was thus thrown out of employment, by what some would call an over-nice scruple of conscience. But a few days after, when the President was requested to nomi- nate a cashier for another bank, he recom- mended this very individual, mentioning this incident as a sufficient testimony to his trust- worthiness. 'You can trust him,' said he, 'for he would not work for me on the Sab- bath.' " Awhile since, a young man was dismissed from his place, because he would not become party to a falsehood, by which refusal the firm failed to secure several hundred dollars which did not belong to them, but which they expected to obtain. For the crime of honesty and truth the young man was dis- missed from his position. A few days after- wards, hearing of a vacant situation, he appHed for it. The merchant who wished him for an accountant, asked if he could refer him to 222 HONESTY. any individual by whom he was known, and who would recommend him as an upright young man. With conscious innocence, and firm in his uprightness, he replied, " I have just been dismissed from Mr. 's, of whom you may inquire. He has tried me, he has known me." When applied to, his former employer gave a full and free recom- mendation, and added, " He was too con- scientious about little matters." The young man is now partner in a large firm in Boston, and is apparently becoming rich. A Treasure above Price. A multitude of cases might be added, illus- trating the value of honesty, and the great danger and shame of falsehood and fraud. Business men will rehearse them to you by scores, and prove that under any circum- stances " honesty is the best policy." And so you will find it in all your dealings with your fellow-men, and as you grow older in life, the conviction will become stronger and deeper, that a good reputation for honesty and manliness is above all price. "The purest treasure mortal lives afford, Is spotless reputation ; that away, Men are but gilded worms or painted clay." Remember these things as you advance in life, and as you grow older preserve your integrity. Be above the little arts and tricks of small men, and if you grow rich, let it be by honest and patient industry. Build not up a fortune from the labors of others, from the unpaid debts of creditors, from the uncer- tain games of chance, but from manly effort, which never goes unrewarded. Never engage in any business unless you can be honest in it ; if it will not give a fair living without fraud, leave it, as you would the gate of death. If, after all, you are poor, if by exerting yourself nobly and manfully, if by living honestly and uprightly you cannot secure a competency, then submit to poverty, aye, to hard, grinding poverty. Be willing, if it must be so, to breast the cold tide of want and sorrow, see your flesh waste day by day, and your blood beat more heavily, than make yourself rich at the expense of honesty. Rewards of Honesty. All is vanity which is not honesty — thus is it graven on the tomb ; I speak of honest purpose, character, speech, and action. Honesty, even by itself, though making many adver- saries Whom prudence might have set aside, or charity have softened. Evermore will prosper at the last, and gain a man great honor. M. F. TUPPER. The following incident is a striking illus- tration of the saying that honesty is the best policy : Two boys came at an early hour to a country market-town. They spread out their little stands, and sat down to wait for customers. One of them sold melons and fruit, the others dealt in oysters and fish. The market hours passed on, and they were both doing well. The goods on their stands were gradually getting less, and the money in their pockets gradually getting more. The last melon lay on Harry's stand. A gentleman came by, and placing his hand on it, said, "What a fine large melon ! I think I must buy it. What do you ask for it, my boy? " " The melon is the last I have, sir, and though it looks very fair, there is an unsound spot on the other side," said the boy, turning it over. "So there is," said the man, "I think I'll not take it. "But," he added, looking in the boy's face, " is it very business-like to point THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 223 out the defects of your goods to customers ? " " Perhaps not, sir but it's better than being dishonest," said the boy, modestly. "You are right, my boy ; always remem- ber to speak the truth, and you will find favor with God and man. You have nothing else that I wish this morning, but I shall not forget your little stand in the future." Then, turning to Ben Wilson's stand, he asked, "Are those oysters fresh? " "Yes, sir, fresh this morning," was the reply. The gentleman bought them and went away. " Harry, what a fool you were to show the gentleman that spot in the melon ! Now you can take it home for your pains, or throw it away. How much wiser I was about those stale oysters ; sold them at the same price as the fresh ones. He would never have looked at the melon till he got home." " Ben, I wouldn't tell a lie, or act one either for twice the money we've both earned to-day. Besides, I shall be better off in the end, for I have gained a customer, and you have lost one." And so it proved ; for the next day the gentleman bought a large supply of fruit from Harry, but he never spent another penny at Ben's stand. So it continued all through the summer. At the close of the season he took Harry into his store, and, after awhile, gave him a share in the business. There are some things that pay. KING CANUTE TRYING TO SWEEP BACK THE OCEAN. 224 CHAPXKR XIII. TRUTHFULNESS. F I take out my watch to find what time it is, it will be of little use for me to look at it unless I am sure that it keeps good time. If it sometimes stands still for an hour or more and then goes on again ; if it sometimes loses two or three hours a day by going too slow, or gains as much more by going too fast, then I cannot depend upon it. A watch that cannot be depended upon is of very little use. It may have a beautiful gold case, it may be sparkling with jewels, yet it will be of no service to me as a watch unless I can depend on what it tells me about the time. We do not judge of the value of a watch by the kind of case it has, but by finding out whether it keeps good time. And so, one of the things by which we judge of the real value and worth of men or women, of boys or girls, is this : Are they truthful ? Do they mean what they say ? Are they really what they seem to be ? If they speak the truth and act the truth, then they are like a watch that keeps good time. A gentleman once asked a deaf and dumb boy, " What is truth?" He replied by taking a piece of chalk and drawing on the black- board a straight line between two points. Then he asked him, " What is a lie ?" The boy rubbed out the straight line, and drew a zig-zag (or crooked line) between the same two points. Remember this. Truth is the beginning of every good thing, both in heaven and on earth ; and he who would be blessed and happy should be from the first a partaker of the truth, that he may live a true man as long as possible, for then he can be trusted ; but he is not to be trusted who loves voluntary falsehood, and he who loves involuntary falsehood is a fool. She Did a Large Business. Here is what Ben Franklin has to say on the subject of truth and deception: "A friend of mine was the other day cheapening some trifles at a shopkeeper's, and after a few words they agreed on a price. At the tying up of the parcels he had pur- chased, the mistress of the shop told him that people were growing very hard, for she actually lost by everything she sold. How, then, is it possible, said my friend, that you can keep on your business. Indeed, sir, answered she, I must of necessity shut my doors, had I not a very great trade. The reason, said my friend (with a sneer), is admirable. "There are a great many retailers who falsely imagine that lying is much for their advantage; and some of them have a saying that it is a pity lying is a sin, it is so useful in trade; though, if they would examine into the reason why a number of shop- keepers raise considerable estates, while others who have set out with better for- tunes have become bankrupts, they would find that the former made up with truth 225 226 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. diligence and probity, what they were de- ficient of in stock; while the latter have been guilty of imposing on such customers as they found had no skill in the quality of their goods. "The former character raises a credit which supplies the want of fortune, and their fair dealing brings them customers; whereas none will i-eturn to buy of him by whom he has been once imposed upon. If people in trade would judge rightly, we might buy blindfolded, and they would save both to themselves and customers the unpleasant- ness of haggling. "Though there are numbers of shopkeep- ers who scorn the mean vice of lying, and whose word may very safely be relied on, yet there are too many who will endeavor, and, backing their falsities with assevera- tions, pawn their salvation to raise their prices. Never Told a Lie. "As example works more than precept, and my sole view being the good and inter- est of my countrymen, whom I could wish to see without any vice or folly, I shall offer an example of the veneration bestowed on truth and abhorrence of falsehood among the ancients. "Augustus, triumphing over Mark An- tony and Cleopatra, among other captives who accompanied them brought to Rome a priest of about sixty years old. The Senate, being informed that this man had never been detected in a falsehood, and was believed never to have told a lie, not only restored him to liberty, but made him a High Priest, and caused a statue to be erected to his honor. The priest thus honored was an Egyptian, and an enemy to Rome; but his virtue removed all ob- stacles. " Pamphilius was a Roman citizen whose body upon his death was forbidden sepul- ture, his estate was confiscated, his house razed, and his wife and children banished the Roman territories, wholly for his having been a notorious and inveterate liar. "Could there be greater demonstrations of respect for truth than these of the Romans, who elevated an enemy to the greatest honors, and exposed the family of a citizen to the greatest contumely? Will Lie and Swear to It. "There can be no excuse for lying; neither is there anything equally despicable and dangerous as a liar, no man being safe who associates with him ; for, he who will lie will swear to it, says the proverb, and such a one may endanger my life, turn my family out of doors, and ruin my reputation, when- ever he shall find it his interest; and if a man will lie and swear to it in his shop to obtain a trifle, why should we doubt his doing so when he may hope to make a fortune by his perjury? The crime is in itself so mean, that to call a man a liar is esteemed everywhere an affront not to be forgiven. " If any have lenity enough to allow the dealers an excuse for this bad practice, I believe they will allow none for the gentle- man who is addicted to this vice, and must look upon him with contempt. That the world does so is visible by the derision with which his name is treated whenever it is mentioned. " The philosopher Epimenides gave the Rhodians this description of truth : She is the companion of the gods, the joy of heaven, the light of the earth, the pedestal of justice, and the basis of good policy. " Eschines told the same people that truth was a virtue without which force was en- TRUTHFULNESS. feebled, justice corrupted, humility became dissimulation, patience intolerable, chastity a dissembler, liberty lost, and pity superfluous. for all evils, and a light to the whole world. "Anaxarchus, speaking of truth, said it was health incapable of sickness, life not sub- " ISO \IRTUE OF MORE NOBLE WORTH, THAN TRUTH, FROM HEAVEN BROUGHT TO EARTH. " Pharmanes, the philosopher, told the Romans that truth was the centre on which all things rested : a chart to sail by, a remedy ject to death, an elixir that healeth all, a sun not to be obscured, a moon without eclipse, an herb which never withereth, a gate that 228 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. is never closed, and a path which never fatigues the traveller. " But, if we are blind to the beauties of truth, it is astonishing that we should not open our eyes to the inconvenience of falsity. A man given to romance must be always on his guard for fear of contradicting and ex- posing himself to derision ; for it is impos- sible, with the utmost circumspection, to travel long on this route without detection, and shame and confusion follow. Whereas, he who is a votary of truth never hesitates for an answer, has never to rack his inven- tion to make the sequel quadrate with the beginning of his story, nor is he obliged to burden his memory with minute circurn- stances, since truth speaks easily what it recollects, and repeats openly and frequently without varying facts, which liars cannot always do, even though gifted with a good memory." The Angel of Truth. Hard by Truth's temple A lovely being stood ; Arrayed in white, The symbol of her God. The unholy throng passed by. And stood aghast ; Said, Let me be like her, And on they passed. There's beauty in that form Not elsewhere seen ; It's in her name and nature, And her stately mien. Her name is Truth, A lovely Christian grace ; Among heaven's mighty She ever holds her place. The earth shall pass away. The stars shall fall. The heavens roll together L,ike a parchment scroll ; But truth shall live forever. And through endless ages give Her blessings to the sainted, And fail them never, never. Honesty and truthfulness go well together. Honesty is truth, and truth is honesty. Truth alone may not constitute a great man, but it is the most iinportant element of a great character. It gives security to those who employ him, and confidence to those who serve under him. Truth is the essence of principle, integrity, and independence. It is the primary need of every man. Absolute veracity is more needed now than at any former period in our history. Dare to be True. Lying, common though it be, is de- nounced even by the liar himself He pro- tests that he is speaking the truth, for he knows that truth is universally respected, while lying is universally condemned. Lying is not only dishonest, but cowardly. " Dare to be true," said George Herbert ; " nothing can ever need a lie." The most mischiev- ous liars are those who keep on the verge of truth. They have not the courage to speak out the fact, but go round about it, and tell what is really untrue. A lie which is half the truth is the worst of lies. There is a duplicity of life which is quite as bad as verbal falsehood. Actions have as plain a voice as words. The mean man is false to his profession. He evades the truth that he professes to believe. He plays at double dealing. He wants sincerity and veracity. The sincere man speaks as he thinks, believes as he pretends to believe, acts as he professes to act, and performs as he promises. "Other forms of practical contradiction are common," says Mr. Spurgeon ; " some are intolerantly liberal ; others are ferocious advocates for peace, or intemperate on intem- perance. We have known pleaders for generosity who were themselves miserably stingy. We have heard of persons who TRUTHFULNESS. 22» •have been wonderful sticklers for 'the truth ' — meaning thereby a certain form of doctrine — and yet they have not regarded the truth in matters of buying and selling, or with regard to the reputations of their neighbors, or the incidents of domestic life." Lying is one of the most common and conventional of vices. It prevails in what is called " society." " Not at home " is the fashionable mode of reply to a visitor. Lying is supposed to be so necessary to carry on human affairs that it is tacitly agreed to. One lie may be considered harmless, another slight, another unintended. Little lies are common. However tolerated, lying is more or less loathsome to every pure-minded man or woman. "Lies," says Ruskin, "may be light and accidental, but they are an ugly soot from the smoke of the pit, and it is better that our hearts should be swept clean of them, without our care as to which is largest or blackest." Regulus Returned and Died. A man should care more for his word than for his life. When Regulus was sent by the Carthaginians, whose prisoner he was, to Rome, with a convoy of ambassadors to sue for peace, it was under the condition that he should return to his prison if peace were not effected. He took the oath, and swore that he would come back. When he appeared at Rome he urged the senators to persevere in the war, and not to agree to the exchange of prisoners. That involved his return to captivity at Carthage. The senators, and even the chief priest, held that as his oath had been wrested from him by force, he was not bound to go. " Have you resolved to dishonor me ? " asked Regu- lus. "I am not ignorant that death and tor- tures are preparing for me ; but what are these to the shame of an infamous action, or the wounds of a guilty mind ? Slave as I am to Carthage, I have still the spirit of a Roman. I have sworn to return. It is my duty to go. Let the gods take care of the rest." Regulus returned to Carthage, and died under torture. How to Live Well. " Let him that would live well," said Plato, "attain to truth, and then, and not before, he will cease from sorrow." Let us also cite a passage from the Emperor Marcus Aurelius : " He who acts unjustly acts im- piously ; for since the universal nature has made rational animals for the sake of one another, to help one another according to their deserts, but in no way to injure one another, he who transgresses his will is clearly guilty of impiety toward the highest divinity. And he, too, that lies is guilty of impiety to the same divinity, from the universal nature of all things that are ; and all things that are have a relation to alL things that come into existence. "And further, this universal nature is named truth, and is the prime cause of all things that are true. He, then, who lies intentionally is guilty of impiety, inasmuch as. he acts unjustly by deceiving ; and he also, who lies unintentionally, inasmuch as he is at variance with the universal nature, and inasmuch as he disturbs the order by fight- ing against the nature of the world; for he fights against it who is moved of himself to that which is contrary to truth, for he has received powers from nature, through the neglect of which he is not able now to dis- tinguish falsehood from truth. And, indeed, he who pursues pleasure as good, and avoids pain as evil, is guilty of impiety." Truth and honesty show themselves in various ways. They characterize the men 1 of just dealing, the faithful men of business. 230 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. the men who will not deceive you to their own advantage. Honesty is the plainest and humblest manifestation of the principle of truth. Full measures, just weights, true samples, full service, strict fulfillment of engagements, are all indispensable to men of character. All bad work is lying. It is thoroughly dishonest. You pay for having a work done well ; it is done badly and dishonestly. It may be varnished over with a fair show of sufficiency, but the sin is not discovered until it is too late. So long as these things con- tinue, it is in vain to talk of the dignity of labor, or of the social value of the so-called workingman. There can be no dignity of labor where there is no truthfulness of work. Dignity does not consist in hollowness and in light-handedness, but in substantiality and in strength. If there be flimsiness and super- ficiality of all kinds apparent in the work of the present day more than in the work of our forefathers, whence comes it ? From eager- ness and competition, and the haste to be rich Do Your Best. Socrates explained how usfful and excel- lent a thing it was that a n an should re- solve on perfection in his own line, so that, if he be a carpenter, he will be the best possible carpenter; or if a statesman, that he will be the best possible statesman. It is by such means that true success is achieved. Such a carpenter, Socrates said, would win the wreath of carpentering, though it was only of shavings. Take the case of Wedgewood, who had the spirit of the true worker. Though risen from the ranks, he was never satisfied until he had done his best. He looked especially to the quality of his work, to the purposes it would serve, and to the appreciation of it by others. This was the source of his work and success. He would tolerate n^ inferior work. If it did not come up to hi.« idea of what it should be, he would take up his stick, break the vessel, and throw it away, saying, "This won't do for Josiah Wedgewood !" Of course he took the greatest care to insure perfection, as regarded geometrical proportions, glaze, form and ornament. He pulled down kiln after kiln to effect some necessary improvement. He learned perfec- tion through repeated failures. He invented and improved almost every tool used in his works. He passed much of his time at the bench beside his workmen, instructing them individually. How he succeeded his works will show. He Kept his Word. Another instance of true honesty and courage may be mentioned in the case of a great contractor. We mean Thomas Bras- sey. Even when slighting was common, he was always true to his word and work. The Barentin viaduct of twenty-seven arches was nearly completed, when, loaded with wet after a heavy fall of rain, the whole building tumbled down. The casualty involved a loss of ^150,000. The contractor was neither morally nor legally responsible. He had repeatedly protested against the material used in the structure, and the French law- yers maintained that his protest freed him from liability. But Mr. Brassey was of a different opinion. He had contracted, he said, to make and maintain the road, and no law should pre- vent him from being as good as his word. The viaduct was rebuilt at Mr. Brassey's cost. His life is one of the highest exam- ples we can offer to this generation. There is more or less deception in all kinds of business. It used to be said there TRUTHFULNESS. 231 was "no God west of the Mississippi," but some persons might be disposed to think- there is no God east of that river. The almighty dollar is the true divinity, and its worship is universal. A Sacramento paper says that "Americans are a money-loving and money-making peo- ple. They have no queen or aristocracy to rule them ; their aristocracy is money. The lust of wealth overrides every other con- sideration. Fraud in trade is the rule in- stead of the exception. We poison our provisions with adulteration. We even poison our drugs with cheaper materials. We sell shoddy for wool. Wc sell veneer- ing for solid wood. We build wretched sheds of bad brick and bad mortar and green wood, and call them houses. We rob and cheat each other all round, and in every trade and business, and we are all so bent on making money that we have not time to protest against even the more pal- pable frauds, but console ourselves by going forth and swindling somebody else. We pay a very heavy price for our national idiosyncrasy. We are rapidly destroying •ur national sense of honesty and integrity. Fraud is Criminal. " In those benighted and slavish countries which are ruled by monarchs they contrive to live a great deal cheaper and a good deal better than we can. There fraud is regarded as criminal, and the impostor, when detected, is punished severely. But those are old fogy countries, who know nothing about liberty. They have no Fourth of July, no Wall Street, no codfish or shoddy aristocracies. They do not recognize the fact that the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness (which means money), entitles every man to cheat his neighbors, and bars redress." In the arithmetic of the counting-house two and two do not always make four. How many tricks are resorted to — in which hon- esty forms no part — for making money faster than others ! Instead of working patiently and well for a modest living, many desire to get rich all at once. The spirit of the age is not that of a trader, but of a gambler. The pace is too fast to allow of any one stopping to inquire as to those who have fallen out by the way. They press on ; the race for wealth is for the swift. Their faith is in money. It needs no prophet to point out the connection of our distress with the sin of commercial gambling and fraud, and of social extrava- gance and vanity, of widespread desolation and misery. The inevitable failure comes, and the recreant flies to avoid the curses of his creditors. A Poor German Peasant, Here is a fine specimen of honesty and truthfulness on the part of a poor German peasant. Bernardin de Saint-Pierre has told the story. He was serving as an engineer under the Count de Saint-Germain during his campaign in Hesse, in 1760. For the first time he became familiar with the horrors of war. Day by day he passed through sacked villages and devastated fields and farm-yards. Men, women, and children were flying from their cottages in tears. Armed men were everywhere destroying the fruits of their labor, regarding it as part of their glory. But in the midst of so many acts of cruelty Saint-Pierre was consoled by a sublime trait of character displayed by a poor man whose cottage and farm lay in the way of the advancing army. A captain of dragoons was ordered out with his troop to forage for provisions. They reached a poor cabin and knocked at the door. An old man with a white beard appeared. " Take me to a field," said the 232 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. officer, "where I can obtain forage for my troops." "Immediately, sir," replied the old man. He put himself at their head, and ascended the valley. After about half an hour's march a fine field of barley appeared. "This will do admirably," said the officer. "No," said the old man ; "wait a httle, and all will be right." They went on again, until they reached another field of barley. The troops dismounted, mowed down the grain, and trussing it up in bundles, put them on their horses. "Friend, said the officer, "how is it that you have brought us so far? The first field of barley that we saw was quite as good as this." "That is quite true," said the peasant, " but it was not mine !" "I was there to See Myself." The true character acts rightly, whether in secret or in the sight of men. That boy was well trained who, when asked why he did not pocket some pears, for nobody was there to see, replied: "Yes, there was; I was there to see myself; and I don't intend ever to see myself do a dishonest thing." This is a simple but not inappropriate illustra- tion of principle, or conscience, dominating in the character, and exercising a noble pro- tectorate over it; not merely a passive influ- ence, but an active power regulating the hfe. Such a principle goes on molding the character hourly and daily, growing with a force that operates every moment. With- out this dominating influence, character has no protection, but is constantly liable to fall away before temptation ; and every such temptation succumbed to, every act of mean- ness or dishonesty, however slight, causes self-degradation. It matters not whether the act be successful or not, discovered or concealed ; the culprit is no longer the same, but another person ; and he is pursued by a secret uneasiness, by self-reproach, or the workings of what we call conscience, which is the inevitable doom of the guilty. There is a truthfulness in action, as well as in words, which is essential to uprightness of character. A man must really be what he seems or purposes to be. When an Ameri- can gentleman wrote to Granville Sharp, that from respect for his great virtues he had named one of his sons after him, Sharp re- plied : " I must request you to teach him a favorite maxim of the family whose name you have given him — Always endeavor to be really what you would wish to appear. This maxim, as my father informed me, was care- fully and humbly practiced by his father, whose sincerity, as a plain and honest man, thereby became the principal feature of his character, both in public and private life." Every man who respects himself, and values the respect of others, will carry out the maxim in act — doing honestly what he proposes to do — putting the highest charac- ter into his work, slighting nothing, but priding himself upon his integrity and con- scientiousness. Once Cromwell said to Bernard — a clever but somewhat unscrupulous lawyer : " I un- derstand that you have lately been vastly wary in your conduct : do not be too con- fident of this: subtlety may deceive you,. integrity never will." Men whose acts are at variance with their words command no respect, and what they say has but little weight : even truths, when uttered by them, seem to come blasted from their lips. The Warfare of Truth. Once this soft turf, this rivulet's sands, Were trampled by a hurrying crowd, And fiery hearts and armed hands Encountered in the battle-cloud. Ah ! never shall the land forget How gushed the life-blood of her brave — TRUTHFULNESS. 233 I Gashed, warm with hope and courage yet, Upon the soil they fought to save. Now all is calm and fresh and still ; Alone the chirp of flitting bird, And talk of children on the hill. And bell of wandering kine, are heard. No solemn host goes trailing by The black-mouthed gun and staggering wain ; Men start not at the battle-cr>- — O, be it never heard again ! Soon rested those who fought ; but thou Who minglest in the harder strife For truths which men receive not now, Thy warfare only ends with life. A friendless warfare ! lingering long Through weary day and weary year ; A wild and many-weaponed throng Hang on thy front and flank and rear. Yet nerve thy spirit to the proof, And blanch not at thy chosen lot ; The timid good may stand aloof, The sage may frown— yet faint thou not. Nor heed the shaft too surely cast. The foul and hissing bolt of scorn ; For with thy side shall dwell, at last, The victory of endurance born. Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again — The eternal years of God are hers ; But Error, wounded, writhes in pain. And dies among his worshippers. Yea, though thou lie upon the dust, When they who helped thee flee in fear, Die full of hope and manly trust. Like those who fell in battle here ! Another hand thy sword shall wield. Another hand the standard wave, Till from the trumpet's mouth is pealed The blast of triumph o'er thy grave. William Cullen Bryant. Oh, how great is the power of truth ! which of its own power can easily defend itself against all the ingenuity and cunning wisdom of men, and against the treacherous plots of all the world. The firmest and noblest ground on which people can live is truth ; the real with the real ; a ground on which nothing is assumed. To love truth for truth's sake is the prin- cipal part of human perfection in this world, and the seed-plot of all other virtues. The germs of all truth lie in the soul, and when the ripe moment comes, the truth within answers to the fact without as the flower responds to the sun, giving it form for heat and color for light. Story of a Cobbler, We read a pretty story of St. Anthony, who, being in the wilderness, led there a very hard and strait life, insomuch that none at that time did the like ; to whom came a voice from heaven, saying, "Anthony, thou art not so perfect as is a cobbler that dwelleth at Alexandria." Anthony, hearing this, rose up forthwith, and took his staff, and went till he came to Alexandria, where he found the cobbler. The cobbler was astonished to see so reverend a father come to his house. Then Anthony said unto him, " Come and tell me thy whole conversation, and how thou spendest thy time." "Sir," said the cobbler, " as for me, good works have I none ; for my life is but simple and slender. I am but a poor cobbler. Jn the morning when I rise, I pray for the whole city wherein I dwell, especially for all such neighbors and poor friends as I have ; after, I set me at my labor, where I spend *th^ whole day in getting my living ; and I keep me from all falsehood, for I hate nothing so much as I do deceitfulness ; wherefore, when I make to any man a promise, I keep it and perform it truly. And thus I spend my time poorly with my wife and children, whom I teach and instruct, as far as my wit will serve me, to fear and love God. And thi^ is the sum of my simple life." -^ Duty is closely allied to truthfulness of 234 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. character ; and the dutiful man is, above all things, truthful in his words as in his actions. He says and he does the right thing in the right way, and at the right time. There is probably no saying of Chester- field that commends itself more strongly to the approval of manly-minded men, than that it is truth that makes the success of the man. Clarendon, speaking of one of the noblest and purest men of his age, says of Falkland, that he " was so severe an adorer of truth, that he could as easily have given Jiimself leave to steal as to dissemble." Always Fulfilled His Promise. It was one of the finest things that Mrs. Hutchinson could say of her husband, that Jie was a thoroughly truthful and reliable man : " He never professed the thing he intended not, nor promised what he believed out of his power, nor failed in the perform- ance of anything that was in his power to fulfill." Wellington was a severe admirer of truth. An illustration may be given. When afflicted by deafness, he consulted a cele- brated aurist, who, after trying all remedies in vain, determined, as a last resource, to inject into the ear a strong solution of caustic. It caused the most intense pain, but the patient bore it with his usual equanimity. The. family physician accidentally calling one day, found the duke with flushed cheeks .and blood-shot eyes, and when he rose he staggered about like a drunken man. The doctor asked to be permitted to look at his ear, and then he found that a furious inflammation was going on, which, if not immediately checked, must shortly reach the brain and kill him. Vigorous remedies were at once applied, and the inflammation was checked. But the hearing of that car was completely destroyed. When the aurist heard of the danger his patient had run, through the violence of the remedy he had employed, he hastened to the Apsley House to express his grief and mor- tification ; but the duke merely said : " Do not say a word more about it — you did all for the best." The aurist said it would be his ruin when it became known that he had been the cause of so much suffering and danger to the duke. " But nobody need know anything about it: keep your own counsel, and, depend upon it, I won't say a word to anyone." " Then you will allow me to attend you as usual, which will show the public that you have not withdrawn your confidence from me?" "No," replied the duke, kindly but firmly ; " I can't do that, for that would be a lie." He would not act a falsehood any more than he would speak one. Blucher at Waterloo, Another illustration of duty and truthful- ness, as exhibited in the fulfillment of a promise, may be added from the life of Blucher. When he was hastening with 1 is army over bad roads to the help of Wellmg- ton, on the i8th of June, 1815, he encour- aged his troops by words and gestures. " Forward, children — forward!" "It is im- possible; it can't be done," was the answer. Again and again he urged them. "Chil- dren, we must get on; you may say it can't be done, but it must be done! I have prom- ised my brother Wellington — promised, do you hear? You wouldn't have me break my word!" And it was done. Truth is the very bond of society, without which it must cease to exist, and dissolve into anarchy and chaos. A household can- not be governed by lying ; nor can a nation. Sir Thomas Browne asked, " Do the devils lie?" "No," was his answer; "for then 236 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. even hell could not subsist." No considera- tions can justify the sacrifice of truth, which ought to be sovereign in all the relations of life. Of all mean vices, perhaps lying is the meanest. It is in some cases the offspring of perversity and vice, and in many others of sheer moral cowardice. Yet many persons think so lightly of it that they will order their servants to lie for them ; nor can they feel surprised if, after such ignoble instruction, they find their servants lying for themselves. Many Forms of Deception. •- Sir Harry Wotton's description of an ^ ambassador as "an honest man sent to lie abroad for the benefit of his country," though meant as a satire, brought him into disfavor '^ith' James I. when it became published ; for an Eidversary quoted it as a principle of the king's religion. • That it was not Wotton's real view of the duty of an honest man, is obvious from the lines, in which he eulogizes the man : "Whose armor is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill." But lying assumes many forms — such as diplomacy, expediency, and moral reserva- tion ; and, under one guise or another, it is found more or less pervading all classes of society. Sometimes it assumes the form of equiyocation or moral dodging — twisting and so stating the things said as to convey a false impression — a kind of lying which a French- mar^* once described as "walking round about the truth." Nobody likes deception. The moral sense of every community is shocked by it. In Salem, Mass., it was supposed that there were certain persons who, by the practice of the black art, or by being in league with the devil, had power to bewitch and deceive others. Those who were suspected were arrested, tried, and made to suffer for their supposed crime, the guilt of which may, in great measure, be laid on the shoulders of Cotton Mather, author of " Memorable Provi- dences Relating to Witchcraft and Posses- sions, and Wonders of the Invisible World." Nineteen persons were executed, among the six men one clergyman and Giles Corey, a man over eighty, who, refusing to plead, was pressed to death. All died protesting their innocence, and even those who had been terrified into con- fession withdrew it, although their honesty cost them their lives. Nor were the victims here at least abandoned by their friends. In all the trials of this kind there is nothing so pathetic, says Mr. Lowell, as the picture of Jonathan Cary holding up the weary arms of his wife during her trial, and wiping away the sweat from her brow and the tears from her face. All Discharged from Jail. A reaction speedily set in, and, though in January, 1693, three more were condemned, no more executions took place, and a few months after the governor discharged all the suspects from jail, as many as one hundred and fifty in number. One Samuel Parris, a clergyman, who had been one of the main instigators of the prosecutions, confessed his error, but was dismissed by his flock in 1696, while even Cotton Mather acknowl- edged that there had been " a going too far in that affair." There are even men of narrow minds and dishonest natures, who pride themselves upon their cleverness in equivocation, in their serpent-wise shirking of the truth and get- ing out of moral back-doors, in order to hide their real opinions and evade the con- sequences of holding and openly professing TRUTHFULNESS. 237 them. Institutions or systems based upon any such expedients must necessarily prove false and hollow. "Though a lie be ever so well dressed," says George Herbert, "it is ever overcome." Downright lying, though bolder and more vicious, is even less con- temptible than such kind of shuffling and equivocation. Untruthfulness exhibits itself in many other forms : in reticency on the one hand, or exaggeration on the other; in disguise or concealment; in pretended concurrence in others' opinions; in assuming an attitude of conformity which is deceptive ; in making promises, or allowing them to be implied, which are never intended to be performed; or even in refraining from speaking the truth when to do so is a duty. The Man with a Double Face. There are also those who are all things to all men, who say one thing and do another, like Bunyan's Mr. Facing-both-ways ; only deceiving themselves when they think they are deceiving others — and who, being es- sentially insincere, fail to evoke confidence, and invariably in the end turn out failures, if not impostors. Others are untruthful in their pretentious- ness, and in assuming merits which they do not really possess. The truthful man is, on the contrary, modest, and makes no parade of himself and his deeds. When Pitt was in his last illness, the news reached England of the great deeds of Wellington in India. "The more I hear of his exploits," said Pitt, "the more I admire the modesty with which he receives the praises he merits for them. He is the only man I ever knew that was not vain of what he had done, and yet had so much reason to be so." So it is said of Faraday by Professor Tyndall, that "pretense of all kinds, whether in life or in philosophy, was hateful to him." Dr. Marshall Hall was a man of like spirit — courageously truthful, dutiful, and manly. One of his most intimate friends has said of him that, wherever he met with untruthful- ness or sinister motive, he would expose it, saying, "I neither will, nor can, give my consent to a he." The question, " right or wrong," once decided in his own mind, the right was followed, no matter what the sacri- fice or the difficulty — neither expediency nor inclination weighing one jot in the balance. Believed what was Told Him. There was no virtue that Dr. Arnold labored more sedulously to instill into young men than the virtue of truthfulness, as being the manliest of virtues, as, indeed, the very basis of all true manliness. He designated truthfulness as " moral transparency," and he valued it more highly than any other quality. When lying was detected, he treated it as a great moral offence ; but when a pupil made an assertion, he accepted it with confidence. "If you say so. that is quite enough; of course, I beheve your word." By thus trust- ing and believing them, he educated the young in truthfulness; the boys at length coming to say to one another: " It's a shame to tell Arnold a lie — he always believes one.'" There is no precept of the moral law that is more frequently and shamefully violated than that which forbids lying, and yet there is nothing about which people generally are so sensitive as a doubt of their veracity. The term liar is one of the most oppro- brious epithets which may be applied to a person, and its use has often been the cause of much mischief This expression is very frequently not only much misunderstood, but badly misused. And just here, it is impor- tant to remember that words are representa- tives of ideas, and if we use the wrong words 238 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. to express our thoughts, we are liable to be misapprehended, and thus do ourselves and others injury. The following anecdote will illustrate the wrong use of terms. The celebrated John Wesley was on one occasion at table with some friends, when the lady of the house asked him to take another cup of tea. He declined then, but afterward, his appetite im- proving probably, he said he would be pleased to take another cup ; when she, with much surprise, replied that "she did not know be- fore that a minister would tell a lie." He answered that " he did not wish to tell a lie, but he thought that a minister might change his mind." Her difficulty arose from not knowing what was meant by a lie, and, there- fore, she was not only led into an act of gross impoliteness, bur also of great injustice to ?n excellent man. An Important Distinction. Few persons make a distinction between a lie and an untruth. That there is a most important difference may easily be perceived. An untruth may be defined as "an assertion that is contrary to the fact," while a lie is the " assertion of an untruth with an intention to deceive." A lie is always an untruth, but an untruth is not always a lie. A man, from ignorance or misunderstanding, may assert what is untrue and not violate the moral law ; but if what he says is contrary to the truth, and he knows it, he is guilty of lying. If my neighbor, for instance, shall say that America was discovered in 1620, he has made a misstatement, for such is not the truth, and it is plain that he has confounded the discovery of America with the landing of the Pilgrims. This he might have done without any intention to deceive : if, there- fore, I say to him, "you have stated the fact incorrectly," or " what you have stated is not true," do I charge him with lying ? Cer- tainly not. But if I tell him he lies, I mean' that the statement he made was false, and that he knew it. It is plain that in making so grave a charge as that a person lies, we mu.st have a clear and unquestionable proof, not only of the untruth, but also of the design to deceive. Ashamed to get Found Out. Nothing is easier with vulgar people tha» to use hard names ; first, because they are irritating, and such persons have no regard for the feelings of their neighbors ; and, secondly, because they have really little regard for truth. A truly honorable man is very sensitive in all matters which appear to- cast discredit upon his integrity or veracity, and, for this reason, the dishonorable man- affects a sensitiveness he really does not feel. The latter may lie, and cheat, and steal, and his distress arises, not from doing these dis- honorable acts, but in being discovered and told of it. itory is told of a man who had a quar- rel with a mathematician, and, after consider- able abuse, concluded by calling him a liar. Preserving his temper, the latter calmly replied, " You have called me a liar, which is a very grave charge against one who claims to be a gentleman. Now, if you can prove it, it must be true, and I shall be ashamed of myself; but if you cannot prove it, it is you who should be ashamed, because you state what is not true for purposes of mischief. It is you, then, who are the liar." As a lie is any intentional violation of the truth, it is plain that to make a lie it is not necessary to use spoken language ; it may be uttered in words, or signs, or gestures of the head, or motions of the body. A pupil may cough a He to deceive his teacher in school — in short, any means taken to create a false TRUTHFULNESS. 239 impression is a lie. The ways of doing this are too many to be named here. It is no less a lie when told by the old to the young, than by the young to the old ; by the parent to the child, than by the child to the parent. When the mother says to her little child, "The bears will catch you if you go into the street," she lies. She knows there are no bears there. Many children are taught to lie in this manner. A lie may be told by uttering only a part of the truth, and keeping back some facts which are necessary to a complete knowledge of the whole. Again, it may consist in an exaggeration or overstatement of facts. These are the most common forms of deception, and are as base as statements in which there is not a particle of truth. Nor does it matter whether the subject be import- ant or unimportant; a lie told as a joke is no less a lie because it is a joke, and a joking liar cannot be a gentleman. There can be no such thing as an innocent lie, or a harm- less Har. Difficult to Quote Exact Words. It is not unusual to hear persons attempt, not only to give the ideas expressed by another, but to state them in the precise language in which they were uttered. While it is very desirable to quote the very words that fall from another's lips, it is also very difficult, and very few persons have the natural ability or the cultivation to do it with entire accuracy. To illustrate to his school the necessity of absolute precision in the statement of words, and the difficulty of acquiring it, a teacher selected from the high school six of his most capable boys, whose average age was, per- haps, seventeen years. He explained the experiment he was about to make, and de- sired them to give it their close attention, in order, if possible, to repeat the words he was about to give them. The plan was to show Master A a short sentence written on a piece of paper, which he was requested to memo- rize and whisper to Master B, who, in turn, was to communicate it to Master C, and so on, till the last of the six should receive it,, and write it upon the blackboard. A Ludicrous Blunder. The boys were anxious to prove that they could tell a straight story when they applied their minds to it, especially, since a failure on this trial would show them to be inaccu- rate, and consequently unreliable ^n all ordinary statements, where no unusual efforts' were made to report correctly. The follow- ing sentence was prepared for the trial : "Maternal affection is an instinct which most- animals possess in common with man." After each boy had communicated the sen- tence to his neighbor, the last one wrote the- following, as his version : " Maternal affec- tion is an instinct which all animals possess except man." A comparison of these two sentences proves that it is a difficult feat of memory to repeat, even under favorable circumstances, any words uttered by another. Since these boys, selected for their smartness, accus- tomed to give attention as pupils, anxious tO' show their ability to hear exactly and repeat accurately, failed to make a true report ol thirteen words, how much more liable must ordinary persons be, under circumstances- less favorable, to report incorrectly the pre- cise words in a given conversation. A change of two or three words in the above experimental sentence makes the last boy state the very reverse of the sentiment expressed by the first one. How absurd it is to suppose that persons generally can 240 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. reproduce the exact language of others, and how exceedingly cautious we should be in giving or receiving statements claiming to be so accurate. The following little poem will illustrate the inability of some persons to report words correctly, as spoken of in the preceding paragraph : "Said Gossip One to Gossip Two, While shopping in the town, ' One Mrs. Pry to me remarked. Smith bought his goods of Brown.' "Says Gossip Two to Gossip Three, Who cast her eyelids down, 'I've heard it said to-day, my friend, Smith got his goods from Brown.' "Says Gossip Three to Gossip Four, With something of a frown, 'I've heard strange news — what do you think? Smith took his goods from Brown. ' " Says Gossip Four to Gossip Five, Who blazed it round the town, 'I've heard to-day such shocking news — Smith stole his goods from Brown.' " Thus the innocent remark grew and changed. The same principle of evidence holds good with reference to things done as in words spoken. If we are likely to be inac- curate in the report of language, so we may fail to be correct in narrating what we see. If, by inattention, we hear erroneously, by the same neglect we may see imperfectly. Several persons may witness an exciting occurrence, and, while they agree as to the general facts, may differ very much in their statement of the separate incidents. One may see what entirely escaped the notice of another who had an equal opportunity for observation. Now, it is evident that, in giving testimony, they may disagree in many particulars, and yet each may state exactly the impressions made on his mind and be entirely truthful. If they differ, their disagreement is not neces- sarily an evidence of a want of veracity, but only a confirmation of the truth that two persons are rarely impressed by what they see in precisely the same way. A promise may be defined as "an agree- ment to do, or not to do, a certain thing." When such an engagement is made, the party or parties are in honor bound to fulfill it in its letter and spirit. As no one can look into the future to determine what may happen, the greatest care should be taken not to promise anything that he may not reason- ably expect to perform. The Intention to Deceive. If a boy promises his teacher, for instance, to prepare a given lesson by to-morrow, and willfully neglects the duty, he lies ; for the promise was made with an intention to deceive. If the promise was made in good faith and forgotten, he did not tell the truth, nor did he tell a lie, but his neglect to perform the work was a wrong to himself and his teacher, the repetition of which would result in a habit injurious to his character and reputation. If the promise was made with the intention of performing it, and in returning home he had fallen and broken his leg, so that it was impossible for him either to study or to return to school, he should not be held responsible, as he is not to blame for the non-performance of his agreement. From these illustrations it will be per- ceived that we have no right to promise what we are unable or unwilling to perform ; but if we make any engagement with the intention of keeping our word, and are pre- vented by circumstances we did not foresee, and could not control, we do no wrong. Every promise should be understood as depending upon providential circumstances. There are some promises which are made TRUTHFULNESS. 241 in good faith that ought never to be fulfilled. A boy agreed with his classmates to go to a neighboring orchard to steal apples. When the appointed time came, he determined not to go, for his conscience had whispered, "Thou shalt not steal," and he concluded to obey it. The boys jeered him for a coward, and claimed that as an honorable boy he should stick to his promise. Ke reasoned in this way : " Before I made this agreement, I was under obligations to God and man not to steal. I had no right to promise to do wrong. My first duty was to obey God, and while it was wrong to make the promise, it would be a greater wrong to keep it, therefore I shall not go." If this reasoning be correct, it is wrong to promise to do wrong, and therefore such a promise is not morally binding. How Much for a Lie? If we are under no moral obligation to fulfill a promise made to do a wrong, there can be no dishonor in refusing its perform- ance. Dishonor belongs to those who persist in doing wrong after thej^ have dis- covered the right. "Would you tell a lie for three cents?" asked a teacher of one of her boys. " No, ma'am," answered Dick, very promptly. "For ten cents?" "No, ma'am." "For a dollar?" "No, ma'am." "For a hun- dred dollars?" "No, ma'am." "For a thousand dollars?" Here Dick was staggered. A thousand dollars looked hke such a very big sum. Oh ! what lots of things he could buy with a thousand dollars. While he was thinking about it, and trying to make up his mind whether it would pay to tell a lie for a thou- sand dollars, a boy behind him cried out : "No, ma'am." "Why not?" asked the teacher. 16 Now, mark this boy's answer, and do not forget it. "Because, ma'am," said he, '^ the lie sticks. When the thousand dollars are all gone, and the good things bought with them are all gone, too, the lie is there all the same." And when we tell a lie we never can tell where the injury that springs from it will stop. It is just like loosening a great rock at the top of a mountain and letting it go rolling and plunging down the side of the mountain. Nobody can tell how far it will go, nor how much injury it will do before it stops rolling. A Wild Beast let Loose. Telling a lie is like letting a wild beast ou/" of a cage. You can never tell how man^ people that animal will wound or kill before he is caught again. Telling a lie is like dropping sparks in powder. It is sure to make an explosion, and no one can tell beforehand how much harm that it will do. Truthfulness, integrity and goodness — qualities that hang not on any man's breath — form the essence of manly character, or, as one of our old writers has it, " that inbred loyalty unto virtue which can serve her without a livery." He who possesses these qualities, united with strength of purpose, carries with him a power which is irresistible. He is strong to do good, strong to resist evil, and strong to bear up under difficulty and misfortune. When Stephen of Colonna fell into the hands of his base assailants, and they asked him in deri.sion, "Where is now your fortress?" "Here," was his bold reply, placing his hand upon his heart. It is in misfortune that the character of the upright man shines forth with the greatest luster; and when all else fails, he takes his stand upon his integrity and his courage. CHAPTER XIV. PERSEVERANCE. N old negro preacher is reported to have said to his congrega- tion : " Bredren, you must per- severe. Maybe you don't know what that is ; so I will tell you. To persevere is to take hold, hang on, and not let go." This is what all men have done who have carried out their purposes. Cyrus W. Field determined to connect the old world and the new by telegraph. People laughed at him, called him "visionary," a "fool," and a fit subject for a lunatic asylum. The sneers and jeers of staid men who pronounced him a fool and a fit candidate for a straight-jacket, did not drive him from the straight line of duty. With interminable industry and un- conquerable perseverance he pursued the object of his ambition. The stock of the Atlantic Telegraph Com- pany was hawked about the streets and became the sport of speculators. When his house went down in the commercial crisis, grave men attributed the failure to the vision- ary character of Mr. Field; but he had a heart that never failed — a capital stock of hope and courage that carried him safely through all this tumult of opposition. The reverses of fortune — the entreaties of friends —the opposition of enemies — the ridicule of conceited wiseacres — the untoward events of the great enterprise — the backing out of direc- tors — the resistance of the winds and the waves, did not dishearten him. He believed that an all-wise and over- ruling Providence would direct him; indeed. he remarked to the Rev. Dr. Adanas, of New York, that he believed God would prosper him in his effort, and earnestly entreated to be remembered at the altar of private and public worship. Is it possible to conceive a spectacle more sublime than that which is presented in the eventful history of this remarkable man? A mere boy he embarks in business and is prostrated by the mismanagement or mis- calculations of his seniors, but he falls only to rebound higher than before. A great thought troubles him — he wishes to embody it into a deed and unite the old world with the new; so he asks the Congress of the United States to assist him ; and after a vast deal of congressional gas had been consumed his request is begrudgingly granted. A Great Achievement. He crosses the ocean, forms a company, raises a fund, obtains the assistance of two nations, and with his cable on the war-ships he links the continents. Now where are the Wall street brokers who made his paper the sport of street speculations? Where is the little snob who refused to honor his drafts? Where are the human sharks who had opened their mouths and sharpened their teeth to devour him ? Where are the snarling critics who predicted his utter failure and held him personally responsible for every change in the weather and every flaw in the cable? They are nowhere, and Field is one of the most honored men of the age. He worked a iiiiracle, and the generations of men will 243 244 PERSEVERANCE. lienor his memory through all future time and rehearse his achievements. The old world and the new are now next- door neighbors. The lightning is a messen- ger, constantly crossing the sea on a bridge of wire, with personal and public intelligence. The civilized peoples are grouped within hail- ing signals by the genius and energy of this persevering and inspired Yankee. Xerxes attempted to chain the waves, and failed. Our "Cyrus," with a chain of Hghtning, made the ocean do his bidding, and carry his torch from sea to sea, and from shore to shore, without putting out the light. Pressed toward his Mark. Perseverance always wins. The writer of these lines was once a member of the Legis- lature of Connecticut. A short time before the session was to commence a young man called on him one evening and stated that he was a candidate for the position of clerk of the House and was trying to secure the votes of the members. He was a bright, quick, gentlemanly young man of good appearance and evidently of good breeding. He was told that another candidate, one who had already been assistant clerk, was sure to be appointed, that the matter was really settled and he had no chance whatever to secure the appointment. He replied, " What you say may be true ; I have heard it from others, still, I doubt it. ]3ut I'm not discouraged ; if I can't secure the appointment, I can at least have the pleasure of working for it." The reply was so manly and showed so much pluck and determination that I could not help wishing him success. He was not in the least dismayed at the sure prospect of defeat. He "had the pleasure of working" for his object, but was defeated. His spirit, energy, manliness^ capability, impressed all he met, and he held steadily to his aim. He was grandly resolute in his determination to finally succeed. And afterward he did suc- ceed and gained the prize he sought. He had to wait and work. He could do both, and because he could wait and work, and could press steadily toward his mark, he reached the goal of his ambition. Perseverance doesn't get thrown into a panic ; it is not subject to fainting fits. In its book of tactics there is no such word as retreat. "Forward" is on every page, but there is no "retreat." It burns the bridges it has crossed. It knows nothing about backward movements. It doesn't run at the sight of a foe. It halts only to get breath. It rests only to rise in greater strength. It may have to go slowly, but it goes. Mountains of difficulty may be against it, but it knows how to climb ; now it is on the other side. A man who cannot persevere is too weak, nerveless, limpsy, for this rough, go-ahead age. He is sure to be left. ■Working and Winning. Dreamers and idlers are all around us. They wish to do nothing and yet accom- plish wonders. They would go to sleep and wake up rich. They would thrust their hands in their pockets and become millionaires. They dream of chances, great schemes, lucky ventures, miraculous investments. They are failures, dismal failures. They eat dinners and wear clothes because someone else earns the dinners for them and pays for the clothes". There is an army of these idlers, these do-nothings who are always " waiting for something to turn up." They have yet to learn that work and perseverance, " taking hold and hanging on and not letting go," is the only way for going to sleep and waking up rich. THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. The greatest results in life are usually- attained by simple means, and the exercise of ordinary qualities. The common life of every day, with its cares, necessities and duties, affords ample opportunity for acquir- ing experience of the best kind ; and its most beaten paths provide the true worker with abundant scope for effort and room for self- improvement. The road of human welfare lies along the old highway of steadfast well- doing; and they who are the most persistent, and work in the truest spirit, will usually be the most successful. Fortune has often been blamed for her blindness ; but fortune is not so blind as men are. Those who look into practical life will find that fortune is usually on the side of the industrious, as the winds and waves are on the side of the best navigators. In the pur- suit of even the highest branches of human inquiry, the commoner qualities are found the most useful — such as common sense, at- tention, application and perseverance. Genius may not be necessary, though even genius of the highest sort does not disdain the use of these ordinary qualities. Light your own Fire. The very greatest men have been among the least believers in the power of genius, and as worldly-wise and persevering as suc- cessful men of the commoner sort. Some have even defined genius to be only common sense intensified. A distinguished teacher and president of a college spoke of it as the power of making efforts. John Foster held it to be the power of lighting one's own fire. Buffon said of genius, "It is patience." Newton's was unquestionably a mind of the very highest order, and yet, when asked by what means he had worked out his ex- traordinary discoveries, he modestly an- swered, "By always thinking unto them." At another time he thus expressed his method of study : " I keep the subject con- tinually before me, and wait till the first dawnings open slowly by little and little into a full and clear light." It was in Newton's case, as in every other, only by diligent application and perseverance that his great reputation was achieved. Even his recrea- tion consisted in change of study, laying down one subject to take up another. To Dr. Bently he said: "If I have done the public any service, it is due to nothing but industry and patient thought." No Genius without Labor. So Kepler, another great philosopher,, speaking of his studies and his progress, said : " I brooded with the whole energy of my mind upon the subject." The extraordinary results effected by dint of sheer industry and perseverance, have led many distinguished men to doubt whether the gift of genius be so exceptional an endow- ment as it is usually supposed to be. Thus Voltaire held that it is only a very slight line of separation that divides the man of genius from the man of ordinary mold. Beccaria v/as even of the opinion that all men might be poets and orators, and Reynolds that they might be painters and sculptors. Locke, Helvetius and Diderot believed that all men have an equal aptitude for genius, and that what some are able to effect under the laws which regulate the operations of the intellect, must also be within the reach of others who, under like circumstances, apply themselves to like pursuits. But while admitting to the fullest extent the wonderful achievements of labor^ and recognizing the fact that men of most distinguished genius have invariably been found the most indefatigable workers, it must, nevertheless, be sufficiently obvious 246 PERSEVERANCE. that, without the original endowment of heart and brain, no amount of labor, how- ever well applied, could have produced a Shakespeare, a Newton, a Beethoven, or a Michael An gelo. Dalton, the chemist, repudiated the notion of his being "a genius," attributing every- thing which he had accompHshed to simple industry and accumulation. John Hunter said of himself: "My mind is like a bee- hive ; but full as it is of buzz and apparent confusion, it is yet full of order and regular- ity, and food collected with incessant industry from the choicest stores of nature." Turning all things to Gold. We have, indeed, but to glance at the biographies of great men to find that the most distinguished inventors, artists, thinkers and workers of all kinds, owe their success, in a great measure, to their indefatigable industry and application. They were men who turned all things to gold — even time itself Disraeli the elder held that the secret of success consisted in being master of your subject, such mastery being attainable only through continuous application and study. Hence it happens that men who have most moved the world have not been so much men of genius, strictly so called, as men of intense mediocre abilities, and untir- ing perseverance ; not so often the gifted, of naturally bright and shining qualities, as those who have applied themselves diligently to their work, in whatsoever Hne that might lie. "Alas ! " said a widow, speaking of her brilliant but careless son, "he has not the gift of continuance." Wanting in persever- ance, such volatile natures are outstripped in the race of life by the diligent and even the dull. Says the Italian proverb : who goes slowly, goes long, and goes far. Hence, a great point to be aimed at is to get the working quality well trained. When that is done, the race will be found compara- tively easy. We must repeat and again repeat ; facility will come with labor. Not even the simplest art can be accomplished without it ; and what difficulties it is found capable of overcoming ! It was by early discipline and repetiton that Sir Robert Peel cultivated those remark- able, though still mediocre powers, which rendered him so illustrious an ornament of the British Senate. When a boy at Drayton Manor, his father was accustomed to set him up at table to practice speaking extempore ; and he early accustomed him to repeat as much of the Sunday's sermon as he could remember. Little progress was made at first, but by steady perseverance the habit of attention became powerful, and the sermon was at length repeated almost verbatim. Training the Memory. When afterward replying in succession to the arguments of his parliamentary oppo- nents — an art in which he was perhaps unrivaled — it was little surmised that the extraordinary power of accurate remembrance which he displayed on such occasions had been originally trained under the discipline of his father in the parish church of Drayton. It is indeed marvelous what continuous application will effect in the commonest of things. It may seem a simple affair to play upon a violin ; yet what a long and labor- ious practice it requires ! Giardini said to a youth who asked him how long it would take to learn it, " Twelve hours a day for twenty years together." Progress, however, of the best kind, is comparatively slow. Great results can not be achieved at once ; and we must be satis- fied to advance in life as we walk, step by step. De Maistre says that "To know how THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. to wait is the great secret of success." We must sow before we can reap, and often have to wait long, content meanwhile to look patiently forward in hope ; the fruit best worth waiting for often ripening the slowest. But "time and patience," says the Eastern proverb, " change the mulberry leaf to satin." The Chief Pleasure. To wait patiently, however, men must work cheerfully. Cheerfulness is an excel- lent working quality, imparting great elas- ticity to the character. As a bishop has said, "Temper is nine-tenths of Christian- ity;" so are cheerfulness and diligence nine- tenths of practical wisdom. They are the life and soul of success, as well as of happi- ness ; perhaps the very highest pleasure in life consisting in clear, brisk, conscious work- ing ; energy — confidence and every other good quality mainly depending upon it. Sydney Smith, when laboring in Yorkshire — though he did not feel himself to be in his proper element — went cheerfully to work in the iirm determination to do his best. " I am resolved," he said, "to like it, and recon- cile myself to it, which is more manly than to feign myself above it, and to send up com- plaints by the post of being thrown away, and being desolate, and such Hke trash." So Dr. Hook, when leaving Leeds for a new sphere of labor, said, "Wherever I may be, I shall, by God's blessing, do with my might what my hand findeth to do ; and if I do not find work, I shall make it." Laborers for the public good especially, have to work long and patiently, often uncheered by the prospect of immediate recompense or result. The seeds they sow sometimes lie hidden under the winter's snow, and before the spring comes the hus- bandman may have gone to his rest. It is not every public worker who, like Rowland 247 forth fruit in Hill, sees his great idea bring his lifetime. Adam Smith sowed the seeds of a great social amelioration in that dingy old Univer- sity of Glasgow where he so long labored, and laid the foundations of his " Wealth of Nations ; " but seventy years passed before his work bore substantial fruits, nor indeed are they all gathered in yet. Nothing can compensate for the loss of hope in a man : it entirely changes the char- acter. "How can I work — how can I be happy," said a great but miserable thinker, "when I have lost all hope ? " One of the most cheerful and courageous, because one of the most hopeful of workers, was Carey, the missionary. When in India it was no uncommon thing for him to weary out three pundits, who officiated as his clerks, in one day, he himself taking rest only in change of employment. Poor Young Men Helping Another. Carey, the son of a shoemaker, was sup- ported in his labors by Ward, the son of a carpenter, and Marsham, the son of a weaver. By their labor a magnificent college was erected at Serampore; sixteen flourishing stations were established; the Bible was translated into sixteen languages, and the seeds were sown of a beneficient moral revo- lution in British India. Carey was never ashamed of the humbleness of his origin. On one occasion, when at the Governor- General's table, he overheard an officer opposite him asking another, loud enough to be heard, whether Carey had not once been a shoemaker : " No, sir," exclaimed Carey, immediately; "only a cobbler." An eminently characteristic anecdote has been told of his perseverance as a boy. When climbing a tree one day, his foot slipped, and he fell to the ground, breaking his leg by the 248 PERSEVERANCE. fall. He was confined to his bed for weeks, but when he recovered and was able to walk without support, the very first thing he did was to go and climb that tree. Carey had need of this sort of dauntless courage for the great missionary work of his life, and nobly and resolutely he did it. It was a maxim of Dr. Young, the phil- osopher, that "Any man can do what any other man has done;" and it is unquestion- able that he himself never recoiled from any trials to which he determined to subject him- self. It is related of him, that the first time he mounted a horse the horseman who pre- ceded him leaped a high fence. Young wished to imitate him, but fell off his horse in the attempt. Without saying a word, he remounted, made a second effort, and was again unsuccessful, but this time he was not thrown further than onto the horse's neck, to which he clung. At the third trial he succeeded, and cleared the fence. A Treasure Lost, The story of Timour the Tartar learning a lesson of perseverance under adversity from the spider is well known. Not less interest- ing is the anecdote of Audubon, our Ameri- can ornithologist, as related by himself. "An accident," he says, "which happened to two hundred of my original drawings, nearly put a stop to my researches in ornithology. I shall relate it, merely to show how far enthu- siasm — for by no other name can I call my perseverance — may enable the preserver of nature to surmount the most disheartening difficulties. " I left the village of Henderson, in Ken- tucky, situated on the banks of the Ohio, where I resided for several years, to proceed to Philadelphia on business. I looked to my drawings before my departure, placed them carefully in a wooden box, and gave them in charge of a relative, with injunctions to see that no injury should happen to them. My absence was of several months ; and when I returned, after having enjoyed the pleasures of home for a few days, I inquired after my box, and what I was pleased to call my treasure. "The box was produced and opened; but, reader, feel for me — a pair of Norway rats had taken possession of the whole, and reared a young family among the gnawed bits of paper, which, but a month previous, repre- sented nearly a thousand inhabitants of the air ! The burning heat which instantly rushed through my brain was too great to be endured without affecting my whole nervous system. " I slept for several nights, and the days passed like days of oblivion — until the animal powers being recalled into action through the strength of my constitution, I took up my gun, my note-book and my pencils, and went forth to the woods as gayly as if nothing had happened. I felt pleased that I might now make better drawings than before ; and, ere a period not exceeding three years had elapsed, my portfoHo was again filled." The Work of Years Destroyed. The accidental destruction of Sir Isaac Newton's papers, by his little dog "Dia- mond" upsetting a lighted taper upon his desk, by which the elaborate calculations of many years were in a moment destroyed, is a well-known anecdote, and need not be repeated : it is said that the loss caused the philosopher such profound grief that it seri- ously injured his health and impaired his understanding, but did not turn him from his purpose. An accident of a somewhat similar kind happened to the manuscript of Mr. Carlyle's first volume of his "French Revolution." He had lent the manuscript to a literary THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 249 neighbor to peruse. By some mischance it had been left lying on the parlor floor and become forgotten. Weeks ran on, and the historian sent for his work, the printers being loud for "copy." Inquiries were made, and it was faund that the maid of all work, find- ing what she conceived to be a bundle of waste-paper on the floor, had used it to light the kitchen and parlor fires with ! Such was the answer returned to Mr. Carlyle, and his feelings may be imagined. An Instance of Perseverance. There was, however, no help for him but to set resolutely to work to re-write the book ; and he turned to and did it. He had no draft, and was compelled to rake up from his memory facts, ideas, and expressions which had been long since dismissed. The composition of the book in the first instance had been a work of pleasure ; the re-writing of it a second time was one of pain and anguish almost beyond belief. That he per- severed and finished the volume under such circumstances affords an instance of determi- nation of purpose which has seldom been surpassed. The lives of eminent inventors are emi- nently illustrative of the same quality of perseverance. George Stephenson, when addressing young men, was accustomed to sum up his best advice to them in the words, "Do as I have done — persevere." He had worked at the improvement of his locomo- tive for some fifteen years before achieving his decisive victory ; and Watt was engaged for some thirty years upon the condensing- engine before he brought it to perfection. But there are equally striking illustrations of perseverance to be found in every other branch of science, art and industry. Perhaps one of the most interesting is that connected with the disentombment of the Nineveh Marbles, and the discovery of the long-lost cuneiform or arrow-headed character in which the inscriptions on them are written — a kind of writing which had been lost to the world! since the period of the Macedonian conquest of Persia. An intelligent cadet of the East India Company, stationed at Kermanshah, in Persia,, had observed the curious cuneiform inscrip- tions on the old monuments in the neighbor- hood — so old that all historical traces of them had been lost — and among the inscrip- tions which he copied was that on the celebrated rock of Behistun — a perpendicular rock rising abruptly some 1,700 feet from the plain, the lower part bearing inscriptions for the space of about 300 feet in three lan- guages — Persian, Scythian and Assyrian. A Great Discovery. Comparison of the known with the un- known, of the language which survived with the language that had been lost, enabled this cadet to acquire some knowledge of the cuneiform character, and even to form an alphabet. Mr. (afterward Sir Henry) Rawl- inson sent his tracings home for examination. No professors in colleges as yet knew any- thing of the cuneiform character ; but there was a clerk of the East India House — a modest unknown man of the name of Norris — who had made this little-understood subject his study, to whom the tracings were sub- mitted ; and so accurate was his knowledge, that, though he had never seen the Behistun rock, he pronounced that the cadet had not copied the puzzling inscription with proper exactness. Rawlinson, who was still in the neighbor- hood of the rock, compared his copy with the original, and found that Norris was right; and by further comparison and careful study the knowledge of the cuneiform writing was L 250 PERSEVERANCE. thus greatly advanced, and the world was made to v/onder. But to make the learning of these two self-taught men of avail, a third laborer was necessary in order to supply them with material for the exercise of their skill. Such a laborer presented himself in the person of Austen Layard, originally a clerk in the office of a London solicitor. One would scarcely have expected to find in these three men, a cadet, an India-House clerk, and a lawyer's clerk, the discoverers of a forgotten language, and of the buried history of Babylon ; yet it was so. Digging up a Buried City. Layard was a youth of only twenty-two, traveling in the East, when he was possessed with a desire to penetrate the regions beyond the Euphrates. Accompanied by a single companion, trusting to his arms for protec- tion, and, what was better, to his cheerfulness, politeness, and chivalrous bearing, he passed safely amid tribes at deadly war with each other ; and, after the lapse of many years, with comparatively slender means at his command, but aided by application and per- severance, resolute will and purpose, and almost sublime patience — borne up through- out by his passionate enthusiasm for discovery and research — he succeeded in laying bare and digging up an amount of historical treas- ures, the like of which has probably never before been collected by the industry of any one man. Not less than two miles of bas-reliefs were thus brought to light by Mr. Layard. The selection of these valuable antiquities, now placed in the British Museum, was found so curiously corroborative of the scriptural records of events which occurred some three thousand years ago, that they burst upon the world almost like a new revelation. And the story of the disentombment of these re- markable works, as told by Mr. Layard himself in his "Monuments of Nineveh," will always be regarded as one of the most charming and unaffected records which we possess of individual enterprise, industry and energy. The career of Buffon, the celebrated writer on natural history, presents another remark- able illustration of the power of patient indus- try, as well as of his own saying, that " Genius is patience." Notwithstanding the great re- sults achieved by him in natural history, Buffon, when a youth, was regarded as of mediocre talents. His mind was slow in forming itself, and slow in reproducing what it had acquired. He was also constitution- ally indolent ; and being born to good estate, it might be supposed that he would indulge his liking for ease and luxury. Instead of which, he early formed the resolution of denying himself pleasure, and devoting him- self to study and self-culture. Morning Laziness. Regarding time as a treasure that was limited, and finding that he was losing many hours by lying abed in the mornings, he determined to break himself of the habit He struggled hard against it for some time^ but failed in being able to rise at the hour he had fixed. He then called his servant, Joseph, to his help, and promised him the reward of a crown every time that he suc- ceeded in getting him up before six. At first, when called, Buffon declined to rise — pleaded that he was ill, or pretended anger at being disturbed; and, on finally getting up, Joseph found that he had earned nothing but reproaches for having permitted his mas- ter to lie abed contrary to his express orders. At length the valet deterrnined to earn his crown ; and again and again he forced Buffon THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 251 to rise, notwithstanding his entreaties, expos- tulations and threats of immediate discharge from his service. One morning Buffon was unusually obstinate, and Joseph found it necessary to resort to the extreme measure of dashing a basin of ice-cold water under the bedclothes, the effect of which was in- stantaneous. By the persistent use of such means, Buffon at length conquered his habit, and he was accustomed to say that he owed to Joseph three or four volumes of his Natu- ral History. Make Your Mark. In the quarries should you toil, Make }-our mark ; Do }'ou delve upon the soil. Make your mark ; In whatever path you go. In whatever place 3-ou stand. Moving swift or moving slow. With a firm and honest hand. Make your mark. Should opponents hedge your way, Make your mark ; Work by night or work by day, Make your mark ; Struggle manfully and well, Let no obstacle oppose ; None, right-shielded, ever fell, By the weapons of his foes ; Make your mark. What though born a peasant's son, Make your mark ; Good by poor men can be done, Make your mark ; Peasants' garbs may warm the cold, Peasants' words may calm a fear ; Better far than hoarding gold. Is the drying of a tear ; Make your mark. Life is fleeting as a shade, ' Make your mark ; Marks of some kind must be made, Make your mark ; Make it while the arm is strong. In the golden hours of youth ; Never, never make it wrong Make it with the stamp of truth ; Make your mark. David Barker. If a man loses lus property at thirty or forty years of age, it is only a sharp disci- pline generally, by which later he comes to large success. It is all folly for a man or woman to sit down in mid-life discouraged. The marshals of Napoleon came to their commander and said; "We have lost the battle and we are being cut to pieces." Napoleon took his watch from his pocket, and said : " It is only two o'clock in the afternoon. You have lost the battle, but we have time to win another. Charge upon the foe 1 " Let our readers Avho have been unsuccessful thus far in the battle of life not give up in despair. With energy and God's blessing they may yet win a glorious victory. Discouragements of Columbus. Let those who are disposed to faint under difficulties, in the prosecution of any great and worthy undertaking, remember that eighteen years elapsed after the time that Columbus conceived his enterprise before he was enabled to carry it into effect ; that the greater part of that time was passed in almost hopeless solicitation, amid poverty, neglect, and taunting ridicule ; that the prime of his life had wasted away in the struggle, and that when his perseverance was finally crowned with success, he was about in his fifty-sixth year. His example should encour- age the enterprising never to despair. Not one man in a thousand who puts on his rubber overshoes and waterproof knows the story of the remarkable man who spent time, money and the most persevering labor to perfect his inventions. But Charles Good- year was a man who, having undertaken a thing, could not give it up. He struggled on for five years — in debt, with a family, and exposed to the derision or reproaches of his friends. * Several times he was in New Haven jail for debt. 252 PERSEVERANCE. He sold his effects, he pawned his trinkets, he borrowed from his acquaintances, he re- duced himself and his young family to the severest straits. When he could no longer buy wood to melt the rubber with, his chil- dren used to go out into the fields and pick up sticks for the purpose. Always suppos- ing himself to be on the point of succeeding, he thought the quickest way to get his family out of their misery was to stickto India rubber. He did what he aimed to do, but it cost him years of poverty and toil. This one man's perseverance produced one of the most important articles of trade. Never Give up the Ship. During the battle between the fleets of William HI. and Louis XIV., in 1692, Carter, rear-admiral of the Blue, broke the French line at the onset and was mortally wounded, and dying, exclaimed, " Fight the ship as long as she can swim ! " The victory was complete, the French flying in every direction. The French were attempting an invasion of England. Sertorious' army being defeated by the barbarians, he endeavored to rouse them up out of their despondence. For which pur- pose, a kw days after, he assembled all his forces, and produced two horses before them ; the one old and feeble, the other large and strong, and remarkable beside for a fine flowing tail. By the poor weak horse stood a robust, able-bodied man, and by the strong horse stood a little man of a very contemptible appearance. Upon a signal given, the strong man began to pull and drag about the weak horse by the tail, as if he would pull it off; and the little man to pluck off the hairs of the great horse's tail, one by one. The former tugged and toiled a long time to the great diversion of the spectators, and at last was forced to give up the point ; the latter, without any difficulty, soon stripped the great horse's tail of all its hair. Then Sertorius rose up and said : " You see, my friends and fellow-soldiers, how much- greater are the effects of perseverance than those of force, and that there are many things invincible in their collective capacity and in a state of union which may gradually be overcome, when they are once separated. In short, perseverance is irresistible. By this means time attacks and destroys the strongest things upon earth. Time, I say, who is the best friend and ally to those that have the discernment to use it properly, and watch the opportunities it presents, and the worst enemy to those who will be rushing into action when It does not call them." Fighting for a Tombstone. Says Gibbon: "The enthusiasm of the first crusade is a natural and simple event, while hope was fresh, danger untried, and enterprise congenial to the spirit of the times. But the obstinate perseverance of Europe may indeed excite our pity and admiration; that no instruction should have been drawn from constant and adverse- experience; that the same confidence should have repeatedly grown from the same fail- ures; that six succeeding generations should have rushed headlong down the precipice that was open before them ; and that men of every condition should have staked their public and private fortunes on the desperate adventure of possessing or recovering a tombstone two thousand miles from their country." Benjamin Disraeli was a striking example of patience and pluck. There was some curiosity respecting his dedut as an orator. The gentlemen of the House of Commons- expected that Disraeli would make a fooL THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 253 k of himself; and he did not disappoint them. His first effort was a ludicrous failure — his maiden speech being received with " loud bursts of laughter." The newspapers said of him that he went up like a rocket and came down like a stick. Writhing under the shouts of laughter which had drowned so much of his studied eloquence, he exclaimed, in almost a savage voice, "I have begun several times many things, and have often succeeded at last. I shall sit down now, but the time will come when you will hear me." He afterward became Prime Minister of England. The First Steamboat. The same lesson is illustrated in the life of John Fitch. He, too, perseivered. We cannot begin to relate the obstacles he en- countered. A considerable volume would scarcely afford the requisite space. Poor, ragged and forlorn, jeered at, pitied as a madman, discouraged by the great, refused by the rich, he and his few friends kept on, until, in 1790, they had a steamboat running on the Delaware, which was the first steam- boat ever constructed that answered the purpose of one. It ran, with the tide, eight miles an hour, and six miles against it. A few years ago one of the most famous and popular of our American preachers was Dr. Nathan Bangs; when he began his career he became despondent because of the numerous difficulties he experienced and the absence of desired success, and resolved to abandon the ministry. A significant dream relieved him. He thought he was working with a pickaxe on the top of a basaltic rock. His muscular arm brought down stroke after stroke for hours, but the rock was hardly indented. He said to himself at last, " It is useless ; I will pick no more." Suddenly a stranger of dignified mien stood by his side and spoke to him. "You will pick no more?" "No more." "Were you not set to this task?" "Yes." "And why abandon it?" "My work is vain; I make no impression on the rock." Solemnly the stranger replied, "What is that to you ? Your duty is to pick, whether the rock yields or not. Your work is in your own hands; the result is not. Work on ! " He resumed his task. The first blow was given with almost superhuman force, and the rock flew into a thousand pieces. He awoke, pursued his way back with fresh zeal and energy, and a great revival followed. From that day he never had even a "temp- tation" to give up his commission. The Famous Grecian Orator. No ancient example of perseverance is more interesting than that of the great Gre- cian orator, Demosthenes. The first essay of his eloquence was against his guardians, whom he obliged to refund a part of his for- tune. Encouraged by this success, he ven- tured to speak before the people, but with very ill fortune. He had a weak voice, an impediment in his speech, and a very short breath; notwithstanding which, his periods were so long that he was often obliged to stop in the midst of them to take breath. This occasioned his being hissed by the whole audience, from whence he retired dis- couraged, and determined to renounce forever a function of which he believed himself incapa- ble. One of his auditors, who, through all these imperfections, had observed an excel- lent fund of genius in him, and a kind of eloquence which came very near that of Pericles, gave him new spirit from the grate- ful idea of so glorious a resemblance, and the good advice which he added to it. He ventured, therefore, to appear a second 254 PERSEVERANCE. time before the people, and was no better received than before. As he withdrew, hanging down his head, and in the utmost confusion, Satyrus, one of the most excellent actors of those times, who was his friend gave him encouragement and advice. He stammered to such a degree that he could not pronounce some letters, among others that with which the name of the art he studied begins ; and he was so short-breathed that he could not utter a whole period with- out stopping. He at length overcame these obstacles by putting small pebbles into his mouth, and pronouncing several verses in that manner without interruption ; and that even when walking and going up steep and difficult places ; so that, at last, no letter made him hesitate, and his breath held out through the longest periods. He went also to the sea- side, and while the waves were in the most violent agitation he pronounced harangues, to accustom himself, by the confused noise of the waters, to the roar of the people and the tumultuous cries of public assemblies. Demosthenes took no less care of his actions than of his voice. He had a large looking-glass in his house, which served to teach him gesture, and at which he used to declaim before he .spoke in public. To cor- rect a fault which he had contracted by an ill habit, of continually shrugging his shoul- ders, he practised standing upright in a kind of very narrow pulpit or rostrum, over which hung a halbert, in such a manner that, if in the heat of action that motion escaped him, the point of the weapon might serve at the same time to admonish and correct him. The fact is, much more might be accom- plished by the average man if he had General Grant's invincible determination to "fight it out on this line if it takes all summer." WANTED, A BOY.' ■ ' Wanted, a boy ! ' Well, how glad I am To know that I was the first to see The daily paper — so early, too — Few boys are up — 'tis lucky for me." You hurry away through quiet streets. Breathlessly reaching the office door Where a boy was wanted, and lo ! you find It thronged and besieged by at least a score. ' Wanted, a boy ! " So the place was gone ; You did not get it? Well, never mind. The world is large, and a vacant place Is somewhere in it for you to find ; Perhaps by long and devious ways, With perils to face, and battles to win. Obstacles great to be overcome. Before you reach it, and enter in. Philosophy surely wanted a boy. While Franklin worked at a printer's case; Mechanics, when, low in the darkened mine. By an engine, Stephenson found his place ; Nature, while Linnaeus, crushed and tried As a cobbler, toiled out his sunless youtfa ; Freedom, ere Washington reached her arms From childhood, up by the way of truth. Wanted, a boy ! " 'tis written above Coveted places of highest renown ; But the ladder of labor must ever be trod By boyish feet, ere the sign comes down. There are humble names half hidden now On the school day-roll, 'mong many a score. That yet will shine as the lights of fame, Till boys are wanted on earth no more. The forum is echoing burning words Of orators destined to pass awa}- ; You will be wanted instead of them soon, Men of the future are boys to-day. The watchmen standing on Zion's walls. Faithfully doing the Master's will. Are falling asleep as the years go by ; Wanted, a boy each place to fill. Mary B. REESB. CHAPTER XV. ECONOMY. O many persons have heard of ^^ "Poor Richard's Almanac," pub- lished by Ben Franklin, and so few have ever had an oppor- tunity of reading it, that we take pleasure in inserting it in this chapter. It teaches the very important lesson of economy and thrift, and is full of quaint sayings and maxims of great value. Franklin entitles it, " The Way to Wealth, as Clearly Shown in the Preface of an old Pennsylvania Almanac." The sound sense and practical wisdom of" Poor Richard" are worthy of careful study and diligent practice. The Almanac purported to be the work of "Richard Saunders." Courteous Reader: I have heard that nothing gives an author so great pleasure as to find his works respectfully quoted by others. Judge, then, how much I must have been gratified by an incident I am going to relate to you. I stopped my horse, lately, where a great number of people were col- lected, at an auction of merchant's goods. The hour of the sale not being come, they were conversing on the badness of the times ; and one of the company called to a plain, clean old man, with white locks, " Pray, Father Abraham, what think you of the times? Will not these heavy taxes quite ruin the country? How shall we ever be able to pay them ? What would you advise us to do ? " Father Abraham stood up, and replied, " If you would have my advice, I will give i», to you in short ; ' for a word to the wise i* enough,' as poor Richard says." They joined in desiring him to speak his mind ; and, gathering round him, he pro- ceeded as follows : " Friends," says he, "the taxes are, indeed, very heavy, and, if those laid on by the government were the only ones we had to pay, we might more easily discharge them ; but we have many others, and much more grievous to some of us. We are taxed twice as much by our idleness, three times as much by our pride, and four times as much by our folly ; and from these taxes the commissioners cannot ease or deliver us, by allowing an abatement. However, let us hearken to good advice, and something may be done for us, ' God helps them that help themselves,' as- poor Richard says. The Sleeping Fox. " I . It would be thought a hard govern- ment that should tax its people one-tenth part of their time, to be employed in its- service ; but idleness taxes many of us much more ; sloth, by bringing on diseases, abso- lutely shortens life. 'Sloth, like rust, con- sumes faster than labor wears, while the used key is always bright,' as poor Richard says. 'But dost thou love life? then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of,' as poor Richard says. How much more than is necessary do we spend in sleep ! forgetting that ' the sleeping fox catches no 265 TEACHING THE YOUNG ECONOMY. 256 ECONOMY. 257 poultry, and that there will be sleeping enough in the grave,' as poor Richard says. " ' If time be of all things the most precious, wasting time must be,' as poor Richard says, 'the greatest prodigality ; ' since, as he else- where tells us, ' lost time is never found again, and what we call time enough always proves little enough.' Let us then up and be doing, and doing to the purpose ; so by diligence shall we do more with less per- plexity. 'Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry all easy ; and he that riseth late must trot all day and shall scarce overtake his business at night ; while laziness travels so slowly, that poverty soon overtakes him. Drive thy business, let not that drive thee ; and early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise,' as poor Richard says. No Gains "Without Pains. "So what signifies wishing and hoping for better times ? We may make these times better, if we bestir ourselves. ' Industry need not wish, and he that lives upon hope will die fasting. There are no gains without pains ; then help hands, for I have no lands,' or, if I have, they are smartly taxed. ' He that hath a trade hath an estate; and, he that hath a calling hath an office of profit and honor,' as poor Richard says. But then the trade must be worked at, and the calling well followed, or neither the estate nor the office will enable us to pay our taxes. " If we are industrious, we shall never starve ; for, ' at the workingman's house hunger looks in, but dares not enter.' Nor will the bailiff or the constable enter; for ' industry pays debts, while despair increaseth them.' What though you have found no treasure, nor has any rich relation left you a legacy ; ' diligence is the mother of good luck, and God gives all things to industry. Then plough deep, while sluggards sleep, and you shall have corn to sell and to keep.' Work while it is called to-day ; for you know not how much you may be hindered to- morrow. ' One to-day is worth two to-mor- rows,' as poor Richard says ; and, further, ' never leave that till to-morrow which you can do to-day.' Little Strokes Fell Great Oaks. " If you were a servant, would you not be ashamed that a good master should catch you idle ? Are you then your own masters ? Be ashamed to catch yourself idle, when there is so much to be done for yourself, your family, your country, and your king. Handle your tools without mittens ; remember that ' the cat in gloves catches no mice,' as poor Richard says. It is true, there is much to be done, and perhaps you are weak -handed ; but stick to it steadily, and you will see great effects, for 'constant dropping wears away stones ; and, by diligence and patience the mouse ate in two the cable ; and little strokes fell great oaks.' "Methinks I hear some of you say, 'Must a man afford himself no leisure ? ' I will tell thee, my friend, what poor Richard says. ' Employ thy time well, if thou meanest to gain leisure ; and, since thou art not sure of a minute, throw not away an hour.' Leisure is time for doing something useful; this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the lazy man never; for 'a life of leisure and a life of laziness are two things. Many, with- out labor, would live by their wits only, but they break for want of stock ; ' whereas in- dustry gives comfort, and plenty, and respect. ' Fly pleasures, and they will follow you. The diligent spinner has a large shift ; and, now I have a sheep and a cow, every one bids me good-morrow.' "2. But, with our industry, we must like- k 258 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. wise be steady, settled and careful, and over- see our own affairs with our own eyes, and not trust too much to others ; for, as poor Richard says, ' I never saw an oft-removed tree, Nor yet an oft-removed family, That throve so well as those that settled be.' " And again, ' three removes is as bad as a fire;' and again, 'keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee;' and again, * if you would have your business done, go, — if not, send.' And again, ' He that by the plough would thrive Himself must either hold or drive.' "And again, 'the eye of a master will do more work than both his hands ; ' and again * want of care does us more damage than want of knowledge ; ' and again, ' not to over- see workmen is to leave them your purse open.' Trusting too much to others' care is the ruin of many ; for, ' in the affairs of this world, men are saved, not by faith, but by the want of it ; ' but a man's own care is profitable ; for ' if you would have a faithfu servant, and one that you like, serve yourself How the Rider Was Lost. "A little neglect may breed great mischief for want of a nail the shoe was lost, and for want of a shoe the horse was lost, and for want of a horse the rider was lost,' being overtaken and slain by the enemy ; all for want of a little care about a horse-shoe nail. "3. So much for industry, my friends, and attention to one's own business. But to these we must add frugality, if we would make our industry more certainly successful. A man may, if he knows not how to save as he gets, 'keep his nose all his life to the grindstone, and die not worth a groat at last A fat kitchen makes a lean will ; ' and again* ' Many estates are spent in the getting, Since women for tea forsook spinning and knitting, And men for punch forsook hewing and splitting.' " ' If you would be wealthy, think of sav- ing, as well as of getting. The Indies have not made Spain rich, because her outgoes are greater than her incomes.' Small Leaks. "Away, then, with your expensive follies, and you will not then have so much cause to complain of hard times, heavy taxes, and chargeable families ; for ' Women and wine, game and deceit, Make the wealth small, and the want great.' "And further, 'what maintains one vice would bring up two children.' You may think, perhaps, that a little tea, or a little punch now and then, diet a little more costly, clothes a little finer, and a little enter- tainment now and then, can be no great matter. But remember, ' many a little makes a mickle.' Beware of little expenses; 'a small leak will sink a great ship,' as poor Richard says ; and again, ' who dainties love shall beggars prove ; ' and, moreover, ' fools make feasts, and wise men eat them.' " Here you are all got together to this sale of fineries and knick-knacks. You call them goods ; but, if you do not take care, they will prove evils to some of you. You expect they will be sold cheap, and perhaps they may, for less than they cost; but, if you have no occasion for them, they must be dear to you. Remember what poor Richard says, ' buy what thou hast no need of, and ere long thou shalt sell thy necessaries.' " And again, ' at a great pennyworth pause a while.' He means that perhaps the cheap- ness is apparent only, and not real ; or the bargain, by straitening thee in thy business, may do thee more harm than good. For, ECONOMY 259 in another place he says, ' many have been ruined by buying good pennyworths.' Again, ' it is foolish to lay out money in a purchase of repentance ; ' and yet this folly is practised every day at auctions, for want of minding the almanac. Poverty in Silks. " Many a one, for the sake of finery on the back, have gone with a hungry belly, and half starved their families ; ' silks and satins, scarlet and velvets, put out the kitchen fire,' as poor Richard says. These are not the necessaries of life, they can scarcely be called the conveniences ; and yet, only because they look pretty, how many want to have them ! By these and other extravagances, the genteel are reduced to poverty, and forced to borrow of those whom they for- merly despised, but who, through industry and frugality, have maintained their standing; in which case it appears plainly that 'a. ploughman on his legs is higher than a gen- tleman on his knees,' as poor Richard says. " Perhaps they have had a small estate left them, which they knew not the getting of ; they think ' it is day, and it will never be night ; ' that a little to be spent out of so much is not worth minding ; but ' always taking out of the meal-tub, and never putting in, soon comes to the bottom,' as poor Rich- ard says ; and then, ' when the well is dry, they know the worth of water.' " But this they might have known before, if they had taken his advice : ' if you would know the value of money, go and try to borrow some ; for he that goes a borrowing goes a sorrowing,' as poor Richard says; and indeed so does he that lends to such people, when he goes to get it again. Poor Dick further advises, and says : ' Fond pride of dress is sure a curse ; Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse.' And again, ' pride is as loud a beggar as want, and a great deal more saucy.' When you have bought one fine thing, you must buy ten more, that your appearance may be all of a piece ; but poor Dick says, ' it is easier to suppress the first desire than to satisfy all that follow it ; ' and it is as truly folly for the poor to ape the rich, as for the frog to swell in order to equal the ox. ' Vessels large may venture more, But little boats should keep near shore.' "It is, however, a folly soon punished; for, as poor Richard says, ' pride that dines on vanity sups on contempt; pride break- fasted with plenty, dined with poverty, and supped with infamy.' And, after all, of what use is this pride of appearance, for which so much is risked, so much is suffered ? It cannot promote health, nor ease pain ; it makes no increase of merit in the person; it creates envy, it hastens misfortune. Running in Debt. " But what madness must it be to run in debt for these superfluities ! We are offered by the terms of this sale six months' credit ; and that perhaps has induced some of us to attend it, because we cannot spare the ready money, and hope now to be fine without it. But, ah ! think what you do when you run into debt ; you give to another power over your liberty. " If you cannot pay at the time, you will be ashamed to see your creditor, you will be in fear when you speak to him, when you will make poor, pitiful, sneaking excuses, and by degrees come to lose your veracity, and sink into base, downright lying ; for ' the second vice is lying, the first is running in debt,' as poor Richard says ; and again, to the same purpose, ' lying rides upon debt's back : ' whereas a free-born Englishman 260 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. ought not to be ashamed nor afraid to see or speak to any man living. " But poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and virtue. ' It is hard for an empty bag to stand upright.' What would you think of that prince, or of that government, who should issue an edict forbidding you to dress like a gentleman or gentlewoman, on pain of imprisonment or servitude ? Would you not say that you were free, have a right to dress as you please, and that such an edict would be a breach of your privileges, and such a government tyrannical ? In the Clutches of Creditors. "And yet, you are about to put yourself under that tyranny when you run in debt for such dress. Your creditor has authority, at his pleasure, to deprive you of your liberty, by confining you in jail for life, or by selling you for a servant, if you should not be able to pay him. When you have got your bargain, you may, perhaps, think little of payment; but, as poor Richard says, * creditors have better memories than debtors ; creditors are a superstitious sect, great obser- vers of set days and times.' The day comes round before you are aware, and the demand is made before you are prepared to satisfy it ; or, if you bear your debt in mind, the term, which at first seemed so long, will, as it les- sens, appear extremely short ; time will seem to have added wings to his heels, as well as his shoulders. 'Those have a short Lent who owe money to be paid at Easter.' "At present, perhaps, you may think your- selves in thriving circumstances, and that you can bear a little extravagance without injury ; but ' For age and want save while you may, — No morning sun lasts a whole day.' Gain may be temporary and uncertain, but ever, while you live, expense is constant and certain ; and ' it is easier to build two chim- neys than to keep one in fuel,' as poor Rich- ard says : so, ' rather go to bed supperless than rise in debt.' ' Get what you can, and what you get hold, 'Tis the stone that will turn all your lead into gold.' And, when you have got the philosopher's stone, sure you will no longer complain of bad times, or the difficulty of paying taxes. "4. This doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom : but, after all, do not depend too much upon your own industry, and fru- gality and prudence, though excellent things ; for they may all be blasted without the bless- ing of Heaven ; and therefore ask that blessing humbly, and be not uncharitable to those that at present seem to want it, but comfort and help them. Remember Job suffered, and was afterwards prosperous. "And now, to conclude, 'experience keeps a dear school, but fools will learn in no other,' as poor Richard says, and scarce in that ; for, it is true, 'we may give advice, but we cannot give conduct : ' however, remember this, ' they that will not be counselled cannot be helped ; ' and further, that ' if you will not hear reason she will surely rap your knuckles,' as poor Richard says." Practised the Contrary. Thus the old gentleman ended his har- angue. The people heard it, and approved the doctrine ; and immediately practised the contrary, just as if it had been a common sermon; for the auction opened, and they began to buy extravagantly. I found the good man had thoroughly studied my al- manacs, and digested all I had dropped on those topics during the course of twenty-five years. The frequent mention he made of me must have tired any one else ; but my vanity was wonderfully delighted with it, THE FRUIT-SELLER COUNTING HER MONEY. 261 262 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. though I was conscious that not a tenth part of the wisdom was my own which he ascribed to me, but rather the gleanings that I have made of the sense of all ages and nations. However, I resolved to be the better for the echo of it ; and, though I had at first deter- mined to buy stuff for a new coat, I went away resolved to wear my old one a little longer. Reader, if thou wilt do the same, thy profit will be as great as Richard Saunders'. A Pithy Old Fable. Franklin's advice suggests the old fable concerning the grasshopper and the bees- A grasshopper, half starved with cold and hunger, came to a well-stored bee-hive at the approach of winter, and humbly begged the bees to relieve his wants with a few drops of honey. One of the bees asked him how he had spent his time all the summer, and why he had not laid up a store of food like them. "Truly," said he, "I spent my time very merrily, in drinking, dancing, and singing, and never once thought of winter." "Our plan is very different," said the bee: " we work hard in the summer to lay by a store of food against the season when we foresee we shall want it ; but those who do nothing but drink, and dance, and sing in the summer must expect to starve in the winter." Competence and comfort lie within the reach of most people, were they to take the adequate means to secure and enjoy them. Men who are paid good wages might also become capitalists, and take their fair share in the improvement and well-being of the world. But it is only by the exercise of labor, energy, honesty, and thrift that they can advance their own position or that of their class. Society at present suffers far more from waste of money than from want of money. It is easier to make money than to know how to spend it. It is not what a man gets that constitutes his wealth, but his manner of spending and economizing. And when a man obtains by his labor more than enough for his personal and family wants, and can lay by a little store of savings besides, he unquestionably possesses the elements of social well-being. The savings may amount to little, but they may be sufficient to make him independent. Above Poverty. To catch Dame Fortune's golden smile, Assiduous wait upon her ; And gather gain by ev'ry wile That's justified by honor : Not for to hide it in a hedge. Nor for a train attendant ; But for the glorious privilege Of being independent. Robert Burns. Thrift of time is equal to thrift of money. Franklin said, " Time is gold." If one wishes to earn money, it may be done by the proper use of time. But time may also be .spent in doing many good and noble actions. It may be spent in learning, in study, in art, in science, in literature. Time can be economized by system. System is an arrangement to secure cer- tain ends, so that no time may be lost in accomplishing them. Every business man must be systematic and orderly; so must every housewife. There must be a place for everything, and everything in its place. There must also be a time for everything,, and everything must be done in time. It is not necessary to show that economy is useful. Nobody denies that thrift may be practiced. We see numerous examples of it. What many men have already done, all other men jnay do. Nor is thrift a painful ECONOMY. virtue. On the contrary, it enables us to avoid much contempt and many indignities. It requires us to deny ourselves, but not to abstain from any proper enjoyment. It pro- vides many honest pleasures, of which thrift- lessness and extravagance deprive us. Habit of Economizing. Let no man say that he cannot economize. There are few persons that could not con- trive to save something weekly. In twenty years one dollar saved weekly would amount to one thousand and forty dollars, to say nothing of interest. Some may say that they cannot save nearly so much. Well ! begin somewhere ; at all events, make a beginning. It is the habit of economizing and denying one's self that needs to be formed. Economy does not require superior cour- age, nor superior intellect, nor any super- human virtue. It merely requires common sense, and the power of resisting selfish enjoyments. In fact, thrift is merely com- mon sense in every-day working action. It needs no fervent resolution, but only a little patient self-denial. Begin is its device ! The more the habit of thrift is practiced, the easier it becomes, and the sooner it compensates the self-denier for the sacrifices which it has imposed. The question may be asked : " Is it pos- sible for a man working for small wages to save anything, and lay it by in a savings- bank, when he requires every penny for the maintenance of his family? But the fact re- mains that it is done by many industrious and sober men ; that they do deny them- selves, and put their spare earnings into savings-banks and the other receptacles provided for poor men's savings. And if some can do this, all may do it under similar circumstances, without depriving themselves 263 any real enjoy- of any genuine pleasure ment. How intensely selfish is it for anyone in the receipt of good pay to spend everything upon himself; or, if he has a family, to spend his whole earnings from week to week, and lay nothing by. When we hear that a man who has been in the receipt of a good salary has died and left nothing behind him — that he has left his wife and family destitute — left them to chance — to live or perish anywhere — we cannot but regard it as the most selfish thriftlessness. And yet comparatively little is thought of such cases. Perhaps the hat goes round. Subscriptions may produce something — ^perhaps nothing; and the ruined remnants of the unhappy family sink into poverty and destitution. Laying Up for a Rainy Day. Yet the merest prudence would, to a great extent, have obviated this result. The cur- tailment of any sensual or selfish enjoyment would enable a man, in the course of years, to save at least something for others, ins'jaJ of wasting it on himself It is, in fact, the absolute duty of the poorest man to provide^ in however slight a degree, for the support of his family in the season of sickness and helplessness, which often comes upon men when they least expect such a visitation. Comparatively few people can be rich ; but most have it in their power to acquire, by industry and economy, sufficient to meet their personal wants. They may even become the possessors of savings sufficient to secure them against penury and poverty in their old age. It is not, however, the want of opportunity, but the want of will, that stands in the way of economy. Men may labor unceasingly with hand or head ; but they cannot abstain from spending too freely and living too highly. 264 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. The majority prefer the enjoyment of pleasure to the practice of self-denial. - With the mass of men the animal is paramount. They often spend all that they earn. But it is not merely the working people who are spendthrifts. We hear of men who for years have been earning and spending thousands a year, who suddenly die, leaving their children penniless. Everybody knows of such cases. At their death the very furniture of the house they have lived in belongs to others. It is sold to pay their funeral expenses, and the debts which they have incurred during their thriftless life-time. Money represents a multitude of objects without value or without real utility ; but it also represents something much more pre- cious, and that is independence. In this light it is of great moral importance. As a guarantee of independence, the modest and plebian quality of economy is at once ennobled and raised to the rank of the most meritorious of virtues. Living from Hand to Mouth. "Never treat money affairs with levity," said Bulwer ; "money is character." Some of man's best qualities depend upon the right use of money — such as his generosity, ben- evolence, justice, honesty, and forethought. Many of his worst qualities also originate in the bad use of money — such as greed, miser- liness, injustice, extravagance and improvi- dence. No class ever accomplished anything that lived from hand to mouth. People who spend all that they earn are ever hanging on the brink of destitution. They must neces- sarily be weak and impotent — the slaves of time and circumstance. They keep them- selves poor. They lose self-respect, as well as the respect of others. It is impossible lliat they can be free and independent. To be thriftless is enough to deprive one of all manly spirit and virtue. But a man with something saved, no matter how little, is in a different position. The little capital he has stored up is always a source of power. He is no longer the .sport of time and fate. He can boldly look the world in the face. He is, in a manner, his own master. He can dictate his own terms. He can neither be bought nor sold. He can look forward with cheerfulness to an old age of comfort and happiness. What About To-Morrow? As men become wise and thoughtful, they generally become provident and frugal. A thoughtless man, like a savage, spends as he gets, thinking nothing of to-morrow, of the time of adversity, or of the claims of those whom he has made dependent on him. But a wise man thinks of the future; he prepares in good time for the evil day that may come upon him and his family ; and he provides carefully for those who are near and dear to him. What a serious responsibility does the man incur who marries ! Not many seriously think of this responsibility. Perhaps this is wisely ordered. For much .serious thinking might end in the avoidance of married life and its responsibilities. But, once married, a man ought forthwith to determine that, so far as his own efforts are concerned, want shall never enter his household ; and that his children shall not, in the event of his being removed from the scene of life and labor, be left a burden upon society. Economy with this object is an important duty. Without economy, no man can be just — no man can be honest. Improvidence is cruelty to women and children, though the cruelty is born of ignorance. A father spends his surplus means in drink, providing little ECONOMY. 265 and saving nothing ; and then he dies, leav- ing his destitute family his life-long victims. Can any form of cruelty surpass this ? Yet this reckless, course is pursued to a large extent. Men live beyond their means. They live extravagantly. They are ambi- tious of glare and glitter, frivolity and pleas- ure. They struggle to be rich, that they may have the means of spending — of having " a good time." Living at High-Pressure. Thinking people believe that life is now too fast, and that we are living at high- pressure. In short, we live extravagantly. We live beyond our means. We throw away our earnings, and often throw our lives after them. Many persons are diligent enough in making money, but do not know how to economize it, or how to spend it. They have sufficient skill and industry to do the one, but they want the necessary wisdom to do the other. The temporary passion for enjoy- ment seizes us, and we give way to it without regard to consequences. And yet it may be merely the result of forgetfulness, and may be easily controlled by firmness of will, and by energetic resolution to avoid the occa- sional causes of expenditure for the future. The habit of saving arises, for the most part, in the desire to ameliorate our social condition, as well as to ameliorate the condi- tion of those who are dependent upon us. It dispenses with everything which is not essential, and avoids all methods of living that are wasteful and extravagant. A pur- chase made at the lowest price will be dear, if it be a superfluity. Little expenses lead to great. Buying things that are not wanted soon accustoms us to prodigality in other respects. Cicero said, " Not to have a mania for buying, is to possess a revenue." Many are carried away by the habit of bargain-buying. " Here is something wonderfully cheap : let us buy it." "Have you any use for it?" "No, not at present; but it is sure to come in use sometime." Fashion runs in this habit of buying. Some buy old china — as much as will furnish a china-shop. Others buy old pictures — :old furniture — all great bargains ! There would be little harm in buying these old things, if they were not so often bought at the expense of the connois- seur's creditors. Horace Walpole once said, " I hope that there will not be another sale, for I have not an inch of room nor a farthing left." Making Hay While the Sun Shines. Men must prepare in youth and in middle age the means for enjoying old age pleas- antly and happily. There can be nothing more distressing than to see an old man who has spent the greater part of his life in well- paid-for labor, reduced to the necessity of beg- ging for bread, and relying entirely upon the commiseration of his neighbors or upon the bounty of strangers. Such a consideration as this should inspire men in early life with a determination to work and to save, for the benefit of themselves and their families in later years. It is, in fact, in youth that economy should be practiced, and in old age that men should dispense liberally, provided they do not exceed their income. The young man has a long future before him, during which he may exercise the principles of economy ; while the other is reaching the end of his career, and can carry nothing out of the world with him. This, however, is not the usual practice. The young man now spends, or desires to spend, quite as liberally, and often much more liberally than his father, who is about '20(3 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. to end his career. He begins life where his father left off. He spends more than his father did at his age, and soon finds himself up to his ears in debt. To satisfy his incess- ant wants, he resorts to unscrupulous means and illicit gains. He tries to make money rapidly ; he speculates, overtrades, and is speedily wound up. Thus he obtains expe- rience; but it is the result, not of well-doing, but of ill-doing. Socrates recommends the fathers of fami- lies to observe the practice of their thrifty neighbors — of those who spend their means to the best advantage — and to profit by their example. Thrift is essentially practical, and can best be taught by facts. Two men earn, say, three dollars a day. They are in pre- cisely the same condition as respects family living and expenditure. Yet the one says he cannot save, and does not ; while the other says he can save, and regularly deposits part of his savings in a savings-bank and eventually becomes a capitalist. The Source of W^ell-Being. Samuel Johnson fully knew the straits of poverty. He once signed his name Impran- sus, or Dinnerless. He had walked the streets with Savage, not knowing where to lay his head at night. Johnson never forgot the poverty through which he passed in his early life, and he was always counselling his friends and readers to avoid it. Like Cicero, he averred that the best source of wealth or well-being was economy. He called it the daughter of Prudence, the sister of Temper- ance, and the mother of Liberty. "Poverty," he said, "takes away so many means of doing good, and produces so much inability to resist evil, both natural and moral, that it is by all virtuous means to be avoided. Resolve, then, not to be poor; whatever you have, spend less. Frugality is not only the basis of quiet, but of beneficence. No man can help others who wants help himself: we must have enough before we have to spare," And again he said, "Poverty is a great enemy to human happiness. It certamly destroys liberty, and it makes some virtues impracticable, and others extremely difficult. for without economy none can be rich, ana with it few can be poor." When economy is looked upon as a thing that must be practiced, it will never be felt as a burden ; and those who have not before observed it, will be astonished to find what a few pennies or dollars laid aside weekly will do toward securing moral elevation, mental culture, and personal independence. There is a dignity in every attempt to economize. Its very practice is improving. It indicates self-denial, and imparts strength to the character. It produces a well-regu- lated mind. It fosters temperance. It is based on forethought. It makes prudence the dominating characteristic. It gives virtue the mastery over self-indulgence. Above all, it secures comfort, drives away care, and dis- pels many vexations and anxieties which might otherwise prey upon us. An employer recommended one of his workmen to " lay by something for a rainy day." Shortly after, the master asked the man how much he had added to his store. "Faith, nothing at all," said he; "I did as you bid me; but it rained very hard yester- day, and it all went — in drink ! " Look at the Pennies. Letters joined make words, And words to books may grow As flake on flake, descending. Forms an avalanche of snow. A single utterance may good Or evil thoughts inspire ; One little spark, enkindled, May set a town on fire. ECONOMY. 267 What volumes may be written With little drops of ink ! How small a leak, unnoticed, A mighty ship will sink ! A tiny insect's labor Makes the coral strand, And mighty seas are girdled With grains of golden sand. A daily penny, saved, A fortune may begin ; A daily penny, squandered, May lead to vice and sin. Our life is made entirely Of moments multiplied, As little streamlets, joining, Form the ocean's tide. The methods of practicing economy are very simple. Spend less than you earn. That is the first rule. A portion should always be set apart for the future. The person who spends more than he earns is a fool. The civil law regards the spendthrift as akin to the lunatic, and frequently takes from him the management of his own affairs. A Heavy Burden. The next rule is, to pay ready money, and never, on any account, to run into debt. The person who runs into debt is apt to get cheated; and if he runs into debt to any ex- tent, he will himself be apt to get dishonest. "Who pays what he owes, enriches himself" The next is, never to anticipate uncertain profits by expending them before they are secured. The profits may never come, and in that case you will have taken upon your- self a load of debt which you may never get rid of It will sit upon your shoulders like the old man in Sindbad. Another method of economy is, to keep a regular account of all that you earn and of all that you expend. An orderly man will know beforehand what he requires, and will be provided with the necessary means for obtaining it. Thus his domestic budget will be balanced, and his expenditure kept within his income. John Wesley regularly adopted this course. Although he possessed a small income, he always kept his eyes upon the state of his affairs. A year before his death, he wrote, with a trembling hand, in his Journal of Expenses : " For more than eighty-six years I have kept my accounts exactly. I do not care to continue to do so any longer, having the conviction that I economize all that I obtain, and give all that I can — that is to say, all that I have.'" Keep Your Eyes Open. Besides these methods of economy, the eye of the employer is always necessary to see that nothing is lost, that everything is put to its proper use and kept in its proper place, and that all things are done decently and in order. It does no dishonor to even the highest individuals to take a personal interest in their own affairs. And with per- sons of moderate means, the necessity for the eye of the employer overlooking every- thing, is absolutely necessary for the proper conduct of business. It is difficult to fix the precise limits of economy. Bacon says that if a man would live well within his income, he ought not to expend more than one-half and save the rest. This is perhaps too exacting; and Bacon himself did not follow his own advice. What proportion of one's income should be ex- pended on rent? That depends upon cir- cumstances. It is, at all events, better to save too much than spend too much. One may remedy the first defect, but not so easily the latter. Wherever there is a large family, the more money that is put to one side and saved, the better. Economy is necessary to the moderately 268 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. rich as well as to the comparatively poor man. Without economy, a man cannot be generous. He cannot take part in the charitable work of the world. If he spends all that he earns, he can help nobody. He cannot properly educate his children, nor put them in the way of starting fairly in the business of life. Even the example of Bacon shows that the loftiest intelligence cannot neglect thrift without peril. But thousands of witnesses daily testify that men even of the most moderate intelligence can practice the virtue with success. To save money for avaricious purposes is altogether different from saving it for econ- omical purposes. The saving may be ac- complished in the same manner — by wasting nothing and saving everything. But here the comparison ends. The miser's only pleasure is in saving. The prudent econo- mist spends what he can afford for comfort and enjoyment, and saves a surplus for some future time. The Golden Calf. The avaricious person makes gold his idol : it is his molten calf, before which he constantly bows down ; whereas the thrifty person regards it as a useful instrument, and as a means of promoting his own happiness and the happiness of those who are dependent upon him. The miser is never satisfied. He amasses wealth that he can never consume, but leaves it to be squandered by others, probably by spendthrifts ; whereas the econo- mist aims at securing a fair share of the world's wealth and comfort, without any thought of amassing a fortune. It is the duty of all persons to economize their means — of the young as well as of the old. Is a man married ? Then the duty of economy is still more binding. His wife and children plead to him most eloquently. Are they, in the event of his early death, to be left to buffet with the world unaided ? The hand of charity is cold, the gifts of charity are valueless compared with the gains of industry and the honest savings of frugal labor, which carry with them blessings and comforts, without inflicting any wound upon the feelings of the helpless and bereaved. Let every man, therefore, who can, en- deavor to economize and to save; not to hoard, but to nurse his little savings, for the sake of promoting the welfare and happiness of himself while here, and of others when he has departed. How to Secure Comfort. There is a dignity in the very effort to save with a worthy purpose, even though the attempt should not be crowned with eventual success. It produces a well regulated mind ; it gives prudence a triumph over extrava- gance ; it gives virtue the mastery over vice; it puts the passions under control ; it drives away care ; it secures comfort. Saved money, however little, will serve to dry up many a tear — will ward off many sorrows and heart-burnings, which otherwise might prey upon us. Possessed of a little store of capital, a man walks with a lighter step, his heart beats more cheerily. When interruption of work or adversity happens, he can meet it ; he can recline on his capital, which will either break his fall or prevent it altogether. There are, of course, many failures in the world. The man who looks to others for help, instead of relying on himself, will fail. The man who is undergoing the process oi perpetual waste will fail. The miser, the scrub, the extravagant, the thriftless, will necessarily fail. Indeed, most people fail because they do not deserve to succeed. They set about their work in the wrong way, ECONOMY. 269 and no amount of experience seems to improve them. There is not so much in hick as some people profess to beheve. Luck is only another word for good management in practical affairs. Richelieu used to say that he would not continue to employ an unlucky man — in other words, a man wanting in practical qualities, and unable to profit by experience ; for failures in the past are very often the auguries of failures in the future. He Put Out the Candle. Thomas Guy was so complete an exemplar of economy, that the celebrated Vulture Hopkins once called upon him to learn a lesson in the art of saving. On being intro- duced into the parlor, Guy, not knowing his visitor, lighted a candle ; and then Hopkins said, "Sir, I always thought myself perfect in the art of getting and husbanding money, but being told that you far exceed me, I have taken the liberty of waiting upon you to be satisfied on this subject." "If that is all your business," repHed Guy, " we can as well talk it over in the dark as in the light," at the same time carefully putting out his farthing candle with the extinguisher. This was evidence enough to Hopkins, who acknowledged Guy to be his master, and took his leave. Macaulay in his " Life of Frederick the Great," says: "Every seventh man in the vigor of life was a soldier — army expenses enormous. In order that it might not be utterly ruinous, it was necessary that every other expense should be cut down to the lowest possible point. Accordingly, Fred- erick, though his dominions bordered on the sea, had no navy. He neither had nor wished to have colonies. His judges, his fiscal officers, were meanly paid. His min- isters at foreign courts walked on foot, or drove shabby old carriages till the axletrees gave way. Even to his highest diplomatic agents, who resided at London and Paris, he allowed less than ^5000 a year. "The royal household was managed with a frugality unusual in the establishments of opulent subjects — unexampled in any other palace. The king loved good eating and drinking, and during a great part of his life took pleasure in seeing his table surrounded by guests ; yet the whole charge of his kitchen was brought within the sum of ;$ 10,000 a year. He examined every extra- ordinary item with a care which might be thought to suit the mistress of a boarding- house better than a great prince." A Thrifty Ruler. Gibbon in his " Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire" gives an illustrious ex- ample of thrift: "John Ducas Vataces, ruler of the Eastern Empire in 1222, rescued the provinces from national and foreign usurpers. The calamities of the times had wasted the numbers and the substance of the Greeks; the motives and the means of agriculture were extirpated; and the most fertile lands were left without cultivation or inhabitants. A portion of this vacant property was occu- pied and improved by the command, and for the benefit, of the emperor; a powerful hand and a vigilant eye supplied and surpassed^ by a skilful management, the minute dili- gence of a private farmer; the royal domain became the garden and granary of Asia- and without impoverishing the people, the sovereign acquired a fund of innocent and productive wealth. "According to the nature of the soil, his lands were sown with corn or planted with vines; the pastures were filled with horses and oxen, with sheep and hogs; and when Vataces presented to the empress a crown 270 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. of diamonds and pearls, he informed her, with a smile, that this precious ornament arose from the sale of the eggs of his innumerable poultry. " The produce of his domain was applied to the maintenance of his palace and hos- pitals, the calls of dignity and benevolence; the lesson was still more useful than the revenue; the plough was restored to its ancient security and honor; and the nobles were taught to seek a sure and independent revenue from their estates, instead of adorn- ing their splendid beggary by the oppression of the people, or (what is almost the same) by the favors of the court." When William Penn was about to leave his family for America, his wife, who was the love of his youth, was reminded of his impoverishment because of his public spirit, and recommended economy. "Live low and sparingly till my debts be paid." Yet for his children he adds : " Let their learning be liberal; spare no cost, for by such parsi- mony all is lost that is saved." Society mainly consists of two classes — the savers and the wasters, the provident and the improvident, the thrifty and the thriftless, the Haves and the Have-nots. The men who economize by means of labor become the owners of capital which sets other labor in motion. Capital accu- mulates in their hands, and they employ other laborers to work for them. Thus trade and commerce begin. The thrifty build houses, warehouses, and mills. They fit manufactories with tools and machines. They build ships, and send them to various parts of the world. They put their capital together, and build railroads, harbors, and docks. They open up mines of coal, iron, and copper, and erect pump- ing-engines to keep them clear of water. They employ laborers to work the mines, and thus give rise to an immense amount of employment. All this is the result of thrift. It is the result of economizing money and employing it for beneficial purposes. The thriftless man has no share in the progress of the world. He spends all that he gets, and can give no help to anybody. No matter how much money he makes, his position is not in any respect raised. He husbands none of his resources. He is always calling for help. He is, in fact, the born slave of the thrifty, and is ever dependent. CHAPTKR XVI COURAGE. HERE is a grand virtue that goes by the blunt name of "Pluck." It would take vol- umes to record its victories. You should be able to face a duty or a trial. Walk up to it with determination in every look and action. Pluck is opposed to cow- ardice. It does not belong to weak charac- ters. You find it wherever anything worth doing is done, worth achieving is achieved. It can stand a shock without fainting. It doesn't mope around with camphor and a smelling-bottle. It doesn't run when a leaf rustles. Its hair is not likely to stand straight up through fright. It doesn't run for ghosts; it marches right up, and the ghost runs. Pluck has done wonders. If you have it, thank God for it; if you haven't it, you ought to have an assured income, someone to pay for your food and clothes, and give you a decent burial, when, fortunately for the world, you die. This magnificent courage has had its praises sung in epics and told in history. Not half enough has ever been said about it. Go on telling its achievements for ages, and you would then only be in the first chapter. Bronze and marble commemorate it, but its glories and triumphs will last when bronze and marble have crumbled. Courage without wisdom is mere boldness, and there is a bad boldness that defeats itself. You like to see a man who knows he is right stand like a rock. You despise the man who is blown about by every wind that comes along. President Garfield once said : "A pound of pluck is worth a ton of luck. Let not poverty stand as an obstacle in your way. Poverty is uncomfortable, as I can testify ; but nine times out of ten the best thing that can happen to a young man is to be tossed overboard and be compelled to sink or swim for himself In all my acquaintances I have never known one to be drowned who was worth saving." Pluck won the American Revolution. It has won all fame and all fortune. It makes a man a hero, a general, a victor. It has put the laurel on every brow that ever wore it. Courage to do Right. We may have courage, all of us. To start at honor's call, To meet a foe, protect a friend. Or face a cannon ball. To show the world one hero lives, The foremost in the fight — But do we always manifest The courage to do right ? To answer No ! with steady breath, And quick unfaltering tongue, When fierce temptation, ever near, Her syren song has sung ? To care not for the bantering tone, The jest, or studied slight : Content if we can only have The courage to do right ? To step aside from fashion's course, Or custom's favored plan ; To pluck an outcast from the street, Or help a fellow man ? If not, then let us nobly try, Henceforth, with all our might. In every case to muster up The courage to do right ! 271 272 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 273 The world owes much to its men and women of courage. We do not mean physi- cal courage, in which man is at least equalled by the bull-dog; nor is the bull-dog con- .sidered the wisest of his species. The courage that displays itself in silent effort and endeavor — that dares to endure all and suffer all for truth and duty — is more truly heroic than the achievements of physi- cal valor, which are rewarded by honors and titles, or by laurels sometimes steeped in blood. It is moral courage that characterizes the highest order of manhood and womanhood — the courage to seek and to speak the truth; the courage to be just; the courage to be honest ; the courage to resist tempta- tion ; the courage to do one's duty. If men and women do not possess this virtue, they have no security whatever for the preserva- tion of any other. An Upward Struggle. Every step of progress in the history of our race has been made in the face of oppo- sition and difficulty, and been achieved and secured by men of intrepidity and valor — by leaders in the van of thought — by great dis- covers, great patriots, and great workers in all walks of life. There is scarcely a great truth or doctrine but has had to fight its way to public recognition in the face of detrac- tion, calumny, and persecution. Wherever a great soul gives utterance to its thoughts, there also is a Golgotha. While the followers of the astronomer Copernicus were persecuted as infidels, Kep- ler was branded with the stigma of heresy, "because," said he, " I take that side which seems to me to be consonant with the Word of God." Even the pure and simple-minded Newton, of whom Bishop Burnet said that he had the "whitest soul " he ever knew — who 18 was a very infant in the purity of his mmd — even Newton was accused of " dethroning the Deity " by his sublime discovery of the law of gravitation ; and a similar charge was made against Franklin for explaining the nature of the thunderbolL. Spinoza was excommunicated by the Jews, to whom he belonged, because of his views of philosophy, which were supposed to be adverse to religion ; and his life was after- wards attempted by an assassin for the same reason. Spinoza remained courageous and self-reliant to the last, dying in obscruity and poverty. The Best Things Opposed. Indeed, there has scarcely been a discov- ery in astronomy, in natural history, or in physical science, that has not been attacked by the bigoted and narrow-minded as leading to infidelity. Other great discoverers, though they may not have been charged with irreligion, have had not less obloquy of a professional and public nature to encounter. When Dr. Har- vey published his theory of the circulation of the blood, his practice fell off, and the medi- cal profession stigmatized him as a fool. "The few good things I have been able to do," said John Hunter, "have been accom- plished with the greatest difficulty, and encountered the greatest opposition." Sir Charles Bell, while employed in his important investigations as to the nervous system, which issued in one of the greatest of physiological discoveries, wrote to a friend : "If I were not so poor, and had not so many vexations to encounter, how happy would I be ! " But he himself observed that his prac- tice sensibly fell off after the publication of each successive stage of his discovery. Thus nearly every enlargement of the domain of knowledge, which has made us L 274 COURAGE. better acquainted with the heavens, with the •earth, and with ourselves, has been established hy the energy, the devotion, the self-sacrifice, and the courage of the great spirits of past times, who, however much they have been opposed or reviled by their contemporaries, now rank among those whom the enlightened .of thfe human race most delight to honor. Charity for All. Nor is the unjust intolerence displayed towards men of science in the past without its lesson for the present. It teaches us to •be forbearant towards those who differ from us, provided they observe patiently, think honestly, and ut'.er their convictions freely and truthfu^'^. It was a remark of Plato, that " the world is God's epistle to mankind ; " .and to read and study that epistle, so as to elicit its true meaning, can have no other effect on a well-ordered mind than to lead to a deeper impression of his power, a clearer perception of his wisdom, and a more grate- ful sense of his goodness. While such has been the courage of the tmartyrs of science, not less glorious has been the courage of the martyrs of faith. The passive endurance of the man or woman who, for conscience' sake, is found ready to suffer and to endure in solitude, without so much as the encouragement of even a single sym- pathizing voice, is an exhibition of courage of a far higher kind than that displayed in the roar of battle, where even the weakest feels encouraged and inspired by the enthusiasm of sympathy and the power of jiumbers. Time would fail to tell of the deathless names of those who through faith in princi- ples, and in the face of difficulty, danger, and suffering, "have wrought righteousness and waxed valiant " in the moral warfare of the world,, and been content to lay down their lives rather than prove false to their conscientious convictions of the truth. Men of this stamp, inspired by a high sense of duty, have in past times exhibited character in its most heroic aspects, and continue to present to us some of the noblest spectacles to be seen in history, Even women, full of tenderness and gentleness, not less than men, have in this cause been found capable of exhibiting the most unflinch- ing courage. Such, for instance, as that of Anne Askew, who, when racked until her bones were dislocated, uttered no cry, moved no muscle, but looked her tormentors calmly in the face, and refused either to confess or to recant ; or such as that of Latimer and Ridley, who, instead of bewailing their hard fate and beating their breasts, went as cheer- fully to their death as a bridegroom to the altar — the one bidding the other to " be of good comfort," for that "we shall this day Hght such a candle in England, by God's grace, as shall never be put out ; " or such, again, as that of Mary Dyer, the Quakeress, hanged by the Puritans of New England for preaching to the people, who ascended the scaffold with a willing step, and, after calmly addressing those who stood about, resigned herself into the hands of her persecutors, and died in peace and joy. "The Field is Won." Not less courageous was the behavior of the good Sir Thomas More, who marched willingly to the scaffold, and died cheerfully there, rather than prove false to his conr- science. When More had made his final decision to stand upon his principles, he felt as if he had won a victory, and said to his son-in-law Roper: "Son Roper, I thank our Lord, the field is won ! " The Duke of Nor- folk told him of his danger, saying: "Master More, it is perilous striving with princes ; the THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 275 anger of a prince brings death!" "Is that all, my lord?" said More; "then the differ- ence between you and me is this — that I shall die to-day, and you to-morrow." While it has been the lot of many great men, in times of difficulty and danger, to be cheered and supported by their wives. More had no such consolation. His helpmate did anything but console him during his impris- onment within the old London Tower. She could not conceive that there was any suffi- cient reason for his continuing to lie there, when, by merely doing what the king re- quired of him, he might at once enjoy his liberty, together with his fine house at Chel- sea, his library, his orchard, his gallery, and the society of his wife and children. A Bitter Reproach. "I marvel," said she to him one day," "that you, who have been alway hitherto taken for wise, should now so play the fool as to lie here in this close, filthy prison, and be content to be shut up among mice and rats, when you might be abroad at your lib- erty, if you would but do as the bishops have done! " But More saw his duty from a different point of view : it was not a mere matter of personal comfort with him, and the expostu- lations of his wife were of no avail. He gently put her aside, saying, cheerfully, " Is not this house as nigh heaven as my own?" More's daughter, Margaret Roper, on the contrary, encouraged her father to stand firm in his principles, and dutifully consoled and cheered him during his long confinement. Deprived of pen and ink, he wrote his letters to her with a piece of coal, saying in one of them : " If I were to declare in writing how much pleasure your daughterly, loving let- ters gave me, a peck of coals would not suf- fice to make the pens." More was a martyr to veracity: he would not swear a false oath ; and he perished be- cause he was sincere. When his head had been struck off, it was placed on London Bridge, in accordance with the barbarous practice of the times. Margaret Roper had the courage to ask for the head to be taken down and given to her, and, carrying her affection for her father beyond the grave, she desired that it might be buried with her when she died; and, long after, when Margaret Roper's tomb was opened, the precious relic was observed lying on the dust of what had been her bosom. The celebrated Mary Lyon, of Mount Holyoke Seminary, Mass., one of the noblest and best of women, used the following re- markable words, which were beautifully illus- trated by her life : " There is nothing in the universe that I fear, but that I shall not know all my duty, or shall fail to do it." The true test of courage is, in all circumstances, to " dare to do right! " Dare to do Avhat your conscience will approve, and will be esteemed right by good society. Noble Daring. Dare to think, though others frown ; Dare in words your thoughts express ; Dare to rise, though oft cast down ; Dare the wronged and scorned to bless. Dare from custom to depart ; Dare the priceless pearl possess ; Dare to wear it next your heart ; Dare, when others cvurse, to bless. Dare forsake what you deem wrong ; Dare to walk in wisdom's way ; Dare to give where gifts belong ; Dare God's precepts to obey. Do what conscience says is right ; Do what reason says is best ; Do with all your mind and might ; Do vour duty and be blest. DRUIDS INCITING THE BRITONS TO RESIST THE ROMANS. 276 THK CARDINAL VIRTUES. 277 Among the ancient Gauls and Britons was a powerful priesthood called the Druids. They were at once priests, teachers and judges; they tried criminals, fixed punish- ments, decided all public questions and their power was so great that they could decree peace with other nations or incite to war, never doing the latter, hoAvever, except in self-defence and as a last resort. They per- formed their religious rites in groves and rocky retreats, and among them the oak tree was especially sacred. When the Romans invaded Britain the Druids incited the people to rebellion, did all they could to uphold the national cause, and inspired such courage as resulted in deeds of valor that have become historic. And, indeed, history is full of examples of this kind of courage. Yet it is moral hero- ism that should be especially commended. This belongs to the noblest type of manhood. Called a Coward. One of the most trying tests of a young man's virtue arises from an insinuation that he is a coward. Upon this subject most men are very sensitive, disliking to be con- sidered deficient in what they suppose is the very essence of real manhood. But, unfortu- nately, the test is rarely presented in things that are right; the challenge is not to do deeds that are noble and worthy of praise, but to force the person to do wrong. In this way it becomes an influence for mischief that produces the saddest effect upon character. If a young man refuses to assist in robbing an orchard, he is stigmatized, by those who hav e no moral principle or manly feeling, as a coward; if he is unwilling to drink intoxi- cating liquor, or if he declines to violate the laws of school or society, his refusal is im- puted to dishonorable fear. Many a person is driven to do what his judgment and his conscience ahke condemn, because he dreads that others will not think him brave. Such fear is the greatest and basest cowardice. Thus there are two kinds of courage, physical and moral; the former finds its highest type in the bull-dog, while the latter is illu.strated by those persons who have suf- fered martyrdom rather than sacrifice their love of right and conscientious convictions of truth. Human Brutes. An English dog-breeder, who possessed a race of terriers of remarkable ferocity and endurance, offered to bet a large sum of money, that when a certain dog, which he owned, was engaged in fighting, he coulJ cut off three of his legs, and the dog would not give up or relinquish his hold. The bet was taken, and the dogs were set to, when the poor brute actually suffered one leg to be taken off after another, and finally suffered death rather than cease to fight. It is hard to say which was the greatei object of pity, the poor dog, whose savage instincts led him to suffer and die rather than let go his hold, or the brutal, vicious master who could engage in such wicked cruelty and call it sport. We wonder at the fero- cious instinct of the bull-terrier and remem- ber that while he possesses physical courage in so remarkable a degree, there is nothing else in him that in any way commends him to our admiration. He is cross, unsociable, untractable, unreliable, and vicious ; he is among dogs what the prize-fighter or the professed pugilist is among men — the mean- est and most unworthy animal of his kind. The person who, for money or the love of notoriety, permits himself to engage in an encounter, in which he will receive and inflict serious and sometimes fatal injuries, possesses no quality that raises him in any degree above k 278 COURAGE. a brute. In such an exhibition, the bull-dog is his equal and the hyena is his superior. Many a man can even enter a battle, and in the excitement of the conflict, surrounded by his friends and backers, fight ferociously, receive wounds, and dare death, who has not a particle of that high moral courage which would lead him to suffer insult and injury and endure them silently for the sake of a principle. It is often a braver thing to be called a coward and not resent it than it would be to fight a battle. Bad men are not always brave. During the civil war a regiment was raised in one of the northern cities composed entirely of those men who had become notorious as street bullies, and who were always promi- nent in drunken brawls and fights. It was supposed that they would make capital soldiers, and great hopes were excited that they would distinguish themselves by their fearlessness and contempt of danger and death. A Worthless Rabble. As might have been reasonably expected, they utterly failed to make any honorable record. How could they? They were not actuated by any principle of honor; they did not enter the army from motives of duty or patriotism, or love for the cause they engaged to defend. The excitement of army life and the hope of bounty and plunder were their only motives. They could kill a man at night in the city and rob him, but as soldiers they were cowardly, unreliable and worthless. It needs more than rough, coarse, fierce brutality to give a person a character for courage. True courage is a combination of moral and physical qualities, so united as to secure the noblest character. A pure conscience, a clear, intelligent mind, and a strong body are necessary to the highest form of cour- ageous manhood. A man may have a moral courage which would enable him to dare any consequences to do right, and, at the same time, a physical weakness which would shrink at the slightest pain. Of such a combination martyrs have often been made, but the moral heroism overcame the fear of death and the pangs of torture. Fear of Ridicule. A really brave man never exposes himself needlessly to danger, and if unhappily en- trapped in a quarrel, he will always refuse to fight until compelled in self-defense. He will suffer insult and indignity, permit himself to be called hard names and to be misrepre- sented, rather than allow hatred and murder to enter his heart, or do that which in his calmer moments he would abhor. For- bearance is a divine attribute, and worthy of special cultivation. It is the coward that is driven by his fears of ridicule to do that which he knows is wrong. We have heroes in every-day life. A boy in the town of Weser, in Germany, playing one day with his sister, four years of age, was alarmed by the cry of some men who were in pursuit of a mad dog. The boy, suddenly looking round, saw the dog run- ning toward him, but instead of making his escape, he calmly took off his coat, and, wrapping it round his arm, boldly faced the dog. Holding out the arm covered with the coat, the animal attacked it and worried it until the men came up and killed the dog. The men reproachfully asked the boy why he did not run and avoid the dog, which he could so easily have done. "Yes," said the little hero, " I could have run from the dog, but if I had he would have attacked my sister. To protect her, I offered him my coat, that he might tear it." THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 279 A similar case of heroism occurred in the city of Evansville, Indiana, in which Emma Carroll, a httle girl eleven years old, ran through the flames of burning kerosene and rescued, at the expense of her life, her motherless baby brother, of whom she had the care. In the terrible agony of her dying hours, she was consoled with the thought that the baby had escaped unharmed. She had saved him. And she showed that one of the gentler sex may be as brave as the stout-hearted fireman who surprises us by his deeds of daring. Education in courage is not usually in- cluded among the branches of female train- ing, and yet it is really of much greater importance than either music, French, or the use of the globes. Contrary to the view that women should be characterized by a "tender fear," and an " inferiority which makes her lovely," we would have women educated in resolution and courage, as a means of rendering them more helpful, more self-reUant, and vastly more useful and happy. Gentleness and Courage. There is nothing attractive in timidity, nothing lovable in fear. All weakness, whether of mind or body, is equivalent to deformity, and the reverse of interesting. Courage is graceful and dignified ; while fear, in any form, is mean and repulsive. Yet the utmost tenderness and gentleness are consistent with courage. Ary Scheffer, the artist, once wrote to his daughter : " Dear daughter, strive to be of good courage, to be gentle-hearted; these are the true qualities for woman. ' Troubles ' everybody must expect. There is but one way of looking at fate — whatever that be, whether blessings or afflictions — to behave with dignity under both. We must not lose heart, or it will be the worse both for our- selves and for those whom we love. To struggle, and again and again to renew the conflict — this is life's inheritance." A Brave Heart. I said to sorrow's awful storm, That beat against my breast, " Rage on ! Thou may'st destroy this form. And lay it low at rest ; But still the spirit that now brooks Thy tempest raging high, Undaunted on its fury looks With steadfast eye." I said to penury's meagre train, ' ' Come on ! your threats I brave ; My last poor life-drop you may drain,. And crush me to the grave ; Yet still the spirit that endures Shall mock your force the while. And meet each cold, cold grasp of yours With bitter smile. ' ' I said to cold neglect and scorn, ' ' Pass on ! I heed you not ; Ye may pursue me till my form And being are forgot ; Yet still the spirit which 3'ou see, Undaunted by your wiles. Draws from its own nobility Its high-born smiles." I said to friendship's menaced blow, " Strike deep ! my heart shall bear ; Thou canst but add one bitter woe To those already there ; Yet still the spirit that sustains This last severe distress. Shall smile upon its keenest pains, And scorn redress." I said to death's uplifted dart, "Aim sure ! Oh ! why delay ? Thou wilt not find a fearful heart — A weak, reluctant prey ; For still the spirit, firm and free, Unrufled by this last dismay, Wrapt in its own eternity. Shall pass away." Lavinia Stoddard. In sickness or sorrow none are braver and less complaining sufferers than women. Their courage, where their hearts are con- 280 COURAGE. cerned, is indeed proverbial. Experience has proved that women can be as enduring as men under the heaviest trials and calami- ties ; but too little pains are taken to teach them to endure petty terrors and frivolous vexations with fortitude. Such little miseries, if petted and indulged, quickly run into sickly sensibility, and become the bane of their life, keeping themselves and those about them in a state of chronic discomfort. The best corrective of this condition of mind is wholesome moral and mental dis- cipline. Mental strength is as necessary for the development of woman's character as of man's. It gives her capacity to deal with the affairs of life, and presence of mind, which enable her to act with vigor and effect in moments of emergency. Character in a woman; as in a man, will always be found the best safeguard of virtue, the best nurse of religion. Personal beauty soon passes ; but beauty of mind and character increases in attractiveness the older it grows. Heroic Women. The courage of woman is not the less true because it is for the most part passive. It is not encouraged by the cheers of the world, for it is mostly exhibited in the quiet recesses of private life. Yet there are cases of heroic patience and endurance on the part of women which occasionally come to the light of day. One of the most celebrated instances in his- tory is that of Gertrude Von der Wart. Her husband, falsely accused of being an accom- plice in the murder of Emperor Albert, was condemned to the most frightful of all pun- ishments — to be broken alive on the wheel. With the most profound conviction of her husband's innocence, the faithful woman stood by his side to the last, watching over hi.n during two days and nights, braving the empress's anger and the inclemency of the weather, in the hope of contributing to soothe his dying agonies. The sufferings of this noble woman, to- gether with those of her unfortunate husband, were touchingly described in a letter after- wards addressed by her to a female friend, which was published some years ago, entitled "Gertrude von der Wart; or, " Fidelity unto Death." Mrs. Hemans wrote the following poem of great pathos and beauty, commemo- rating the sad story : Gertrude. Her hands were clasped, her dark eyes raised, The breeze threw back her hair ; Up to the fearful wheel she gazed — All that she loved was there. The night was round her clear and cold, The holy heaven above ; Its pale stars watching to behold The night of earthly love. "And bid me not depart," she cried, " My Rudolph ! say not so ! This is no time to quit thy side — Peace, peace ! I cannot go. Hath the world aught for me to fear When death is on thy brow ? The world? — what means it? — ^mine is here-- I will not leave thee now ! " I have been with thee in thine hour O glory and of bliss. Doubt not its memory's living power To strengthen me through this ! And thou, mine honored love and true, Bear on, bear nobly on ! We have the blessed heaven in view, Whose rest shall soon be won. " And were not these high words to flow From woman's breaking heart ? Through all that night of bitterest woe She bore her lofty part ; But oh ! with such a freezing eye, With such a curdling cheek — Love, love ! of mortal agony. Thou, only thou, shouldst speak ! The winds rose high— but with them rose Her voice that he might hear ; — THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 281 Perchance that dark hour brought repose To happy bosoms near : While she sat striving with despair Beside his tortured form , And pouring her deep soul in prayer Forth on the rushing storm. She wiped the death damps from his brow, With her pale hands and soft, Whose touch upon the lute chords low Had stilled his heart so oft. She spread her mantle o'er his breast. She bathed his lips with dew, And on his cheek such kisses pressed As joy and hope ne'er knew. Oh ! lovely are ye, love and faith, Enduring to the last ! She had her meed — one smile in death — And his worn spirit passed, While even as o'er a martyr's grave She knelt on that sad spot And, weeping, blessed the God who gave Strength to forsake it not. Fewcia Dorothea Hemans. Although success is the prize for which all men toil, they have nevertheless often to labor on perseveringly, without any glimmer of success in sight. They have to live, mean- while, upon their courage — sowing their seed, it may be, in the dark, in the hope that it will yet take root and spring up in achieved result. The best of causes have had to fight their way to triumph through a long suc- cession of failures, and many of the assailants have died in the breach before the fortress has been won. The heroism they have dis- played is to be measured not so much by their immediate success, as by the opposition they have encountered, and the courage with which they have maintained the struggle. The patriot who fights an always-losing battle — the martyr who goes to death amidst the triumphant shouts of his enemies — the discoverer, like Columbus, whose heart re- mains undaunted through the bitter years of his "long wandering woe" — are examples of the morally sublime which excite a pro- founder interest in the hearts of men that even the most complete and conspicuous suc- cess. By the side of such instances as these, how small in comparison seem the greatest deeds of valor, inciting men to rush upon death and die amidst the frenzied excitement of physical warfare ! The pure, heart-searching doctrines which were preached by John Knox were then, as they are now, offensive to the wicked heart, and hence he was commanded by the volup- tuous court of Mary to desist. Knox, who knew no master and obeyed no mandate that was in opposition to God and his Bible, paid no attention to this command of the palace. Hearing immediately that her orders were disobeyed, the haughty Mary summoned the Scottish reformer into her presence. When Knox arrived he was ushered into the room in which were the queen and her attendant lords. On being questioned concerning his contumacy, he answered plainly that he preached nothing but truth, and that he dared not preach less. "But," answered one of the lords, " our commands must be obeyed on pain of death ; silence or the gal- lows must be the alternative." A Bold Reply. The spirit of Knox was roused by the dastardly insinuation that any human pun- ishment could make him desert the truth, and with that fearless, indescribable courage which disdains the pomp of language or of action, he firmly replied, "My lords, you are mistaken if you think you can intimidate me to do by threats what conscience and God tell me I never shall do; for be it known unto you that it is a matter of no importance to me, when I have finished my work, whether my bones shall bleach in the winds of heaven or rot in the bosom of the earth." 282 COURAGE. Knox having retired, one of the lords said to the queen, "We may let him alone, for we cannot punish that man." Well, there- fore, might it be said by a nobleman at the grave of John Knox, "Here lies one who never feared the face of man." But the greater part of the courage that is needed in the world is not of a heroic kind. Courage may be displayed in every- day life as well as in historic fields of action. There needs, for example, the common cour- age to be honest — the courage to resist temp- tation — the courage to speak the truth — the courage to be what we really are, and not to pretend to be what we are not — the courage to live honestly within our own means, and not dishonestly upon the means of others. Cannot say "No!" A great deal of the unhappiness, and much of the vice, of the world is owing to weakness and indecision of purpose — in other words, to lack of courage. Men may know what is right, and yet fail to exercise the courage to do it; they may understand the duty they have to do, but will not summon up the requisite resolution to perform it. The weak and undisciplined man is at the mercy of every temptation ; he cannot say " No," but falls before it. And if his companionship be bad, he will be all the easier led away by bad example into wrong-doing. Nothing can be more certain than that the character can only be sustained and strength- ened by its own energetic action. The will, which is the central force of character, must be trained to habits of decision — otherwise it will neither be able to resist evil nor to follow good. Decision gives the power of standing firmly, when to yield, however slightly, might be only the first step in a down-hill course to ruin. Many are the valiant purposes formed, that end merely in words ; deeds intended, that are never done ; designs projected, that are never begun ; and all for want of a little courageous decision. Better far the silent tongue but the eloquent deed. For in life and in business, dispatch is better than dis- course ; and the shortest answer of all is, doing. " In matters of great concern, and which must be done," says Tillotson, "there is no surer argument of a weak mind than irreso- lution — to be undetermined when the case is so plain and the necessity so urgent. To be always intending to live a new life, but never to find time to set about it — this is as if a man should put off eating and drinking and sleeping from one day to another, until he is starved and destroyed." Busy Mrs. Grundy. There needs also the exercise of no small degree of moral courage to resist the corrupt- ing influences of what is called " society." Although "Mrs. Grundy" may be a very vulgar and commonplace personage, her influence is nevertheless prodigious. Moit men, but especially women, are the moral slaves of the class or caste to which they belong. Each circle and section, each rank and class, has its respective customs and obser- vances, to which conformity is required at the risk of being tabooed. Some are im- mured within a bastile of fashion, others of custom, others of opinion ; and few there are who have the courage to think outside their sect, to act outside their party, and to step out into the free air of individual thought and action. We dress, and eat, and follow fashion, though it may be at the risk of debt, ruin, and misery ; living not so much according to our means as according to the supersti- THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 283 tious observances of our class. Though we may speak contemptuously of the Indians who flatten their heads, and of the Chinese who cramp their toes, we have only to look at the deformities of fashion among ourselves, to see that the reign of "Mrs. Grundy" is universal. But moral cowardice is exhibited quite as much in public as in private life. It is not the man of the noblest character — the highest- cultured and best-conditioned man — whose favor is now sought, so much as that of the lowest man, the least-cultured and worst- conditioned man, because of his vote. Even men of rank, wealth, and education are seen prostrating themselves before the ignorant, whose votes are thus to be got. They are ready to be unprincipled and unjust rather than unpopular. It is so much easier for some men to stoop, to bow, and to flatter, than to be manly, resolute, and magnanimous ; and to yield to prejudices, than run counter to them. It requires strength and courage to swim against the stream, while any dead fish can float with it. "If thou canst plan a noble deed, And never flag till it succeed, Thou in the strife thy heart should bleed, Whatever obstacles control, Thine hour will come — go on, true soul ! Thou'ltwin the prize, thou'lt reach the goal." It is the strong and courageous men who lead and guide and rule the world. The weak and timid leave no trace behind them; while the life of a single upright and ener- getic man is like a track of light. His ex- ample is remembered and appealed to ; and his thoughts, his spirit, and his courage con- tinue to be the inspiration of succeeding gen- erations. It is energy — the central element of which is will — that produces the miracles of enthu- siasm in all ages. Everywhere it is the main- spring of what is called force of character, and the sustaining power of all great action. In a righteous cause the determined man stands upon his courage as upon a granite block; and, like David, he will go forth to meet Goliath, strong in heart though a host be encamped against him. Courage, Brother! Courage, brother ! do not stumble. Though thy path be dark as night. There's a star to guide the humble ; " Trust in God and do the right. " Though the road be long and dreary, And the end be out of sight ; Foot it bravely, strong or weary, " Trust in God, and do the right." Perish policy and cunning ; Perish all that fears the light, . Whether losing, whether winning, " Trust in God, and do the right." Shun all forms of guilty passion. Fiends can look like angels bright. Heed no custom, school or fashion, "Trust in God, and do the right." Norman McLeod. 284 CHAPTER XVII. PATIENCE. N ounce of patience is worth a ton of fretfulness. Think it over and you will see that nothing can be done better by impa- tience than by its opposite. The horse that starts, jerks, backs up, frets and sweats and gets white with lather, is a poor horse for any kind of work. Put your hand on his warm neck. Speak gently to him. Quiet him down and make friends with him. If you could make him understand, you might tell him how much better that slow, moping, patient ox over the fence is than a horse that is restless and vixenish. Be calm under all vexations and trials. Storms beat down the flowers, hurricanes on the sea wreck ships, cyclones on land uproot trees, carry houses skyward and leave be- hind them destruction and death. It is during calm sunshine that harvests grow. Anybody can get into a rage; it requires more effort and shows a higher type of manhood and womanhood to be patient. Learn to wait, and be calm while you do it. The train stops, you get in a hurry, you storm and bluster, but that does not make the engine go. The man who can calmly wait is master of the situation. The writer of these lines when a boy thought he would like to have a peach-tree, one that he could call his own. He took a peach-stone one day and planted it on a sunny hillside. The next day he went and dug it up to see if it was growing. This went on for a week, and he was vexed and disappointed to find there was no tree. The poor peach-stone, dug up every day, had no chance to grow. The world is full of impatient people everlastingly digging up their work to see if it is growing. Macaulay says William, Prince of Orange, conceived the vast project of protecting Europe from Louis XIV. William had this great end ever before him. Toward that end he was impelled by a strong passion which appeared to him under the guise of a sacred duty. Toward that end he toiled with a patience resembling, as he once said, the patience with which he had once seen a boat- man on a canal strain against an adverse eddy, often swept back, but never ceasing to pull, and content if, by the labor of hours, a few yards could be gained. Exploits which brought the prince no nearer to his object, however glorious they might be in the esti- mation of the vulgar, were in his judgment boyish vanities, and no part of the real busi- ness of life. Toiling Years for Success. Look at Morse, discoverer of the tele- graph. The magnetic principle on which the invention depends had been known since 1774, but Professor Morse was the first to apply that principle for the benefit of men. He began his experiments in 1832, and five years afterward succeeded in obtaining a patent on his invention. Then followed another long delay ; and it was not until the 285 286 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. last day of the session in 1843 that he pro- cured from Congress an appropriation of ;^ 30,000. With that appropriation was con- structed, between Baltimore and Washington, the first telegraphic line in the world. Per- haps no other invention has exercised a more beneficent influence on the welfare of the human race. . Alexander, the Great, hazarded his person, by way of exercise for himself and example to others. But his friends, in the pride of wealth, were so devoted to luxury and ease that they considered long marches and cam- paigns as a burden, and by degrees came to murmur and speak ill of the king. At first he bore their censures with great moderation, and used to say there was something noble in hearing himself ill-spoken of while he was doing well. And so you learn that patience always belongs to great characters. Only little people are habitually impatient. They make a clatter; so does an empty cart. They cannot bear to be crossed. They must have everything their own way, and generally it is a very poor way. When they die their friends have a rest. A Modest Plant. There is a little plant that grows In almost every soil, If he who sows the seed bestows A little care and toil. Its stems no gorgeous blossoms show To captivate the eye, — Blossoms that greet the morning view, And ere the sunset die. Ah, no ! though plain as flowers can be, 'Twas planted here below. To keep the world in harmony. And aid to bear life's woe. Though needful as the constant food That daily want supplies, Like every other common good, We fail the plant to prize : — Till absence of it proves its worth. And discord holds its sway ; And crosses incident to earth. Grow heavier every day. We call it " Patience," kin to three That would redeem the fall. Blest Faith, and Hope, and Charity, We surely need them all ! Mary F. Van Dyck. In days of yore there lived in Chester, in the State of Pennsylvania, an old gentleman who kept a dry-goods store, and was remark- able for his imperturbable disposition, so much so that no one had ever seen him out of temper. This remarkable characteristic having become the subject of conversation, one of his neighbors, who was something of a wag, bet five dollars that he could succeed iu ruffling the habitual placidity of the stoic. A Cent's Worth of Cloth. He accordingly proceeded to his store, and asked to see some cloths suitable for a coat. One piece was shown to him, and then another; a third and a fourth were handed from the shelves : this was too coarse, the other was too fine ; one was of too dark a color, another too light; still the old Diogenes continued placid as new milk ; and no sooner did his customer start an objection to any particular piece, than he was met by some other variety being laid before him, until the very last piece in the shop was unfolded to his view. The vender now lost all hope of pleasing his fastidious purchaser, when the latter, affecting to look at the uppermost piece with satisfaction, exclaimed, "Ah, my dear sir, you have hit it at last ; this is the very thing ; I will take a cent's worth of the pat- tern," at the same time laying the money plump upon the counter before him, to show that he was prompt pay. 288 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. "You shall have it, my good friend," re- plied the merchant, with the utmost serious- ness of speech and manners; and then, laying the cent upon the surface of the cloth, and applying his ample scissors, he cut it fairly round to the very size of the money, and, wrapping it carefully in paper, made a low bow, thanked him for his custom, and hoped that he would call at his store when he wanted anything in his line again. The most beneficent operations of nature are the result of patience. The waters slowly deposit their rich alluvium ; the fruits are months in their growth and perfecting. A Saying of Buffon. To be wise we must diligently apply our- selves, and confront the same continuous application which our forefathers did ; for labor is still, and ever will be, the inevit- able price set upon everything which is valuable. We must be satisfied to work energetically with a purpose, and wait the results with patience. Buffon has even said of patience, that it is genius — the power of great men, in his opinion, consisting mainly in their power of continuous working and waiting. All progress, of the best kind, is slow ; but to him who works faithfully and in a right spirit, be sure that the reward will be vouchsafed in its own good time. "Courage and industry," says Granville Sharpe, " must have sunk in despair, and the world must have remained unimproved and unornamented, if men had merely com- pared the effect of a single stroke of the chisel with the pyramid to be raised, or of a single impression of the spade with the mountains to be leveled." We must con- tinuously apply ourselves to right pursuits, and we cannot fail to advance steadily, though it may be unconsciously. Hugh Miller modestly says, in his auto- biography : " The only merit to which I lay claim is that of patient research — a merit in which whoever wills may rival or surpass me ; and this humble faculty of patience, when rightly developed, may lead to more extraordinary developments of idea than even genius itself" Surely it is wise to learn the lesson of patience, as it will help us to see the bright side in everything that happens. Two gardeners had their crops of peas killed by the frost. One of them was very impatient under the loss, and fretted about it. The other patiently went to work to plant a new crop. After awhile the impa- tient man came to visit his neighbor. To his surprise he found another crop of peas growing finely. He asked how this could be. "This crop I sowed while you were fret- ting," said his neighbor. "But don't you ever fret?" he asked. "Yes, I do; but I put it off till I have repaired the mischief that has been done." " Why, then, you have no need to fret at all." "True," said his friend; "and that's the reason why I put it off." A Nervous Passenger. In one of the crowded eastern-bound trains on a western railroad, the patience of the passengers was very sorely tried by the loud and protracted cries of an infant, which appeared to be solely in charge of a man. After bearing with the disturbance some time, a nervous passenger protested against it, and demanded that the baby should be properly cared for or removed from the car. The protest drew from the gentleman who had it in charge the following explanation: " Ladies and gentlemen, I am very sorry that you have been so seriously incommoded by the cric^ of this child; but I beg of you PATIENCE. 28& to be patient, and I shall explain. It is an orphan; its mother has recently died, and I am taking it East to be cared for by its friends. The little thing is frightened, as the cars, its food, and the care it receives are strange to it. I shall do all in my power to make it comfortable and prevent further annoyance." The sympathies of the passengers were roused, and they not only showed a willing- ness to endure its cries, but raised a hand- some sum, by contribution, for its support. Forbearance and patience are divine at- tributes, and it is our duty to cultivate them under all circumstances. A good-humored acquiescence, and the disposition to make the best out of things that are unpleasant, is the true philosophy. The habitual grumbler and fault-finder will have ample opportunity to indulge his ill- natured inclinations while traveling; but such a person is a very disagreeable com- panion. Keep it in Stock. There is a better way. Always have a good stock of patience on hand. Keep your store-room filled with it. There is nothing you will want oftener, and nothing that will render you better service. Mothers ■especially want it. Their children often for- get that they are little angels. And mothers, too, forget sometimes and become very cross. "Mother," said a little girl, "does God •ever scold?" She had seen her mother, under circumstances of strong provocation, lose her temper and give way to the impulse of passion; and pondering thoughtfully for a moment she asked: "Mother, does God ever scold ? " The question was so abrupt and startling that it arrested the mother's attention almost with a shock, and she said : " Why, my child, what makes you ask such a question? " "Because, mother, you have always told me that God was good, and that we should try and be like him ; and I should like to know if he ever scolds." "No, my child ; of course not." "Well, I'm glad he doesn't, for scolding always hurts me, even if I feel I have done wrong ; and it doesn't seem to me that I could love God very much if he scolded." Speaking Hastily. The mother felt rebuked before her simple child. Never before had she heard so forci- ble a lecture on the evils of scolding. The words of the child sank deep in her heart, and she turned away from the innocent face of the little one to hide the tears that gath- ered to her eyes. Children are quick ob- servers ; and the child, seeing the effect of her words, eagerly inquired : "Wh}' do you cry, mother? Was it naughty for me to say what I said ? " " No, my child, it was all right. I was only thinking that I might have spoken more kindly, and not have hurt your feelings by speaking so hastily, and in anger, as I did." " Oh, mother, you are good and kind ; only I wish there were not so many bad things to make you fret and talk as you did just now. It makes me feel away from you, so far, as if I could not come near you, as I could when you speak kindly. And oh, sometimes I fear I shall be put off so far I can never get back again." " No, my child, don't say that," said the mother, unable to keep back her tears, as she felt how her tones had repelled her little one from her heart ; and the child, wonder- ing what so affected her parent, but intui- tively feeling it was a case requiring sympathy, reached up, and throwing her arms about her mother's neck, whispered : 290 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. "Mother, dear mother, do I make you cry? Do you love me ? " "O yes ! I love you more than I can tell," said the parent, clasping the little one to her bosom ; "and I will try never to scold again, but if I have to reprove my child I will try to do it, not in anger, but kindly, deeply as I may be grieved that she has done wrong." "01 am so glad. I can get so near to you if you don't scold. And do you know, mother, I want to love you so much, and I will try always to be good." The lesson was one that deeply moved that mother's heart, and has been an aid to her for many a year. It impressed the great principle of reproving in kindness, not in anger, if we would gain the great end of reproof — the great end of winning the child, at the same time, to what is right, and to the parent's heart. The Angel of Patience. To cheer, to help us, children of the dust, More than one angel has Our Father given ; But one alone is faithful to her trust, The best, the brightest exile out of heaven. Her ways are not the ways of pleasantness ; Her paths are not the lightsome paths of joy ; She walks with wrongs that cannot find redress, And dwells in mansions Time and Death destroy. She waits until her stem precursor. Care, Has lodged on foreheads, open as the mom. To plough his deep, besieging trenches there — The signs of struggles which the heart has borne. But when the first cloud darkens in our sky. And face to face with Life we stand alone, Silent and swift, behold ! she draweth nigh, And mutely makes our sufferings her own. Unto rebellious souls, that, mad with fate. To question God's eternal justice dare, She points above with looks that whisper, " Wait — What seems confusion here is wisdom there," Daughter of God ! who walkest with us here. Who mak'st our every tribulation thine. Such light hast thou in Earth's dim atmosphere. How must thy seat in heaven exalted shine ! Bayard Tayi^oe.. I'll 'Wait Awhile Longer. I'll wait awhile longer Before I despair ; Before I sink under My burden of care. Night cannot last always — There must be a morn ; So I'll wait for the daylight, And watch for the dawn. I'll wait awhile longer ; To-morrow may be The brightest and fairest Of morrows to me. The birds may be singing, The blossoms may start In bloom and in beauty : Be patient, O heart ! I'll wait awhile longer Before I g^ve up ; I'll drink, if it may be. The dregs from the cup. Still watching, still hoping. Still longing for day, I'll wait awhile longer. And waiting, I'll pray. See what patient industry can accomplish Here are a few examples. A few years ago there was a young mechanic in a machine shop in New Haven,. Connecticut. There came a business de- pression and the men were thrown out of work. This young man went to his em- ployers, told them he could not afford to be idle, and asked permission to go to the shop and make lathes. He would patiently wait for the time to come when they could be sold and would ask only a reasonable com- mission on his work. The employers were pleased at such ai suggestion as this, and let the young me- chanic have his way. So while his old, shopmates were loitering around he every morning was seen going to the shop, his tin dinner pail in his hand, and some of them reviled him for working on trust. When the good times came the lathes that PATIENCE. 291 he had builded were sold, he received cash for his time and a percentage, so that he found himself possessed of about a thousand dollars, enough to pay the tradesmen what he owed and to leave a little surplus for the bank. A capitalist had seen this mechanic going to work in those dismal times, and being interested made inquiry about him, and when the employers told this capitalist his story, he scvught out the mechanic and offered to lend him a little money to go into the manufactur- ing business himself Thus he became his own employer and the employer of a few hands, the number of which was increased from year to year until by and by he had as many as a thousand working for him. Elected Mayor. The qualities that had prevailed in his favor as a workingman and as an employer of labor brought to him the respect of the community, so that by and by he was named as the candidate of one of the parties for Mayor and was elected, although the oppos- ing party usually prevailed in that city by as much as a majority of three thousand. Then again his party named him as its candidate for Governor, and thus twenty-five years after he was a mechanic swinging his tin dinner pail upon the streets he became Governor of Connecticut. That was the way that patient industry served one who began as a humble workingman, the late Governor Hobart B. Bigelow. Years ago, when the Erie Railroad was more conspicuous among the railroad sys- tems of the country than it is now, a young man was employed at a way station in a really menial capacity. But he did his work well, so that he received some slight promotion. Thus little by little he was promoted until he had some charge of the local freight traffic. He did not give grudgingly of his time, but even in his leisure studied how to improve that business for the benefit of the company. So that it happened by and by that the eyes of his employers were fixed with interest upon him and he received greater promotion. In his new field he ran against Commodore Vanderbilt, or perhaps the old Commodore ran against him, and in that way he was brought into the service of the New York Central, receiving a considerable salary, and then again was promoted until at last he had charge of its entire freight traffic, and with a salary of ;^ 1 5 ,ooo a year. But that was not all. When William H. Vanderbilt gave up the presidency of the New York Central system this man, who had once been a switchman at a way station, became his successor, and thus the career of the late James H. Rutter, president of the New York Central, reveals that there is truth in the statement of those who assert that opportunity is open to every man in this country according to his ability, his purpose and his patient industry. Beginning Life in Poverty. It is believed to be a safe estimate that a very large majority of the merchants in New York city and in other cities, who are not only successful but pre-eminently successful, began life practically without a dollar. Of course, there are some old houses, the tradi- tions, possessions and business of which have descended from father to son. But these are the exceptions even in New York. The greater retail business houses were in nearly every case established by young men who had scarcely any capital excepting industry, health and ambition. It is said of the pro- prietors of the great houses in New York, Philadelphia, St. Louis, Cincinnati, Chicago 292 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. and other towns, that nearly all of them began life without a dollar. Stewart was a poor immigrant when he came to this country. Macy, who accumu- lated millions before his death, began his business life in New York upon a credit of a few thousand dollars, and in many cases of the establishment of partnerships with these successful merchants, these relations were made with those who had worked their way up by the hardest kind of toil from subor- dinate and often menial places. Marshall Jewell, Governor of Connecticut, Postmaster General, Minister to Russia, capi- talist and the employer of labor, began his life as an apprentice at the tanner's vats. As a journeyman tanner he worked day after day over hours, and steeping his arms in the chemicals employed for tanning pur- poses, he was unable to sleep at night unless his arms were bare, and that habit he retained until the day of his death. These examples show what can be accom- plished by patient continuance in well doing. Suppose these men had tried the short cut to fame and fortune ; we would never have heard of them. They knew how to work and wait. A Patient Mother. " I remember," says John Wesley, " hear- ing my father say to my mother, 'How could you have the patience to tell that blockhead the same thing twenty times over?' 'Why,' said she, 'if I had told him but nine- teen times, I should have lost all my labor.' " The world was created during epochs of time. Rome was not built in a day. You did not grow to man's stature over night. There is seed-time and afterward harvest. Do not think that everything can come at once. Possess your soul in patience. Do not expect impossibilities, but simply the possible, for which proper efforts have been made. Patience is not in conflict with enthusiasm. The one is co-partner with the other. Neither will get far without the other. Together they are invincible. Most of us have had troubles all our lives, and each day has brought more evil than we wished to endure. But if we were asked to recount the sorrows of our lives, how many could we remember? How many that are six months old should we think worthy to be remembered or mentioned? To-day's troubles look large, but a week hence they will be forgotten and buried out of sight. Making Troubles of Trifles. If you would keep a book, and every day put down the things that worry you, and see what becomes of them, it would be a benefit to you. You allow a thing to annoy you, just as you allow a fly to settle on you and plague you ; and you lose your temper (or rather get it; for when men are sur- charged with temper they are said to have lost it) ; and you justify yourselves for being thrown off your balance by causes which you do not trace out. But if you would see what it was that threw you off your balance before breakfast, and put it down in a little book, and follow it out, and ascertain what becomes of it, you would see what a fool you were in the matter. The art of forgetting is a blessed art, but the art of overlooking is quite as important. And if we should take time to write down the origin, the progress, and outcome of a few of our troubles, it would make us so ashamed of the fuss we make over them, that we should be glad to drop such things and bury them at once in eternal forgetful- ness. Life is too short to be worn out in petty worries, frettings, hatreds, and vexa- PATIENCE. 293 tions. Let us think only on whatsoever things are pure, and lovely, and gentle, and of good report. W^orking and "Waiting. A husbandman who many years Had ploughed his field and sown in tears, Grew weary with his doubts and fears : "I toil in vain ! these rocks and sands Will yield no harvest to my hands, The best seeds rot in barren lands. My drooping vine is withering ; No promised grapes its blossoms bring ; No birds among the branches sing ; My flock is dying on the plain ; The heavens are brass — they yield no rain ; The earth is iron, — I toil in vain ! " While yet he spake, a breath had stirred His drooping vine, like wing of bird. And from its leaves a voice he heard: "The germs and fruits of life must be Forever hid in mystery. Yet none can toil in vain for Me. A mightier hand, more skilled than thine, Must hang the clusters on the vine. And make the fields with harvest shine. Man can but work ; God can create : But they who work, and watch, and wait, Have their reward, though it come late. Look up to heaven ! behold, and hear The clouds and thunderings in thy ear — An answer to thy doubts and fear." He looked, and lo ! a cloud-draped car, With trailing smoke and flames afar, Was rushing from a distant star ; And every thirsty flock and plain Was rising up to meet the rain, That came to clothe the fields with grain ; And on the clouds he saw again, The covenant of God with men. Rewritten with his rainbow pen : "Seed-time and harvest shall not fail. And though the gates of hell assail. My truth and promise shall prevail ! " Understanding something of God's un- conquerable patience, we shall have patience with men that nothing can overcome. See- ing how his rain and sunshine are freely given to the evil and unthankful, we learn to measure our giving not by men's deserts but by their needs. As it grows upon us that the whole vast system of nature and providence, is regulated in every part by the one central force of love, we learn to make the same force central and sovereign: in our lives. Patience is the guardian of faith, the pre- server of peace, the cherisher of love, the teacher of humility. Patience governs the flesh, strengthens the spirit, stifles anger, ex- tinguishes envy, subdues pride ; she bridles- the tongue, refrains the hand, tramples upoa temptations, endures persecutions, consum- mates martyrdom. Patience produces unity in the church, loyalty in the state, harmony in families and societies; she comforts the poor and moderates the rich; she makes us humble in prosperity, cheerful in adversity, unmoved by calumny and reproach ; she teaches us to forgive those who have injured us, and to be first in asking forgiveness of those whom we have injured; she delights the faithful, and invites the unbelieving ; she adorns the woman, and improves the man; is loved in a child, praised in a young man, admired in an old man ; she is beautiful in either sex and every age. Recipe for Peace of Mind. The great remedy which heaven has put in our hands is patience, by which, though we cannot lessen the torments of the body, we can in a great measure preserve the peace of the mind, and shall suffer only the natural and genuine force of an evil, without height- ening its acrimony or prolonging its effects. The chief security against the fruitless anguish of impatience must arise from fre- quent reflection on the wisdom and goodness of the God of nature, in whose hands are riches and poverty, honor and disgrace, pleasure and pain, and life and death. A settled conviction of the tendency of every- i 294 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. thing to our good, and of the possibility of turning miseries into happiness, by receiving them rightly, will incline us to bless the name ■of the Lord whether he gives or takes away. But what a lovely sight it is to behold a , person burdened with many sorrows, and 'perhaps his flesh upon him has pain and anguish, while his soul mourns within him : yet his passions are calm, he possesses his spirit in patience, he takes kindly all the re- lief that his friends attempt to afford him, nor does he give them any grief or uneasiness but what they feel through the force of mere sympathy and compassion! Thus, even in the midst of calamities, he knits the hearts of his friends faster to himself, and lays greater obligations upon their love by so lovely and divine a conduct under the weight of his heavy sorrows. Conquer Yourself. Be patient with your friends. They are neither omniscient nor omnipotent. They cannot see your heart, and may misunder- stand you. They do not know what is best for you, and may select what is worst. Their arms are short, and may not be able to reach what you ask. What if also they lack purity of purpose or tenacity of affection ; do not you also lack these graces? Patience is your refuge. Endure, and in enduring conquer them, and if not them, then at least yourself Above all, be patient with your beloved. Love is the best thing on the earth, but it is to be handled tenderly, and impatience is a nurse that kills it. It has been contended by high authority, " that few men die of age, and that almost all are victims of disappointment, passional, ^iOr mental, or bodily toil, or of accident." 'This may not be true to the full extent, but it is measurably so. A large portion of mankind wear themselves out by unneces- sary excitement. They fret, fume and vex, and absolutely shorten their days. They strain the human machine, until its cords snap and break. They overtask the intel- lectual faculties, until at last they falter and fail. And thus it is that moral suicide is committed. Feverish Impatience. The study of life, and the best means of prolonging it, are not sufficiently attended to. A large portion of the human family are too impulsive. They are nervous, rest- less, feverish, and excited. They cannot wait for the ordinary progress of events. They rush on recklessly and impatiently, become anxious and eager, and thus they lose, not only the balance of mind, but the absolute control of the physical man. This is especially the case in this country, and hence, as compared with some portions of the old world, our average duration of life is quite Hmited. Thousands, we repeat, perish every year, through feverish anxiety and unnecessary excitement. They are not disposed to be calm, patient, and resolute, and to pursue an even and correct course ; but they seek to accomplish a certain end by a sudden movement. They are not satisfied with ascending the ladder of fame or fortune, step by step, but bound upward, three or four rounds at a time, and thus they often lose their grasp or foothold, and are dashed to the earth. We overtask our strength, assume fearful responsibilities, and nurse consuming anxieties. Many fancy that they must be here, there and everywhere, that no work can get on without them, that their counsel, their efforts, and their direct inter- ference, are absolutely essential. And thus they toil on from day to day, and from year to year, until at last the delu- sion and the error are dispelled, by realizing PATIENCE. 295 the startling fact, that they too are fallible, and that the physical or mental man has given way, before unnecessarily assumed responsibilities and anxieties. Then comes the hour of self-reproach, of regret and peni- tence. But, alas ! who shall bring back the rosy hue of health to the cheek of the con- sumptive, impart fresh strength to the totter- ing step of premature age, or re-illumine the flickering and fading light of intellect ? Be patient with your pains and cares. We know it is easy to say and hard to do. But you must be patient. These things are killed by enduring them, and made strong to bite and sting by feeding them with frets and fears. There is no pain or care that can last long. None of them shall enter the city of God. A little while and you shall leave behind you the whole troop of howling troubles, and forget in your first sweet hour of rest that such things were on earth. Never lose your confidence that matters will come right in the end. The world is governed better than any of us could govern it. If we wait and labor, we cannot suffer beyond remedy. As at their work two weavers sat, Beguiling time with a friendly chat, They touched upon the price of meat, So high, a weaver scarce could eat. THE TWO WEAVERS. For where's the middle? where's the border? Thy carpet now is all disorder." " What with my brats and sickly wife," Quoth Dick, "I'm almost tired of life ; So hard my work, so poor my fare, 'Tis more than mortal man can bear. " How glorious is the rich man's state ! His bouse so fine, his wealth so great ! Heaven is unjust, you must agree ; Why all to him ? Why none to me ? *'In spite of what the Scripture teaches, In spite of all the parson preaches, This world (indeed I've thought so long) Is ruled, methinks, extremely wrong. "Where'er I look, howe'er I range, 'Tis all confused and hard and strange ; The good are troubled and oppressed, And all the wicked are the blessed." <2uoth John, " Our ignorance is the cause Why thus we blame our Maker's laws ; Parts of His ways alone we know ; 'Tis all that man can see below. " See'st thou that carpet, not half done. Which thou, dear Dick, hast well begun ? Behold the wild confusion there. So rude the mass it makes one stare ! " A stranger, ignorant of the trade. Would say, no meaning's there conveyed; Quoth Dick, ' ' My work is yet in bits. But still in every part it fits ; Besides, you reason like a lout — Why man, that carpet's inside out." Says John, "Thou say'st the thing I mean. And now I hope to cure thy spleen ; This world, which clouds thy soul with doubt. Is but a carpet inside out. "As when we view these shreds and ends. We know not what the whole intends ; So, when on earth, things look but odd, They're working still some scheme of God, " No plan, no pattern, can we trace ; All wants proportion, truth, and grace ; The motley mixture we deride, Nor see the beauteous upper side. ' ' But when we reach that world of light. And view those works of God aright, Then shall we see the whole design, And own the Workman is Divine. " What now seem random strokes, will there All order and design appear ; Then shall we praise what here we spurned, For then the carpet shall be turned." "Thou'rt right," quoth Dick ; " nomore I'll grumble That this sad world's so strange a jumble • My impious doubts are put to flight. For my own carpet sets me right." Hannah Mors. THE LAST HOPE. 296 CHAPTBR XVIII. HOPE. EN sentenced to imprison- I . ™p)p^ ■ y ment for life seldom give 'PlWmW.lW '^ up the hope of some day- procuring their liberty. This is observed by the wardens of all our prisons. By a reprieve through the intercessions of friends, or by a lucky escape, such prisoners flatter themselves that they will leave the prison bars behind them. And this hope sustains them, makes them comparatively cheerful, enables them to do their work without com- plaint, and submit peacefully to discipline. Without hope they would soon grow sullen, give way to despair, become desperate and would attempt self-destruction. How true it is that " hope springs eternal in the human breast." It is the friend of the weary, the disconsolate, the sorrowing. " Hope on, hope ever," is the charmer that brings rest to the feverish pillow, comfort to the , stricken heart, strength to the fainting toiler, and turns shadows into sunshine. Hope is an angel. Her eyes are bright as morning. Her lips smile and her face glows. Her step has the spring of yoiith. She bounds like the swift gazelle. There is sweeter music in her voice than that of any Patti who charms thousands with bird-like melodies. She is never weary and shadows never darken her brow. She has the fresh- ness of early dew about her; her movements are nimble and she plays as young lambs skip in the green pastures. When we are downcast she comes with k good cheer. Like charity, she never faileth. No sickness can alarm her. No night caa make her timid. Tears only draw her nearer. Misfortune has no terrors for her. She is the friend of the rich and poor. She dawns on every eye, crosses every path,, holds out her hand to every sufferer, paints victory on every cloud. Her triumphs are grander than those of generals. She does not halt ; mountains are plains to her. She nerves the shrinking heart and fires the lan- guid spirit. Hope paints her palace on the hilltop and' from its beaming turrets gleams a light that kindles every eye. We press toward the open gates. Through winding passages and. thick shadows we still see the glory a little- beyond. We droop in sorrow, but, lifting our eyes, the tears dry. The winter flees away ; the summer comes and the singing of birds. When You May Hope. But there must be some foundation for hope, and there must be action too. You must be wide-awake, up and doing, your foot forward, your eye keen, your valor aroused, your nerves taut, your "face set like a flint," your powers called into action. Then you have good reason to hope. There are people who hope, but they are doing this kind of business on an amount of capital that would not start a boot-black or set up a peanut stand. It is all sand under them, nothing soHd. They can hope on nothing. Idle, lazy, dull, shiftless, they are 297 -298 HOPE. hoping " something will turn up," but it never does and never will, until they go and turn it up for themselves. And so they ■drag on year after year, and the end of every year finds them no farther along than the last one did. They do nothing but hope, and that is the poorest-paying business any mortal ever got into. Sell it out, give it away, get rid of it somehow. There is noth- ing in it but disappointment. How many men have tried to invent a perpetual motion, and all the time have been hoping to succeed. One man in Georgia spent thirty years at this kind of nonsense ; the only perpetual motion he discovered was a hope never realized. If such visionaries only knew that a perpetual motion is con- trary to the laws of nature, they would suddenly part with a false expectation, and perhaps be of some use in the world. They will succeed when the laws of God forget themselves and cease to operate. And there are multitudes of hopes that are founded on a lack of knowledge, and are therefore delu- sive. Tired of the Old Farm. For this reason hope does not have a fair chance. It is not realized simply because immutable laws are against it. If we were wiser, we would hope better. Here is a young man who hopes to get rich. He is tired of work on the old farm. It is the same old humdrum. He is soft-skinned; his hands have a way of blistering every time he does any work. It is dull business, this holding a plow and sawing wood. He has read of men who speculated, started with nothing, got rich, bought railroads, owned yachts, kept fast horses, lived in style, wore a new neck-tie every day. Their patent leathers are very different from his old cow- hide boots, and he is not going to stand it. He will be as rich as they some day; he has no doubt about it. Yet, what has he to build this hope upon ? He has no capital, no experience, no knowledge of business, no tact, perhaps very little natural ability. This is not saying that there should be no ambition or determination to rise in the world. It is saying that a young man should be hard-headed, should have com- mon sense, undertake only what he can carry out, and base his expectations on facts. I knew a man who thought he had constructed a flying-machine. He was going to fly. He climbed to the top of the barn and tried it. It is worthy of remark that after he recovered from a cracked skull and a few broken bones he did not try it again. Fulton and his Steamboat. And so history is, to a large extent, the record of disappointments. In 1803 the first steamboat of Livingston and Fulton was built in France upon the Seine. When she was almost ready for the experimental trip a misfortune befell her which would have dampened the ardor of a man less determined than Fulton. Rising one morn- ing, after a sleepless night, a messenger from the boat, with horror and despair written upon his countenance, burst into his pres- ence, exclaiming : " O, sir ! the boat has broken in pieces and gone to the bottom!" For a moment Fulton was utterly over- whelmed. Never in his whole life, he used to say, was he so near despairing as then. Hastening to the river, he found, indeed, that the weight of the machinery had broken the framework of the vessel, and she lay on the bottom of the river, in plain sight, a mass of timber and iron. Instantly, with his own hands, he began the work of raising her, and kept at it, without food or rest, for twenty- four hours — an exertion which permanently THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 299 -injured his health. His death in the prime -of life was, in all probability, remotely caused "by the excitement, exposure, and toil of that terrible day and night. Washington Irving in his "Life of Colum- bus" relates that on one occasion the great navigator w^as sorely disappointed. While Columbus, his pilot, and several of his ex- perienced mariners were studying the map, -and endeavoring to make out from it their actual position, they heard a shout from the Pinta, and looking up, beheld Martin Alonzo Pinzon mounted on the stem of his vessel -crying, "Land! land! Sehor, I claim my reward ! " He pointed at the same time to "the southwest, where there was indeed an .appearance of land at about twenty-five .leagues' distance. Nothing but a Cloud. Upon this Columbus threw himself on his knees and returned thanks to God ; and Martin Alonzo repeated the Gloria in excelsis, in which he was joined by his own crew and that of the admiral. The seamen now mounted to the masthead or climbed about the rigging, straining their eyes in the direc- ~tion pointed out. The morning light, how- • ever, put an end to all their hopes, as to a dream. The fancied land proved to be nothing but an evening cloud, and had vanished in the night. It is not certain, however, that the disap- pointments of to-day will not give place to realized hope to-morrow. Columbus was : not discouraged ; in fact nothing could turn him back, and hope had its final reward. When Cicero stood for the praetorship he had many competitors who were persons of distinction, and yet he was returned first. As a president in the courts of justice he acted with great integrity and honor. Li- -cinius Macer, who had great interest of his own, and was supported, beside, with that of Crassus, was accused before him of some default with respect to money. He had so much confidence in his own influence and the activity of his friends, that when the judges were going to decide the cause, it is said he went home, cut his hair, and put on a white habit, as if he had gained the victory, and was about to return so equipped to the forum. But Crassus met him in his court- yard, and told him that all the judges had given a verdict against him ; which affected him in such a manner that he turned in again, took to his bed, and died. King Richard's Crusade. Richard I, king of England, was called the Lion Hearted on account of his prowess and bold enterprises. He was the leader of the third Crusade which had for its object the recovery of the Holy Land from the Mohammedans. The English monarch went on from victory to victory. The most re- markable of his battles was that near to Ascalon, where he engaged and defeated Saladin, king of Jerusalem, the most re- nowned of the Saracen monarchs, and left 40,000 of the enemy dead on the field. Ascalon surrendered, as did several other cities, to the victorious Richard, who now prepared for the siege of Jerusalem, the capture of which was the object of this great enterprise; but at the most import- ant crisis, which if fortunate — as everything seemed to promise — would have terminated the expedition in the most glorious manner, the king of England, on a review of his army, found them so wasted with famine, with fatigue, and even with victory, that with the utmost mortification of heart he was obliged to entirely abandon the enter- prise. The war was finished by a truce with Saladin. iM wi «f': « KING RICHARD LANDING AT JAFFA TO RECOVER THE HOLY LAND. 300 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 301 That is good advice which some one gives: no man ought ever to settle an important question when he is discouraged or de- pressed; he ought to recognize such a condition as something abnormal and un- healthful — a condition which makes wise judgment and right action impossible. If we learn to treat our times of depression and discouragement as symptoms of disease, and avoid deciding or acting when they are upon us — to look at them as something apart from our best and truest selves — we shall avoid the mistakes into which they wiU lead us, and we shall do much to overcome them. But it must be confessed that many times in life there are many things which make the torch of hope burn dimly and seem some- times to almost put it out. There are flares and draughts and doubtful places which every one must pass through. Ashes of Disappointment, There are burdens heavy to be borne ; and longings steadily unmet ; and ghosts of fears which threaten to change from ghosts to verities; and perplexities to dis- tract; and all the time the tense, hard struggle with the evil in one's self; and prayers which seem unanswered; and the reaction from heavy strains of work; and sometimes the bitter humdrum of the daily duty; and the frequent consciousness of failure; and heaps of ashes of disappoint- ment; and the wakeful hours in the middle of the night, when troubles take on exag- gerated shape and gesture; and often unin- tentional deeds and words of friends, which to you seem to have the sharpest edges, cut to the quick; and the problems of expe- rience; and the mystery of life around; and the denser mystery of death ahead, into which every one of us must pass, a lonely pilgrim ; — there are these things, and other things like them almost innu- merable. And amidst them all, our hopes, like the lamp of the foolish virgins in the parable, seem often smouldering out, if, indeed, they have not gone out entirely. But still we must have hope. The hopeless soul is the defeated soul. Some unfailing oil for the lamp of hope — that is the direst necessity sometimes, at least, for every one of us. Characteristics of Hope. What is hope ? The beauteous sun, Which colors all it shines upon ! The beacon of life's dreary sea ; The star of immortality ! Fountain of feeling, young and warm, A day-beam bursting through the storm ! A tone of melody, whose birth Is, oh ! too sweet, too pure, for earth ! A blossom of that radiant tree Whose fruit the angels only see ! A beauty, and a charm, whose power Is seen, enjoyed, confessed, each hour ! A portion of that world to come When earth and ocean meet — the last o'erwhelming doom. Charles Swain. Influence of Hope. Auspicious hope ! in thy sweet garden grow Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every woe ; Won by their sweets, in Nature's languid hour ; The way-worn pilgrim seeks thy summer bower ; There as the wild bee murmurs on the wing What peaceful dreams thy handmaid spirits bring ; What viewless forms the iGolian organs play, And sweep the furrowed lines of anxious thought away. Thomas Campbell. Says Charles Dickens : " There is nothing — no, nothing — beautiful and good that dies and is forgotten. An infant, a prattling child, dying in its cradle, will live again in the better thoughts of those who loved it, and play its part, though its body be burned to ashes or drowned in the deepest sea. There 302 HOPE. 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 good deeds of human creatures could be traced to their source, how beautiful would even death appear ! for how much charity, I mercy, and purified affection would be seen to have their growth in dusty graves. Longfellow says : " The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun. The brightness of our life is gone, shadows of the evening fall around us, and the world seems but a dim reflection itself — a broader shadow. We look forward into the coming lonely night ; the soul withdraws itself. Then stars arise, and the night is holy." Happy is the man who has that in his soul which acts upon the dejected as April air upon violet roots. Gifts from the hand are silver and gold, but the heart gives that which neither silver nor gold can buy. To be full of goodness, full of cheerfulness, full of sympathy, full of helpful hope, causes a man to carry blessings of which he himself is as unconscious as a lamp is of its own shining. Such an one moves on human life as stars move on dark seas to bewildered mariners ; as the sun wheels, bringing all the seasons with him from the south. Immortal Hope. Hope humbly, then, with trembling pinions soar, Wait the great teacher, death ; and God adore. What's future bliss. He gives not thee to know, But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. Hope springs eternal in the human breast ; Man never is, but always to be blest : The soul uneasy and confined from hotae. Rests and expatiates in a life to come. Alexander Popb. Faith and Hope. Fountain of song, its prayer begins and ends, Hope is the wing by which the soul ascends ; Some may allege I wander from the path. And give to hope the proper rights of faith ; Like love and friendship, these, a comely pair, What's done by one, the other has a share : When heat is felt, we judge that fire is near, Hope's twilight comes — faith's day will soon appear. Thus when the Christian's contest doth begin, Hope fights with doubts, till faith's reserves come in : Hope comes desiring and expects relief ; Faith follows, and peace springs from firm belief. Hope balances occurrences of time ; Faith will not stop till it has reached the prime. Just like co-partners in joint stock of trade, What one contracts is by the other paid. Make use of hope thy laboring soul to cheer. Faith shall be giv'n if thou wilt persevere. We see all things alike with either eye. So faith and hope the self-same object spy. But what is hope? or where or how begun ? It comes from God, as light comes from the sun. Thomas Hogo. The old philosopher Diogenes says hope is the last thing that dies in man. The poet Hesiod tells us that the miseries of all mankind were included in a great box, and that Pandora took off the lid of it, by which means all of them came abroad, and hope only remained. Hope is the truest friend and remains with us until the last, Hope frequents the poor man's hut as well as the palace of the rich. Gifts Made by Alexander. Before Alexander set out on his expedition against the Persians he settled the affairs of Macedon, over which he appointed Antipater as viceroy, with 12,000 foot, and nearly the same number of horse. He also inquired into the domestic affairs of his friends, giving to one an estate in land, to another a village, to a third the revenues of a town, to a fourth the toll of a harbor. And as all his revenues were already employed and exhausted by his donations, Perdiccas said to him, " My lord, I what is it you reserve for yourself?" Alex- ander replying, " Hope," " The same hope," says Perdiccas, "ought therefore to satisfy THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 303-. I us," and very generously refused to accept of what the king had assigned to him. Chiefest of blessings is hope, the most common of possessions ; for, as Thales, the philosopher said, " Even those who have nothing else have hope." Hope is the great helper of the poor. It has even been styled " the poor man's bread." It is also the sus- tainer and inspirer of great deeds. The pleasures of memory, however great, are stale compared with those of hope ; for hope is the parent of all effort and endeavor) and every gift of noble origin is breathed upon by hope's perpetual breath. It may be said to be the moral engine that moves the world and keeps it in action ; and at the end of all there stands before us what Rob- ertson styled " the great hope." " If it were not for hope," said Byron, "where would the future be? — in hell! It is useless to say where the present is, for most of us know ; and as for the past, what predominates in memory? — Hope baffled. Therefore, in all human affairs, it is hope, hope, hope!" Hope's Promise. Sometimes when I am sore cast down. And labor seems in vain, in vain, Hope sings to me this silver strain, "He who endures shal. wear a crown ! " Sometimes, when I would flee the frown Of adverse fate that frights my soul, Hope whispers, pointing to the goal, " He who endures shall wear a crown ! " Sometimes when I am weary grown. And baffled by the foes I meet, Hope spurs me with this promise sweet, ' ' He who endures shall wear a crown ! ' ' Susie M. Best. Every man is sufficiently discontented with some circumstances of his present state, to suffer his imagination to range more or less in quest of future happiness, and to fix upon some point of time, in which, by the removal of the inconvenience which now perplexes him, or acquisition of the advantages which he at present wants, he shall find the condi- tion of his life very much improved. When this time, which is too often ex- pected with great impatience, at last arrives,, it generally comes without the blessing for which it was desired; but we solace our- selves with some new prospect, and press, forward again with equal eagerness. It is lucky for a man, in whom this temper prevails, when he turns his hopes upon things wholly out of his own power; since he for- bears then to precipitate his affairs, for the sake of the great event that is to complete his felicity, and waits for the blissful hour with less neglect of the measures necessary- to be taken in the meantime. A Light in all Dark Places. Hope is necessary in every condition. The- miseries of poverty, of sickness, or captivity, would, without this comfort, be insupporta- ble; nor does it appear that the happiest lot of terrestrial existence can set us above the want of this general blessing; or that life, when the gifts of nature and of fortune are accumulated upon it, would not still be wretched, were it not elevated and delighted by the expectation of some new possession, of some enjoyment yet behind, by which the wish shall be at last satisfied, and the heart filled up to its utmost extent. Hope is, indeed, very fallacious, and promises what it seldom gives; but its. promises are more valuable than the gifts of fortune, and it seldom frustrates us with- out assuring us of recompensing the delay by a greater bounty. Disappointment seldom cures us of ex- pectation, or has any other effect than that of producing a moral sentence or peevish exclamation. THE SURE AND STEADFAST ANCHOR. THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 505 We ''rise on stepping stones of our dead selves to higher things." No one soul is so obscure that God does not take thought for its schooling. The sun is the central light of the universe, but it has a mission to the ripening corn and the purpling clusters of the vine. The sunshine that comes filtering through the morning mists, with healing in its wings, and charms all the birds to sing- ing, should have also a message from God to sad hearts. No soul is so grief-laden that it may not be lifted to sources of heavenly comfort by recognizing the divine love in the perpetual recurrence of earthly blessings : " The night is mother of the day. The -winter of the spring ; And even upon old decay The greenest mosses cling. Behind the cloud the star-light lurks ; Through showers the sunbeams fall ; For God, who loveth all his works. Hath left his hope with all." The man who carries a lantern in a dark night can have friends all around him, walk- ing safely by the help of its rays, and be not defrauded. So he who has the God-given light of hope in his breast can help on many others in this world's darkness, not to his own loss, but to their precious gain. Steadfast Hope. Hope sets the stamp of vanity on all That men have deemed substantial since the fall. Yet has the wondrous virtue to educe From emptiness itself a real use ; And while she takes, as at a father's hand, What health and sober appetite demand, From fading good derives, with chemic art, The lasting happiness, a thankful heart. Hope, with uplifted foot, set free from earth, Pants for the place of her ethereal birth, On steady wings sails through the immense abyss, Plucks amaranthine joys from bowers of bliss, And crowns the soul, while yet a mourner here. With wreaths like those triumphant spirits wear. Hope, as an anchor firm and sure, holds fast The Christian vessel, and defies the blast. Hope ! nothing else can nourish and secure His new-born virtues, and preserve him pure. Hope ! let the wretch, once conscious of the joy. Whom now despairing agonies destroy, Speak — for he can, and none so well as he — What treasures centre, what delights in thee. Had he the gems, the spices, and the land That boasts the treasure, all at his command ; The fragrant grove, the inestimable mine. Were light, when viewed against one smile of thine. William Cowper. Our actual enjoyments are so few and transient that man would be a very misera- ble being were he not endowed with this passion, which gives him a taste of those good things that may possibly come into his possession. "We should hope for every- thing that is good," says the old poet Linus, "because there is nothing which may not be hoped for, and nothing but what the gods are able to give us." Hope quickens all the still parts of life, and keeps the mind awake in her most remiss and indolent hours. It gives habitual serenity and good humor. It is a kind of vital heat in the soul, that cheers and gladdens her, when she does not attend to it. It makes pain easy, and labor pleasant. Hope of a Better Life. My next observation is this, that a relig- ious life is that which most abounds in a well-grounded hope, and such an one as is fixed on objects that are capable of making us entirely happy. This hope in a religious man is much more sure and certain than the hope of any temporal blessing, as it is strengthened not only by reason, but by faith. It has at the same time its eye per- petually fixed on that state, which implies in the very notion of it the most full and the most complete happiness. Religious hope has likewise this advantage above any other kind of hope, that it is able k 306 HOPE. to revive the dying man, and to fill his mind not only with secret comfort and refreshment, but sometimes with rapture and transport. He triumphs in his agonies, whilst the soul springs forward with delight to the great object which she has always had in view, and leaves the body with an expectation of being reunited to her in a glorious and joyful resurrection. It is a precept several times inculcated by Horace, that we should not entertain a hope of anything in life which lies at a great dis- tance from us. The shortness and uncer- tainty of our time here makes such a kind of hope unreasonable and absurd. The grave lies unseen between us and the object which we reach after. Where one man lives to enjoy the good he has in view, ten thou- sand are cut off in the pursuit of it. Fruition of Hope. O «end me down a draught of love, Or take me hence to drink above ! Here, Marah's water fills my cup ; But there, all griefs are swallowed up. Love here is scarce a faint desire ; But there, the spark's a flaming fire ; Joys here are drops, that passing flee ; But there, an overflowing sea. My faith, that sees so darkly here. Will there resign to vision clear ; My hope, that's here a weary groan, Will to fruition yield the throne. Rai,ph BrSKIne. One of the most fatal things in the life of faith is discouragement. One of the most helpful is cheerfulness. A very wise man once said that in overcoming temptations cheerfulness was the first thing, cheerfulness the second, and cheerfulness the third. We must expect to conquer. That is why the Lord said so often to Joshua, " Be strong and of a good courage;" "Be not afraid. neither be thou dismayed ; '! " Only be thou strong and very courageous." And it is also the reason he says to us, " Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." The power of temptation is in the fainting of our own hearts. Satan knows this well, and he always begins his assaults by discouraging us, if he can in any way accomplish it. A Striking Allegory. I remember once hearing an allegory that illustrated this to me wonderfully. Satan called together a council of his servants to consult how they might make a good man sin. One evil spirit started up and said, " I will make him sin." " How will you do it ? " asked Satan. " I will set before him the pleasures of sin," was the reply ; " I will tell him of its delights and the rich rewards it brings." " Ah ! " said Satan, " that will not do ; he has tried it, and knows better than that." Then another spirit started up and said, " I will make him sin." "What will you do? " asked Satan. " I will tell him of the pains and sorrows of virtue. I will show him that virtue has no delights and brings no rewards. "Ah, no!" exclaimed Satan, "that will not do at all ; for he has tried it, and knows that ' wisdom's ways are ways of pleasantness and all her paths are peace.' " "Well," said another imp, starting up, " I will undertake to make him sin." "And what will you do ? " asked Satan, again. " I will discourage his soul," was the short reply. "Ah, that will do!" cried Satan, " that will do ! We shall conquer him now." And they did. An old writer says, "All discouragement is from the devil," and I wish every Christian would take this as a pocket-piece, and never forget it. We must fly from discouragement THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. 307 as we would from sin, and keep our eyes bright with undying hope. If we give way to despondency, if we yield our energy and strength before the first whirlwind of misfortune, we shall soon discover that we have made a sad calcula- tion. Life is made up of sunshine and shadow. None can expect exemption from trial and vicissitude, and when these • mis- fortunes come, they should be encountered with a brave spirit, and a determination to deserve better for the future. We can conceive of no more noble-hearted being, than the individual who goes about encouraging and consoling, who has a good word on all occasions, and who endeavors not only to render his own pathway as bright and as cheerful as possible, but to inspire confidence, hope, and courage in the minds and hearts of others. However dark the day may be, he sees sunshine in the morrow. Whatever misfor- tunes may surround the present, he encour- ages the sufferer to wrestle in a manly spirit, satisfied that a better and brighter season is at hand. He sympathizes with the afflicted, and at the same time whispers words of hope. The calamity is serious, he admits, "but it might have been worse." And then, he argues, " adversity has its uses." He shows how poor a dependence man may have upon himself, and how neces- sary is the reliance upon Providence. He ever encourages the doctrine of "time, faith, and energy." He cites similar cases, and shows that the gloom is likely to prove but temporary, and that change and prosperity will soon come. How much better this than the spirit of the croaker! A living hope, living in death itself: the world dares say no more for its device than Ditm spiro spero — "While I breathe, I hope;" but the children of God can add by virtue of this living hope, Dum spiro spero — "While I expire, I hope." Like a valiant captain in a losing battle, hope is ever encouraging man, and never leaves him till they both expire together. It is almost as the air by which the mind doth live. ONE PRECIOUS HOPE. And our beloved have departed, While we tarry, broken-hearted, In the dreary, empty house ; They have ended life's brief story, They have reached their home of glory. Over death victorious. Hush that sobbing, weep more lightly, On we travel, daily, nightly, To the rest that they have found. Are we not upon the river. Sailing fast, to meet forever On more holy, happy grounds Every hour that passes o'er us Speaks of comfort yet before us — Of our journey's rapid rate ; And like passing vesper bells, The clock of time its chiming tells. At eternity's broad gate. Ah ! the way is shining clearer, As we journey ever nearer To the everlasting home. Friends who there await the landing, Comrades round the throne now standing, We salute you, and we come. A VISIT OF SYMPATHY. 308 CHAPTER XIX. SYMPATHY. J OLD people are of little use to others. The world is not in want of icebergs. We were not born to freeze up our- selves or to freeze those around us. When a ship in the Atlantic comes near an iceberg the chill in the air tells of it. You can feel a cold shiver. And there are people who are just as cold; you get chilled every time you come near them. The best hearts are not made of stone. There is something warm about them. They melt and run. Love is the world's summer and without it nothing would grow. He is a weak, narrow, selfish, cold-blooded man who can see a tear and care nothing for it. You should be sensitive to the wants and sorrows around you. Feeling is your grandest accomplishment. It is the crown and glory of character. True religion is to pity the widow and the fatherless, and with- out this, religion is a sham. If you can't give away a loaf of bread, well-baked and not stale, your prayers are dough. Good giving and good praying are in partnership. Sympathy is one of the great secrets of a happy and successful life. It overcomes evil and strengthens good. It disarms resistance, melts the hardest heart, and develops the tetter part of human nature. It is one of the great truths on which Christianity is based. "Love one another" contains a gospel sufficient to renovate the world. It is related of the Apostle John that when very old — so old that he could not walk and could scarcely speak — he was carried in the arms of his friends into an assembly of Christian people. He lifted himself up and said, "Little children, love one another." And again he said, "Love one another." When asked, "Have you nothing else to tell us ? " he replied, " I say this again and again, because, if you do this, nothing more is needed." We Are All One. Man is dear to man : the poorest poor Long for some moments in a weary life, When they can know and feel that they have been Themselves the fathers and the dealers-out Of some small blessings : have been kind to such As needed kindness, for the single cause, That we have all of us one human heart. Wii:on regardless of reward. Carries its Own Reward. The sense of gratitude, the feeling that it sTiould be cherished and expressed is com- mon to all persons ; it is born with us and it may truly be said is one of the finest ele- ments of character. There is a not a more pleasing exercise of the mind than gratitude. It is accompanied ■with such an inward satisfaction that the •duty is sufficiently rewarded by the perform- ance. It is not, like the practice of many other virtues, difficult and painful, but att'en- •ded with so much pleasure, that were there Tio positive command which enjoined it, nor ■any recompense laid up for it hereafter, a generous mind would indulge in it for the natural gratification that accompanies it. If gratitude is due from man to man, how much more from man to his Maker ! The Supreme Being does not confer us those bounties which proceed more immediately from his hand, but even those benefits which are conveyed to us by others. Every bless- ing we enjoy, by what means soever it may be derived upon us, is the gift of Him who is the Author of good and Father of mercies. If gratitude when exerted towards another naturally produces a very pleasing sensation in the mind of a grateful man, it exalts the soul into rapture when it is employed on this great object of gratitude, on this beneficent Being who has given us everything we already possess, and from whom we expect everything we yet hope for. Instinct of Gratitude. He that has nature in him must be grateful 'Tis the Creator's primary great law, That links the chain of beings to each other, Joining the greater to the lesser nature, Tying the weak and strong, the poor and powerful. Subduing men to brutes, and even brutes to men. Samuei^ Madan. Why should not the heart be always thankful, for there is a faith which all may possess that assures us our lives are well ordered and protected. All's for the Best. All's for the best ! be sanguine and cheerful. Troubles and sorrows are friends in disguise. Nothing but folly goes faithless and fearful. Courage forever is happy and wise ; All's for the best — if a man could but know it Providence wishes us all to be blest ; This is no dream of the pundit or poet. Heaven is gracious, and all's for the best ! All's for the best ! set this on your standard, Soldier of sadness, or pilgrim of love, Who to the shores of despair may have wandered, A wayfaring swallow or heart-stricken dove. All's for the best ! be a man, but confiding, Providence tenderly governs the rest. And the frail bark of his creatures is guiding, Wisely and warily, all's for the best ! All's for the best ! then fling away terrors. Meet ail your fears and loss in the van. And in the midst of your dangers or errors, Trust like a child, while you strive like a man. GRATITUDE. All's for the best ! unbiassed, unbounded, Providence reigns from the east to the west, And by both wisdom and mercy surrounded, Hope and be happy, for all's for the best ! A fine example of royal gratitude was that of Charles II, related by Hood in his " Life of Cromwell." Richard Penderel, Charles introduced to his Court, saying, " The sim- plest rustic who serves his sovereign in the time of need to the utmost extent of his abiHty i.= as deserving of our commendation as the victorious leader of thousands. Friend Richard," continued the king, " I am glad to see thee ; thou wert my pre- server and conductor, the bright star that showed me to my Bethlehem, for which kindness I will engrave thy memory on the tablet of a faithful heart." Turning to the lords, the king said, " My lords, I pray you respect this good man for my sake. Master Richard, be bold and tell these lords what passed among us when I had quitted the oak at Boscobel to reach Pit Leason." When Charles had been defeated he was aided in making his escape to France by Penderel There is an old fable of a man who saw an adder lying on the ground, benumbed with cold and nearly dead. His pity was moved and he thought he would try and save the reptile's life. He took it up, placed it in his bosom and soon restored it by the warmth of his own body. What did the reptile do then but turn upon its benefactor, strike its poisonous fangs into his breast and give him a death-wound? The one who had saved the life of the venomous adder lost his own. The old fable gives this as an illustration of ingratitude. You can see at a glance its truthfulness and force. How many there are who have received undeserved benefits, and then, with, the demonish .spirit of malice, turn and rend their benefactors. This is not human. It is the spirit of the adder which, having received the kindness of the one who sought to save its life, buried its fangs in the very bosom that warmed it. To be thankful is not only pleasant to the one who has bestowed the gift ; it is a sweet satisfaction to the one who is grateful. This disposition is among those virtues the exer- cise of which has been ordained for our inward satisfaction and peace. We are thus placed on a level with the noblest characters and our life blossoms into beauty. May a kind Providence save us from ever being chilled by ingratitude. What the frost is to the violet and the lily, an unthankful spirit is to our best endeavors and intentions. The great master of the human heart, Shakespeare, exclaims, " Ingratitude thou marble-hearted fiend ! " And again: "How sharper than a serpent's teeLh it is to have a thankless child." No one will dispute the truth here stated ; it i.i recognized in all the walks of life. Gratitude is an angel that flies with wings, and whose face wears the smile of heaven. Ingratitude is a demon, dark and malicious, from whom all noble natures recoil. It throws a shadow over every hfe that comes within its influence.. SELF-SACRIFICE. 390 chapte:r XXV. SELF=SACRIFICE. ^J^^^^r OU cannot gain without giving, v?^^^^^/^ You cannot obtain without ex- "^/■\Cv pending. You must sacrifice ^§^^^c^ yourself if you would make the jf^' most of yourself. There is a general law in the world which requires a yielding up, an outlay before the best things, before anything, indeed, can be brought to pass. There is a cost that is always demanded; there is an expenditure that must be made. The illustrations of this principle are on •every side of us. Bread is one of our most common articles of food. Kingdoms are Icingdoms because of bread. "It is the staff of hfe." It enters into blood and brain. We get the bread from flour, flung from the hiopper of the noisy mill. It comes from wheat, and what does wheat come from? It costs a seed to get a stalk of wheat, and that seed must give itself, must go into the ground and die. It cannot save itself; the attempt would make it a useless thing. Take this country of ours and other countries together, and millions of acres of wheat are sown in the autumn. The seed, the dying seed — withhold that, and you would cut off the next year's harvest. Save all the kernels ■of the grape, never plant any, and no new vine with tangled tendrils and purple clusters would ever grow. It takes the plough and harrow, the soaking rains and gentle sun- shine, to get a field of wheat. More than this, it takes the dying seed. There is a law in the universe that things must be sacrificed before they can show what is in them and what they are good for ; nothing can be gained, nothing can be done without cost. How do you think the surrounding coun- try looked when William Penn sailed up the Delaware? A wilderness then, its paths trodden by the red men, its tree-tops the home of the eagle. Then the gloom of the deep wild forest — now the beauty of the landscape! Then the bark villages of the Indian — now the throbbing life of busy cities ! It has cost something to make the transformation ; there has been a tremendous outlay. It has cost time and labor and money. The iron and steel gave themselves for the ax ; the men gave the strength of arm that swung it. The trees gave them- selves that there might be a harvest, and so, too, the rich soil gave itself. Think what cutting, slashing, upturning, ploughing, sow- ing, building, cultivating, there must have been — think what forces of brain and arm, and unceasing toil, were engaged to tran;;- figure this land and make it so fair. And here it is true again that to get something, something must be given. Self Cannot be Favored. It is wonderful how this one thought that things cannot be saved, that they must give themselves up, runs through everything. Would you have a successful business? It will cost you care and anxiety, labor and capital; you cannot save yourself. Would you be a scholar? It will cost you the closest study and application, and perhaps 391 392 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. many a headache and weary hour. Would you be a fine piano player? It will cost you unremitting practice and steady perseverance; and even then, perhaps, yon will feel like telling people that you never play. Would you be a stenographer and able to catch the burning thoughts that flow from the lips of the orator? Or would you be the orator holding listening thousands spellbound? Your time, your effort, your earnestness of purpose alone can do it. There must always be an outlay. There is no escaping the cost. Sacrifice is th^, grand secret of success. Alexander's Thirsty Army. When the army of Alexander the Great was marching against Darius, in crossing the deserts they often suffered more for want of water than by fatigue; many of the cavalry were unable to hold out. While they were upon the march some Macedonians had filled their bottles at a river, and were bring- ing the water upon mules. These people, seeing Alexander greatly distressed with thirst (for it was in the heat of the day), immediately filled a helmet with water, and presented it to him. He asked them to whom they were carry- ing it, and they said, "Our sons; but if our prince does but live, we shall get other chil- dren, if we lose them." Upon this he took the helmet in his hands; but looking round, and seeing all the horsemen bending their heads, and fixing their eyes upon the water, he returned it without drinking. However, he praised the people that offered it, and said, "If I alone drink, these good men will be dispirited." The cavalry, who were wit- nesses to this act of temperance and mag- nanimity, cried out, " Let us march ! We are neither weary nor thirsty, nor shall we even think ourselves mortal, while under the conduct of such a king." . At the same time they put spurs to their horses and dash ; away with fresh courage. Says Atterbury : "A good man not only forbears those gratifications which are for- bidden by reason and religion, but even restrains himself in unforbidden instances." Says Robert Hall: "The opportunities ot making great sacrifices for the good of man- kind are of rare occurrence, and he who remains inactive till it is in his power to confer signal benefits or yield important services is in. imminent danger of incurring the doom of the slothful servant. It is the preference of duty to inclination in the ordi- nary course of life, it is the practice of self- denial in a thousand little instances, which forms the truest test of character, and secures the honor and the reward of those who live not to themselves." Teach self-denial, and make its practice pleasurable, and you create for the world a destiny more sublime than ever issued from the brain of the wildest dreamer. Giving and Living. Forever the sun is pouring his gold On a hundred woiflds that beg and borrow ; His warmth he squanders on summits cold, His wealth, on the homes of want and sorrow. To withhold his largess of precious light Is to bury himself in eternal night : To give is to live. The flower shines not for itself at all, Its joy is the joy it freely diffuses ; Of beauty and balm it is prodigal. And it lives in the life it sweetly loses. No choice for the rose but glory or doom — To exhale or smother, to wither or bloom : To deny is to die. The seas lend silvery rain to the land, The laud its sapphire streams to the ocean ; The heart sends blood to the brain of commapd, The brain to the heart its constant motion ; And over and over we yield our breath — Till the mirror is dry and images death : To live is to gire. SELF-SACRIFICE. 393 He IS dead whose hand is not opened wide To help the need of sister or brother ; He doubles the worth of his life-long ride Who gives his fortunate place to another ; Not one, but a thousand lives are his Who carries the world in his sympathies : To deny is to die. Throw gold to the far-dispersing wave, , And your ships sail home with tons of treasure ; Care not for comfort, all hardships brave. And evening and age shall sup with pleasure ; Fling health to the sunshine, wind and rain, And roses shall come to the cheek again : To give is to live. Says Sir Walter Scott . " There never did and never v/ill exist anything permanently noble and excellent in a character which was a stranger to the exercise of resolute self- denial." But if there were no such consideration as the good effect which self-denial has upon the sense of other men towards us, it is of all qualities the most desirable for the agree- able disposition in which it places our own minds. I cannot tell what better to say of it than that it is the very contrary of ambi- tion ; and that modesty allays all those pas- sions and inquietudes to which that vice ex- poses us. How Pleasures are Doubled. He that is moderate in his wishes, from reason and choice, and not resigned from sourness, distate or disappointment, doubles all the pleasures of his life. The air, the season, a sunshiny day, or a fair prospect, are instances of happiness ; and that which he enjoys in common with all the world (by his exemption from the enchantments by which all the world are bewitched), are to him uncommon benefits and new acquisi-. tions. Health is not eaten up with care, nor pleasure interrupted by envy. The great foundation of civil virtue is self- denial : and there is no one above the neces- sities of life, but has opportunities of exer- cising that noble quality, and doing as much as his circumstances will bear for the ease and convenience of other men ; and he who does more than ordinary men practice upon such occasions as occur in his life, deserves the value of his friends, as if he had done enter- prises which are usually attended with the brightest glory. Men of public spirit differ rather in their circumstances than their virtue ; and the man who does all he can, in a low station, is more a hero than he who omits any worthy action he is able to accom- plish in a great one. He Caught the Contagion. The great philanthropist, John Howard, literally died in the act of showing forth his self-sacrificing spirit. A lady some distance away was very ill, and wished to see him. Being sent for, he was determined to go. The rain was falling in torrents — a cold December rain — and the wind was blowing a gale. As he could not, without much delay, procure a vehicle, he mounted an old dray horse and rode the twenty-four miles through the tempest. He arrived to find his patient dying of hospital fever. He tried, however, some powerful medicines upon her, with a view to excite perspiration ; and, in order to ascertain whether they were producing the wished-for-efifect, he lifted the bedclothes and felt of her arm. As he did so, the effluvia from her body was so offensive that he could scarcely en- dure it. She died soon after, and he returned to Cherson. Three days later he was seized with the same fever. The exhaustion cf his long and painful ride, and the shock to his feelings at finding his patient in the agonies of death, had rendered his system liable to the contagion, which had struck him, as he believed, at the moment of his lifting the 394 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. bedclothes. Yet he did not regret his efforts to befriend a poor, dying woman. Macaulay pays a glowing tribute to the Jesuits who risked their lives in the effort to minister to those who were stricken with a plague : " When in our time a new and ter- rible pestilence passed round the globe ; when in some great cities fear had dissolved all the ties which hold society together; when the secular clergy had deserted their flocks ; when medical succor was not to be purchased by gold ; when the strongest natural affections had yielded to the love of life, even then the Jesuit was found by the pallet which bishop and curate, physician and nurse, father and mother had deserted, bending over infected lips to catch the faint accents of confession, and holding up to the last, before the expiring penitent, the image of the expiring Redeemer." Grecian Patriotism. The pages of history are luminous and bright with examples of self-sacrifice. It shines out boldly in every great national crisis. The story of Greece, her victories and achievements, is one glowing tribute to this principle. The world will never cease to wonder at the valor which has made Thermopylae one of the most famous names in history. Tennyson has celebrated in song the headlong charge of the six hun- dred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them Volleyed and thundered ; Into the jaws of death Rode the six hundred. But history affords no such record as that of the three hundred who not only risked but gave their lives in defence of Greece. I am not eager to applaud battle deeds, yet there are times when patriotism rises to the height of sublimity, and the man who dares and suffers is earth's grandest hero. And, speaking of the ancient Greeks, a sentiment prevailed among them which taught that self must be ignored for the public good, and home and country were worth dying for. In Sparta, Lycurgus taught his citizens to think nothing more disagree- able than to live by (or for) themselves. Like bees, they acted with one impulse for the public good, and always assembled about their prince. They were possessed with a thirst of honor and enthusiasm bor- dering upon insanity, and had not a wish but for their country. These sentiments are confirmed by some of their aphorisms. When Paedaretus lost his election for one of the three hundred, he went away rejoicing that there were three hundred better men than himself found in the city. Pisistratides going with some others, ambassador to the King of Persia's lieutenants, was asked whether they came with a public commis- sion or on their own account, to which he answered, " If successful, for the public ; if unsuccessful, for ourselves." A Virginian Hero. Mr. Bancroft, in his history of the United States, pays a handsome tribute to one of the forerunners of the American Revolution, a man who had the courage of his convic- tions, and did not count the cost of standing manfully by them. This man was Thomas Hansford, who was accounted a rebel in 1676, a hundred years before the Declara- tion of Independence. He stoutly denied that what was charged on him as rebellion was anything less than a duty and the noblest virtue. He was apprehended, tried and convicted. It was not the most politic thing to condemn him to death, for it might have been known that this act would create 596 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. sympathy for him and would be the fruitful seed from which a host of brave spirits would spring. The day of his execution arrived. " Take notice," said he, as he came to the gibbet, " I die a loyal subject and a lover of my country." That country was Virginia. Says Bancroft: "Hansford perished, the first native American on the gallows, a martyr to the right of the people to govern them- selves." Pointed to His own House. Virginia furnished another noble soul who illustrates the same spirit ; this was Thomas Nelson, governor of the state. The British troops were occupying Yorktown, which was besieged by the Revolutionary army. Governor Nelson had his residence at York- town, and one would suppose that he would have been anxious to protect it. The Fed- eral troops were bombarding the town, when General Lafayette said to Nelson, " To what particular spot would your Excellency direct that we point the cannon?" "There," promptly replied the noble-minded patriot — " to that house ; it is mine and is the best one you can find in the town ; there you will be most certain to find Lord Cornwallis and the British headquarters." This incident is narrated in Custis' hfe of Washington, a volume which contains many thrilling anec- dotes that show the self-sacrificing spirit of those early heroes who by their toils and sufferings laid the foundation of our national life and glory. As reference has often been made to Wash- ington, it is appropriate to quote here a ref- erence to him by the historian Knight. It is as follows : " When George Washington accepted his commission from the Conti- nental Congress as commander-in-chief of the American army he said no pecuniary consideration could have tempted him to accept this arduous employment at the ex- pense of his domestic ease and happiness ; he had no desire to make a profit by it. He would take no pay. He would keep an exact account of his expenses, and those he doubted not would be discharged." Here the true spirit of the great com- mander and " Father of His Country " shines resplendently forth. Not taking him- self into account, not asking what would be his personal gain, not seeking any selfish advantage, believing that the holy cause was worth more than any man's life, he staked all, and, if he had been unwiUing to do it, he never could have been George Washing- ton. While men chisel marble, while poets sing and hearts are thrilled by noble deeds, the names of those who by self-denial and faithful service gave to this land of ours its multiferious blessings and splendid oppor- tunities will be wreathed with fame and cherished with gratitude. Cradle of Our Nation. In the old Independence Hall in Philadel- phia there is a portrait gallery of the founders of the nation. The venerable Hall is a shrine to which a crowd of feet is always pressing. Here old and young alike stand in hush of spirit, and gaze upon the nation's memorials. It is a sacred spot. Here is the cradle in which the republic was rocked. Why should persons from every part of the land visit this famous building and look with awe upon the faces hung upon its walls, except for the spirit of sacrifice and devotion associated with these men of Revolutionary fame ? We give to them our heart's homage, because they gave all for liberty. Before passing from these historic exam- ples let me mention one from the historian Gibbon. It is related by him that the Sara- SELF-SACRIFICE. 597 cens besieged the cities of Beneventum and Capua ; after a vain appeal to the successors of Charlemagne, the Lombards implored the clemency and aid of the Greek emperor. A fearless citizen dropped from the walls, passed theintrenchments, accomplished his commis- sion,, and fell into the hands of the bar- barians as he was returning with the welcome news. They commanded him to assist their enterprise, and deceive his countrymen, with the assurance that wealth and honors should be the reward of his falsehood, and that his sincerity would be punished with immediate death. Stabbed by a Hundred Spears. He affected to yield, but as soon as he was conducted within hearing of the Chris- tians on the rampart, "Friends and breth- ren," he cried, with a loud voice, "be bold and patient ; maintain the city ; your sover- eign is informed of your distress, and your deliverers are at hand. I know my doom, and commit my wife and children to your gratitude." The rage of the Arabs con- firmed his evidence ; ai)d the self-devoted patriot was transpierced with a hundred spears. A recent author, speaking of Prince Bis- marck, says : " He adopted it as the aim of his pubhc life to snatch Germany from Austrian oppression," and to gather round Prussia, in a North German Confederation, all the States '•' whose tone of thought, relig- ion, manners, and interests " were in harmony with those of Prussia. " To attain this end," he once said in conversation, " I would brave all dangers — exile, the scaffold itself ! What matter if they hang me, provided the rope by which I am hung binds this new Germany firmly to the Prussian throne !" Here is one main secret of Bismarck's power, and his position and influence in the affairs of Europe. He was more than king; armies were less than he ; great national transactions took place by his consent; at his nod empires shook, all because Bismarck was nothing, and the welfare of his Father- land was everything. No self-seeking man conniving, contriving, ambitious, plotting, begging favor, nursing his own interests, ever could have reached the pinnacle of power on which he stood. You are not a prince, except in that noble sense that you are a prince of toil. You carry sunburned hands and wear clothes which have about them the odor of the factory or the farm, but in your sphere, wherever you find it, you can rise above yourself and by giving you can gain. The poet, WiUiam Wordsworth, is widely known by many of his productions, one especially. Its title is " Ode to Duty." Two of its lines are well worth quoting here : Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice. Neither Wordsworth nor any one else could write a eulogy upon duty, present- ing it in its truest and noblest character, and leave out that self-sacrifice which makes the man who shows it more than man and renders the world a better world. None Live to Themselves. God has written upon the flower that sweetens the air, upon the breeze that rocks the flower upon its stem, upon the raindrops that swell the mighty river, upon the dew- drops that refresh the smallest sprig of moss that rears its head in the desert, upon the ocean that rocks every swimmer in its chan- nel, upon every penciled shell that sleeps in the caverns of the deep, as well as upon the mighty sun which warms and cheers the millions of creatures that live in his lis^ht — ■ 39S THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. upon all he has written, " None of us liveth to himself." Do you think it possible to understand how much better and brighter the world is by reason of self-sacrifice ? In one of our eastern towns there once lived a lady, who was familiarly called the " Mother of the Neighborhood." It was worth something to live in the neighborhood where this woman performed her deeds of charity. She was physically a noble speciman of woman- hood. Health and strength were among her enviable possessions. She could watch over the sick all night, and attend to her house- hold duties during the day. Beloved by All. It may as well be stated that she never neglected her own affairs, never was absent from her own kitchen or parlor, never failed to dust a piece of furniture, because largely devoting her life to the good of others. She was the admiration of all ; more than this, she was beloved. The poor, yes, the rich knew where to find a friend. It was as natural for her to bring sunlight and hope into dark dwellings as it was to breathe — no effort, no trouble, no holding back, but a free generous giving of self wherever her gracious presence was needed. If there was a weary heart, a sick child, a poor sufferer from any cause — if misfortune had over- taken any family, there the " Mother of the Neighborhood" was to be found. She was not an authoress. She never pre- sided at female conventions. She never made a speech in public — or rather her beautiful life was one long utterance which was more eloquent than speech. She was just a plain, sensible, every day sort of a woman. There was something about her which seemed to say, " If I can help you, nothing would give me greater pleasure." And so, by her kindly deeds, she found a place in all hearts. Be assured that no po- sition was more to be coveted than that of this plain sympathetic " Mother of the Neighborhood." Her biography has never been written except here. Nor is it needful that it should be ; the best writing is that which is made on human hearts. It is use- less to attempt to eulogize such a woman or praise her virtues. The pen is too cold and the ink is too thin. Those who knew her and whose lives had been warmed by the sunshine of her face and the love of her great soul, are the living monuments to this "Mother of the Neighborhood." Grander than Queen. Do not think for a moment I am drawing a fancy sketch. This lady was once real flesh and blood. When she was translated, when she passed through what we name death — rather, when she entered into life, a shadow fell and that neighborhood was darkened. She might have been called queen, she might have graced courts with her beauty and her jewels, but to be called the "Mother of the Neighborhood," was a grander tribute than would have been the name of queen. And so it comes about that the real heroines are to be found in everyc'ay life. They are all about you. You do not have to advertise to discover them. You do not have to travel to overtake them. Carving a Name. I wrote my name upon the sand. And trusted it would stand for aye ; But soon, alas ! the refluent sea Had washed my feeble lines away. I carved my name upon the wood, And, after years, returned again ; I missed the shadow of the tree That stretched of old upon the plain. To solid marble next my name I gave as a perpetual trust ; SELF-SACRIFICE. ■699 An earthquake rent it to its base, And now it lies o'erlaid with dust. All these have failed. In wiser mood I turn and ask myself, " What then ? If I would have my name endure, I'll write it on the hearts of men. " ' In characters of living light, From kindly words and actions wrought ; And these, beyond the reach of time, Chall live immortal as my thought.' " Horatio Alger. History and poetry celebrate no sublimer act of devotion than that of Albert G. Drecker, the watchman of the Passaic River drawbridge on the New York and Newark Railroad. The train was • due, and he was closing the draw when his little child fell into the deep water. It would have been easy enough to rescue him, if the father could have taken the time, but already the thundering train was at hand. It was a cruel agony. His child could be saved only at the cost of other lives committed to his care. The brave man did his duty, but the child was drowned. The pass at Thermo- pylae was not more heroically kept. The Drawbridge Keeper. Drecker, the drawbridge keepet, opened wide The dangerous gate to let the vessel through ; His little son was standing by his side, Above Passaic river, deep and blue ; While in the distance, like a moan of pain, Was heard the whistle of the coming train. At once brave Drecker worked to swing it back — The gate-like bridge, that seems a gate of death ; Nearer and nearer, on the slender track. Came the swift engine, puffing its white breath. Then, with a shriek, the loving father saw His darling boy fall headlong from the draw. Either at once down in the stream to spring And save his son, and let the living freight Rush on to death, or to his work to cling. And leave his boy unhelped to meet his fate ; Which should he do? Were you, as he was tried, Would not your love outweight all else beside? And yet the child to him was full a^ dear As yours may be to you — the light of eyes, A presence like a brighter atmosphere. The hoviseholdstar that shone in love's mild skies— • Yet side by side with duty, stern and grim. Even his child become as nought to him. For Drecker, being great of soul, and true. Held to his work, and did not aid his boy. Who, in the deep, dark water sank from view. Then from the father's life went forth all joy ; But, as he fell back, pallid with his pain. Across the bridge, in safety, passed the train. And yet the man was poor, and in his breast Flowed no ancestral blood of king or lord; True greatness needs no title and no crest To win from men just honor and reward ; Nobility is not of rank, but mind — ■ And is inborn, and common in our kind. He is most noble whose humanity Is least corrupted. To be just and good The birthright of the lowest born may be ; Say what we can, we are one brotherhood. And rich, or poor, or famous or unknown, True hearts are noble, and true hearts alone. Henry Abbey. Story of a Naval Officer. Sir Alexander Ball was one of those great men who adorned the English navy at the end of the last century. Though less known, perhaps, to the present generation than sev- eral of his contemporaries, lie was inferior to none of them; and in many respects it would be difficult to name his equal. To bravery, decision and energy he added a sound judg- ment, a meditative mind, and the most unwearied benevolence. The following anecdotes are from the pen of his friend, the poet, Coleridge. " In a large party at the Grand Master's palace, in Malta, I had observed a naval officer of distinguished merit listening to Sir A. Ball, whenever he joined in the conversation, with a mixed expression of awe and affection that gave a more than common interest to so manly a countenance. This officer after- 400 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. wards told me that he considered himself indebted to Sir Alexander for that which was dearer to him than his life. " 'When he was Lieutenant Ball,' said he, " he was the officer I accompanied in my first boat expedition, being then a midship- man, and only in my fourteenth year. As we were rowing up to the vessel which we were to attack, amid a discharge of musketry, I was overpowered by fear, and seemed on the point of fainting away. Lieutenant Ball, who saw the condition I was in, placed him- self close beside me, and still keeping his countenance directed towards the enemy, pressed my hand in the most friendly man- ner, and said in a low voice, " Courage, my dear boy, you will recover in a minute or so; I was just the same when I first went out in this way." Sir,' added the officer to me, ' it was as if an angel had put a new soul into me. With the feeling that I was not yet dishonored, the whole burden of agony was removed ; and from that moment I was as fearless and forward as the oldest of the boat's crew.' " "I Will Not Leave You." For some time a coolness existed between Lord (then Captain) Nelson and Captain Ball. When both their ships were together, close off Minorca, Nelson's vessel was nearly disabled by a violent storm, and Captain Ball took it in tow, and used his best endeavors to bring her into Port Mahon. Nelson, believing that both ships would be lost, requested Captain Ball to let him loose, and on his refusal became impetuous, and enforced his demand with passionate threats. Captain Ball then took a speaking-trumpet, and calmly replied, " I feel confident that I can bring you in safe ; therefore I must not, and by the help of the Almighty God I will not. leave you ! What he promised he per- formed ; and after they were safely anchored. Nelson came on board of Ball's ship, and embracing him with all the ardor of acknowl- edgment, exclaimed, "A friend in need is a friend indeed." This was the beginning of a firm and perfect friendship between these two great men. A Gallant Lad. Captain Boggs, of Varuna, tells a story of a brave boy who was on board his vessel during the bombardment of the forts on the Misissippi River. The lad, who answered to the name of Oscar, was but thirteen years of age, but had an old head on his shoulders, and was alert and energetic. During the hottest of the fire he was busily engaged in passing ammunition to the gunners, and nar- rowly escaped death when one of the terrific broadsides of the Varuna's antagonist was poured in. Covered with dirt and begrimed with powder, he was met by Captain Boggs, who asked where he was going in such a hurry. " To get a passing-box, sir ; the other one was smashed by a ball." And so through the fight, the brave lad held his place and did his duty. When the Varuna went down, Captain Boggs missed the boy, and thought he was among the victims of the battle. But a few minutes afterwards he saw the lad gallantly swimming toward the wreck. Clambering on board of Captain Boggs' boat, he threw his hand up to his forehead, giving the usual salute, and uttering only the words, "All right, sir ! I report myself on board," passed coolly to his station. John B. Gough used to narrate in his own eloquent and thrilling way the story of John Maynard, the brave hero who lost his life on Lake Erie in the successful endeavor to save the lives on board the vessel, of which he was the pilot. John Maynard was SELF-SACRIFICE. 401 a plain, unknown man, and probably no one ever imagined would exhibit such self- sacrifice. Never will his story cease to thrill the hearts of those who read it. It has been embodied in verse by Mr. Alger, and we take pleasure here in presenting it to the reader. John Maynard. 'Twas on Lake Brie's broad expanse, One bright midsummer day, The gallant steamer Ocean Queen Swept proudly on her way. Bright faces clustered on the deck, Or leaning o'er the side. Watched carelessly the feathery foam. That flecked the rippling tide. Ah, who beneath that cloudless sky. That smiling bends serene, Could dream that danger, awful, vast, Impended o'er the scene — Could dream that ere an hour had sped. That frame of sturdy oak Would sink beneath the lake's blue waves, Blackened with fire and smoke ? A seaman sought the captain's side, A moment whispered low ; The captain's swarthy face grew pale. He hurried down below. Alas, too late ! Though quick and sharp And clear his orders came, No human efforts could avail To quench the insidious flame. The bad news quickly reached the deck. It sped from lip to lip, And ghastly faces everywhere Looked from the doomed ship. "Is there no hope — no chance of life?" A hundred lips implore ; "But one," the captain made reply, ' ' To run the ship on shore. " A sailDr, whose heroic soul That hour should yet reveal — By name John Maynard, eastern born — Stood calmly at the wheel. " Head her south-east ! ' ' the captain shouts, Above the smothered roar. " Head her south-east -without delay ! Make for the nearest shore ! " No terror pales the helmsman's cheek. Or clouds his dauntless eye, As in a sailor's measured tone His voice responds, ' ' Ay, Ay ! ' ' Three hundred souls— the steamer's freight — Crowd forward wild with fear. While at the stern the dreadful flames Above the deck appear. John Maynard watched the nearing flames. But still, with steady hand He grasped the wheel, and steadfastly He steered the ship to land. "John Maynard," with an anxious voice. The captain cries once more, "Stand by the wheel five minutes yet, And we will reach the shore. ' ' Through flames and smoke that dauntless heart Responded firmly, still Unawed, though face to face with death, "With God's good help I will ! " The flames approach with giant strides, They scorch his hands and brow ; One arm disabled seeks his side, Ah, he is conquered now ! But no, his teeth are firmly set. He crushes down the pain — His knee upon the stanchion pressed, He guides the ship again. One moment yet ! one moment yet ! Brave heart, thy task is o'er ! The pebbles grate beneath the keel. The steamer touches shore. Three hundred grateful voices rise. In praise to God, that He Hath saved them from the fearful fire, And from the ingulfing sea. But where is he, that helmsman bold? The captain saw him reel — His nerveless hands released their task, He sunk beside the wheel. The wave received his lifeless corpse, Blackened with smoke and fire. God rest him ! Hero never had A nobler funeral pyre ! Horatio Ai,ger, Jr. A CASK OP INDECISION — DANGER ON BOTH SIDES. 402 CHAPTKR XXVI. DECISION. "T'HEN we can say " no " not / only to things that are wrong and sinful, but also to things pleasant, which would hinder and clog our grand duties and our chief work, we shall understand more fully what life is worth and how to make the most of it. We need our innocent enjoyments. After all that has been said about the sternness of the old Puritans, they doubtless had their mirth at times, told pithy stories, and may have been guilty even of practical jokes. Yet if we were to take the view that life is nothing but a play spell, caUing for no self- denial, demanding no decision on our part against the evil and in favor of the good, we should be making a grave mistake. The character must not be colorless, must not be of the milk and water type, must be positive and emphatic. Says HazHtt : "There is nothing more to be esteemed than a manly firmness and decision of character. I like a person who knows his own mind and sticks to it ; who sees at once what, in given circumstances, is to be done, and does it." Says Gilpin : " I hate to see things done by halves. If it be right, do it boldly ; if it be wrong, leave it undone." Says Thomas Carlyle in his own strong way : " The block of granite which was an obstacle in the pathway of the weak, becomes a stepping-stone in the pathway of the strong." Says the celebrated Punshon : "All the world over it is true that a double-minded man is unstable in all his ways, like a wave on the streamlet tossed hither and thither with every eddy of its tide. A determinate purpose in life and a steady adhesion to it through all disadvantages are indispensable conditions of success." Saying of Dr. Hawes. Says Virginia's statesman, William Wirt: " Decision of character will often give to an inferior mind command over a superior." There once lived in Hartford, Connecticut, a clergyman whose influence over the young was almost magical. Sympathetic, sound in judgment, plain and honest. Dr. Joel Hawes wielded a power such as belonged to kw men of his time. Here is one of his sayings : "He that cannot decidedly say 'no' when tempted to evil is on the highway to ruin. He loses the respect even of those who would tempt him, and becomes the pliant tool and victim of their evil designs." These sayings are quoted here to indicate what thoughtful men have had to say on the great matter of decision. No man is weaker than the one who is nothing more nor less than a weather-vane. He turns this way and that with every wind that blows. He has no mind of his own, no fixed opinion, no firm resolution, no strong determinati n. Yesterday he thought one thing ; to-da\- he thinks another. He is unstable and hence is unmanly. He drifts about as a straw does in a tempest. If he comes to a conclusion, he does not know how to hold it ; he is 403 404 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. ready for another, and then is ready for the next. Easily influenced, swayed this way and that, people say of him, " You never know where to find him." Do not trouble yourself to find him at all; he is not worth the finding. You do not like to see one whose chief characteristic is stubborness, one who resists all appeals to reason, makes up his mind perhaps hastily, and then boasts that he never gives up his opinion. He is obstinate, and is proud that he is so. A mule may have most excellent qualities for a mule, but a man who is mulish, who is stubborn, and little else but stubborn, is only to be despised. Perhaps the idea would be better expressed by saying he is too weak to form a correct opinion ; he has too little mind to ever change his mind. It belongs to noble souls to yield when there is good occasion for yielding. Scotland's Poet. You should learn to be firm. Said Napo- leon : " When firmness is sufficient, rashness is unnecessary." Steadfastness is a noble quality, but, unguided by knowledge, it becomes obstinancy. Robby Burns with all his genius was a weak man, the sport of cir- cumstances and the prey of his own appetite, yet ye wrote : " Firmness both in suffering and exertion is a character which I would wish to possess. I have always despised the whining yelp of complaint and the cowardly, feeble resolve." What are you to do in the whirl and swirl of life unless there is some- thing of the rock in you that beats back the billows ? This, as already intimated, does not mean that you are to stick to your resolve whether or no, but having made up your mind that what you are to do is right and reasonable, you are to do it, though the heavens fall. Do not be drifting constantly from one purpose to another. Keep the end in view and press toward it. Have that decision which means success ; get rid of that indecision which means defeat. No words of Mr. Lincoln have been more quoted than these : " With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right." Without this sentiment as a guiding star what is any man or nation worth ? One of the English poets has given us these noble lines : Thy purpose firm is equal to uhe deed ; Who does the best his circumstance allows Does well ; acts nobly, angels could no more. Why Men Fail. Here is the secret of many a failure in life. You have seen those who were bril- liant in mind, capable of achieving much, endowed with energy and activity, yet they are like the top that whirls round and round, accomplishing nothing. They set their faces in one direction for a time, yet only for a time. They think they will do this and begin to do it ; they think they will do that and go about it ; they think they will do something else, try it and give it up. The one thing for them to give up is their sense- less indecision. So long as they are blown about by every wind that strikes them, all effort is a failure and life becomes an ab- surdity. Some one asked, respecting a clergyman, to what church he belonged. The reply was, "I haven't heard to what denomination he does belong this year." What respect for such an unstable character can any one have ? To be fixed and reso- lute, to be decided and firm, is only to be expected of those who have brains enough to come to a conclusion. This trait of character has been recom- mended to young men too exclusively. I DECISION. 405 know of no reason why it is not equally ini- portant to young women, and equally be- coming the sex in general. One thing, at any rate, I do know ; which is, that thou- sands of young women — and the world through their imperfection — suffer, in no trifling degree, from the want of this virtue. I call it a virtue. What is there that pro- duces more evil — directly or indirectly — than the want of power, when occasion requires it, to say "yes," or "no?" As long as with half the human race — and the more influen- tial half, too — no does not mean no, andj/^'j' does not mean yes, there will be a vast amount of vice, and crime, and suffering in the world, as the natural consequence. And is not that which is the cause of so much evil, nearly akin to vice ? And is any thing more entitled to the name of virtue, than its opposite ? The King and the Curse. Let me illustrate my meaning by a Scrip- ture example. When Balak, the king of Moab, undertook to extort a curse upon Israel, from Balaam, the latter did not say no ; but only said, the Lord would not per- mit him to do what was required. He left neither to Balak nor to his messengers, any reason to conclude that his virtue was invul- nerable. On the contrary, as the event plainly shows, his answer was just such a one as encouraged them to prosecute their attempts to seduce him. Now it is precisely this sort of refusal, direct or implied, in a thousand cases which might be named, which brings down evil, not only upon those who make it, but upon others. They mean no, perhaps ; and yet it is not certain that the decision is — like the laws of the Medes and Persians — irrevoca- ble. Something in the tone, or manner, or both combined, leaves room to hope for suc- cess in time to come. "The woman who deliberates, is lost," we are told : and is it not so ? Do not many who say no with hesitancy, still retain the power and the dis- position to deliberate ? And is it not so understood ? It is — I repeat it — a great misfortune — a very great one — not to know how and when to say NO. Indeed, the undecided are more than unfortunate ; they are very unsafe. They who cannot say no, are never their own keep- ers ; they are always, more or less, in the power and at the command of others. They may form a thousand resolutions a day, to with- stand in the hour of temptation ; and yet, if the temptation comes, and they have not ac- quired decision of character, it is ten to one but they will yield to it. Is it too much to say, that half the world are miserable on this account — miserable themselves, and a source of misery to others ? Is it too much to say, that decision of char- acter is more important to young women than to any other class of persons whatever? Evils of Hesitation. But as it is in everything or almost every- thing else, so it is in this matter : they who would reform themselves, must begin with the smaller matters of life. The great trials — those of decision no less than those of other traits of human character — come but seldom ; and they who allow themselves, habitually, to vacillate, and hesitate, and re- main undecided, in the every-day concerns of life, will inevitably do so in those larger matters which recur less frequently. No one will succeed in acquiring true de- cision of character, without perseverance. A few feeble efforts, continued a day or two, or a week, are by no means sufficient to change the character or form the habit. The efforts must be earnest, energetic, and un- 406 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. remitted ; and must be persevered in through life. I am not ignorant that many philosophers and physiologists have denied that woman possesses the power of perseverance in what she undertakes, in any eminent degree. A British writer, distinguished for his boldness, if not for his metaphysical acuteness, main- tains with much earnestness, that woman, by her vital organization, is much wanting in perseverance. This notion may or may not be true. Certain it is, however, that she has her peculiarities, as well as man his. But whether she has little or much native power of perseverance in what she undertakes, is not so important a question, as whether she makes a proper use of the power she pos- sesses. The Right Thing at the Right Time. We are required to do that best which we undertake as much as is the highest seraph ; and woman is not the less bound to per- severe in matters where perseverance would become her, because her native power of per- severance is feeble, if, indeed, it is so. On the contrary, this very fact makes the duty of perseverance to the utmost extent of the means God has put into her hands, the more urgent — especially as small powers are apt to be overlooked. There is one habit which should be culti- vated, not only for its usefulness in general, but especially for its value in leading to true decision of character. I mean, the habit of doing everything which it devolves upon us to do at all, precisely at the time when it ought to be done. Everything in human character goes to wreck, under the reign of procrastination, while prompt action gives to all things a corresponding and proportional life and energy. Above all, everything in the shape of decision of character is lost by delay. It should be a sacred rule with every individual who lives in the world for any higher purpose than merely to live, never to put off, for a single moment, a thing which ought to be done immediately — if it be no more than the cleaning or changing of a garment. When I see a young woman neglecting, from day to day, her correspondents — her pile of letters constantly increasing, and her dread of putting pen and thoughts to paper accumulating as rapidly — I never fail to con- clude, at once, that whatever other excel- lent qualities she may possess, she is a stranger to the one in question. She who cannot make up her mind to answer a letter when she knows it ought to be answered — and in general a letter ought to be answered soon after it is received^ — will not be likely to manifest decision in other things of still greater importance. "A Little More Slumber." The same is true in regard to indecision in other things of even less moment than the writing of a letter. It is manifest espe- cially in regard to the matter of rising in the morning. She who knows it is time to get up, and yet cannot decide to do so, and consequently lies yawning a little longer, " and yet a little longer still," can never, I am bold to say, while this indolence and in- decision are indulged, be decided in any- thing else — at least, habitually. She may, indeed, be so by fits and starts ; but the habit will never be so confirmed as to be regarded as an essential element of her char- acter. Nearly all the habits of modern female education — I mean the fashionable educa- tion of the family and school — are entirely at war with the virtue I am endeavoring to inculcate. It would be a miracle, almost, if THE DECISIVE ANSWER. 407 408 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. a young woman who has been educated in a fashionable family, under the eye of a fashion- able mother, and at a fashionable boarding school, under the direction of a teacher whose main object is to please her patrons, should come out to the world, without being quite destitute of all true decision of char- acter. If it were the leading object of our boarding schools to form the habit of inde- cision, they could not succeed better than many of them now do. They furnish to the world a set of beings who are anything but what the world wants, and who are more likely to do almost anything else than to be the means of reforming it. A Grand Determination. You will doubtless say it is easy to give advice, that some persons make a business of it, that they give a great deal of advice which they never follow themselves. Very well, you are at liberty to say all this and much more. Still, it would not be well to forget that advice has its value and those who are never urged to overcome their faults and failings are not so likely to do it as those who are advised to thus gain a moral victory over themselves. It is not a question as to whether one is advised to do a certain thing ; if the duty recommended is binding and important, there should be no hesitation. What I am trying especially to enforce is bold decision, that grand deter- mination without which no man can be more than half a man. But firmness of purpose is master of the situation. Think of the great number of difficult pursuits. Think of the many hard things young people have to learn. You are anxious, we will say, to become a good scholar, and hold an enviable rank. Do you think you will attain this object by pur- suing it with enthusiasm for a week and then giving it up for a month ? You get down over your desk ; the problem is a hard one ; it suddenly occurs to you that you have a headache — which is a very con- venient thing to have, since that problem is so hard; your efforts suddenly cease. If you could be decided enough to take that problem and stick to it with grim tenacity, you would doubtless have the sweet satisfac- tion of having conquered, and would have proved what is of greater value, that you are not so weak as to be driven from your pur- pose by trifles or difficulties. Success Hangs on Decision. One of the hardest undertakings known to mechanical science, is the making of lenses for telescopes. It has been said there is only one successful maker of these lenses in this country, and he has furnished them for the largest telescopes on the continent. It re- quires not only mechanical genius for cutting, grinding, poHshing and adjusting the glass; something vastly more is needed. Think of beginning a work which is sure to last two or three years, with the possibility that even after all the labor of that time it will prove a complete failure. Some flaw may appear, some disproportion, some unforseen defect,, which will defeat the whole process. Then, a new beginning must be made, with the chance again of a similar result. Very won- derful is the lens through which the heavens burst in sumptuous splendor, but more mar- velous by far is that steady aim and unflinch- ing perseverance which declares it shall be done. The first obstacle would appall some men ; only the man of decision and force is equal to the occasion. Decision, strong and unyielding, has had much to do with the great successes which command our admira- tion and excite our surprise. Where many men fail is in the crisis of DECISION. 409 conduct. They know very well the course they should pursue ; they are tempted to do the opposite. You fancy that something is to be gained by yielding — as if it were possible ever to gain anything by a sacrifice of character. You have come to a fork in the roads ; one road or the other you must follow. You have a grand opportunity to say " no," and to say it, would place the brightest jewel in your crown. It is sur- prising that you doubt and hesitate. Poor, weak creature, you are not equal to the oc- casion. It were well if you could exhibit a holy stubborness in favor of the right. Just here is where men break, go to pieces, and the wreck is more deplorable than that of the richest argosy ever cast upon the rocks. It is not surprising, therefore, that so much has been said and written upon decision of char- acter, and this virtue has been urged and recommended as one of the chief elements of human success. The Roman Emperor. Doubtless all are familiar with the story of Csesar crossing the Rubicon. The details are given in Tyler's History, as follows : The boundary which separates Italy from Cisalpine Gaul is a small river named the Rubicon. The Roman Senate, aware of the designs of Caesar, had pronounced a decree devoting to the infernal gods whatever gen- eral should presume to pass this boundary with an army, a legion, or even a single co- hort. Caesar, who, with all his ambition, in- herited a large share of the benevolent af- fections, did not resolve on the decisive step which he had now taken without some com- punction of mind. Arrived with his army at the border of his province, he hesitated for some time, while he pictured to himself the inevitable miseries of that civil war in which he was now preparing to unsheath the sword. "If I pass this small stream," said he, " in what calamities must I involve my country ! Yet if I do not, I myself am ruined." The latter consideration was too powerful. Ambition, too, presented allure- ments which, to a mind like Caesar's, were irresistible. "The Die is Cast." His reflections became more interesting in proportion as the danger grew near. Stag- gered by the greatness of his attempt, he stopped to weigh within himself its incon- veniences ; and as he stood revolving in silence the arguments on both sides, he many times changed his opinion. After which he deliberated upon it with such of his friends as were by, among whom was Asinius Pollio ; enumerating the calamities which the passage of that i4ver would bring upon the world, and the reflections that might be made upon it by posterity. At last, upon some sudden impulse, bidding adieu to his reasonings, and plunging into the abyss of futurity, in the words of those who embark in doubtful and arduous enterprises, he cried out, " The die is cast ! " and immediately passed the river. Much has been said about the decided bearing of the early Scotch Presbyterians. Persecution, they said, could only kill the body, but indulgence was deadly to the soul. Driven from the towns, they assembled on heaths and mountains. Attacked by the civil power, they without scruple repelled force by force. At every conventicle they mustered in arms. They repeatedly broke out into open rebellion. They were easily defeated, and mercilessly punished ; but neither defeat nor punishment could subdue their spirit. Hunted down like wild beasts, tortured till their bones were beaten flat, im- prisoned by hundreds, hanged by scores, ex- posed at one time to the license of soldiers. 410 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. from England, abandoned at another time to the mercy of bands of marauders from the Highlands, they still stood at bay in a mood so savage that the boldest and mightiest op- pressor could not but dread the audacity of their despair. They were of fibre tough enough to suffer for a principle. This subject finds many examples in the history of our own land. In 1846 Colonel John C. Fremont determined to strike a blow for his country ; he urged the people of California, many of whom were Americans, to declare their independence. The hardy frontiersmen of the Sacramento valley flocked to his standard ; and a campaign -was at once begun to overthrow the Mexi- can authority. An American fleet had cap- tured the town of Monterey and San Diego. Before the end of summer the whole of the vast province was subdued and the authority of the United States was completely estab- lished. A country large enough for an em- pire had been conquered by a handful of resolute men. A Pocket Full. Bancroft, speaking of the opponents of royalty in England in the 17th century, says that self-preservation, uniting with ambition and wild enthusiasm, urged them to uncom- promising hostility with Charles I. He or they must perish. " If my head or the king's must fall," argued Cromwell, " can I hesitate which to choose ? " By an act of violence the Independents seized on the king, and held him in their special custody. " Now," said the exulting Cromwell — " now that I have the king in my hands I have the Parliament in my pocket." Here is another illustration from English history. The death of Strafford had been decreed, and great efforts were made to re- verse the edict. The Parliament was inflex- ible ; the Queen wept; England was in a ferment. Charles I., although ready to yield, still hesitated. The Queen Henrietta, of France, daughter of Henry IV., a beauti- ful and accomplished princess, for whom until his death the king preserved the fidel- ity of a husband and the passion of a lover, presented herself before him in mourning, accompanied by her little children. She besought him on her knees to yield to the vengeance of the people, which he couldnotresistwithout turning upontheinno- cent pledges of their love that death which he was endeavoring vainly to avert from a condemned head. " Choose," said she, " between your own life, mine, these dear children's and the life of this minister so hateful to the nation." Charles, struck with horror at the idea of sacrificing his beloved wife and infant chil- dren, the hopes of the monarchy, replied that he cared not for his own life, for he would willingly give it to save his minister ; but to endanger Henrietta and her children was beyond his strength and desire. He signed the death warrant of his chief mini- ster and faithful friend. A thrilling illustration of this virtue is here given, which is only one of many similar acts of heroic decision. The Engineer's Story. No, children, my trips are over, The engineer needs rest ; My hand is shaky ; I'm feeling A tugging pain i' my breast ; But here, as the twilight gathers, I'll tell you a tale of the road, That'll ring in my head forever, Till it rests beneath the sod. We were lumbering along in the twilight, The night was dropping her shade, And the ' ' Gladiator ' ' labored — Climbing the top of the grade ; DECISION. 411 The train was heavily laden, So I let my engine rest, Climbing the grading slowly. Till we reached the upland's crest. I held my watch to the lamplight — Ten minutes behind the time ! Lost in the slackened motion Of the up-grade's heavy climb ; But I knew the miles of the prairie That stretched a level track, So I touched the gauge of the boiler, And pulled the lever back. Over the rails a-gleaming, Thirty an hour, or so, The engine leaped like a demon, Breathing a fiery glow ; But to me — ahold of the lever — It seemed a child alway. Trustful and always ready My lightest touch to obey. I was proud, you know, of my engine, Holding it steady that night. And my eye on the track before us, Ablaze with the Drummond light. We neared a well-known cabin. Where a child of three or four, As the up train passed, oft called me, A playing around the door. My hand was firm on the throttle As we swept around the curve. When something afar in the shadow. Struck fire through every nerve. I sounded the brakes, and crashing The reverse lever down in dismay. Groaning to Heaven — eighty paces Ahead was the child at its play ! One instant — one, awful and only, The world flew round in my brain, And I smote my hand hard on my forehead To kef:^> back the terrible pain ; The *.rain I thought flying forever, With mad irresistible roll, ■^Tiile the cries of the dying, the night wind Swept into my shuddering soul. Then I stood on the front of the engine — How I got there I never could tell — My feet planted down on the crossbar, Where the cow-catcher slopes to the rail, One hand firmly locked on the coupler, And one held out in the night. While my eye gauged the distance, and measured The speed of our slackening flight. My mind, thank the Lord ! it was steady ; I saw the curls of her hair. And the face that, turning in wonder, Was lit by the deadly glare. I know little more — but I heard it — The groan of the anguished wheels. And remember thinking — the engine In agony trembles and reels. One rod ! To the day of my dying I shall think the old engine reared back, And as it recoiled, with a shudder I swept my hand over the track ; Then darkness fell over my eyelids, But I heard the surge of the train. And the poor old engine creaking, As racked by a deadly pain. They found us, they said, on the gravel, My fingers enmeshed in her hair. And she on my bosom a-climbing, To nestle securely there. We are not much given to crying — We men that run on the road — But that night they said, there were faces. With tears on them, lifted to God. For years in the eve and the morning As I neared the cabin again, My hand on the lever pressed downward And slackened the speed of the train. When my engine had blown her a greeting. She always would come to the door ; And her look with a fullness of heaven Blesses me evermore. A great deal of labor is lost to the world for the want of decision. Every day sends to their graves a number of obscure men, who have only remained in obscurity because their timidity has prevented them from mak- ing a first effort. HEROISM IN WELL-DOING. 412 CHAPT^E^R XXVTT. HEROISM IN WELL=DOINQ. N old times virtue and valor were synonymous. Valor, the old Roman valor, was worth, value. It was strength, force, available for noble purposes. He who best serves his fellow-creatures — who elevates them — who saves them — is the most valiant. There is also an inward valor — of con- science, of honesty, of self-denial, of self- sacrifice, of daring to do the right in the face of the world's contumely. Its chief characteristic is great-heartedness. Endur- ance and energy are the dual soul of worth, the true valor. The heroism whose theatre is the battle- field is not of the highest order. Amid the clash of bayonets and the boom of cannon men are incited to deeds of daring, and are ready to give their Jives for the good of their country. Women, whose province it seems to be to bear and forbear, are quite as capable of •endurance as men. In the blood-stained stories of war there is none, perhaps, that more enlists our hearts than that of the woman who put on male attire to follow her lover to the fight, stood by his side when he fell, and then braved death rather than be parted from his dead body. How many are there of these soldiers of the world, ever fighting the uphill battle of existence, ever striving for a position and never attaining one ; ever decimated by the artillery of necessity ; beaten back, discomfited, all but bopeless and despairing, and yet still return- ing to the charge ! Life with them is a long, hard conflict. The Christian hero is not incited by any such deeds of daring as the soldier hero. The arena on which he acts is not that of aggression or strife, but of suffering and self- sacrifice. No stars glitter on his breast, no banners wave over him. And when he falls, as he often does, in the performance of his duty, he receives no nation's laurels, no pompous mournings, but only the silent dropping of tears over his grave. The Best Men and Women. Man is not made for fame, or glory, or juccess ; but for something higher and greater than the world can give. " God hath given to man," says Jeremy Taylor, " a short time here upon earth, and yet upon this short time eternity depends. We must remember that we have many enemies to conquer, many evils to prevent, much danger to run through, many difficulties to be mastered, many necessities to be served, and much good to do." Self-sacrifice is the key-note of Christ- ianity. The best men and women have never been self-seekers. They have given themselves to others, without regard to glory or fame. They have found their best reward in the self-consciousness of duty performed. And yet many pass away with- out hearing the "well-done" of those whom they have served. "Do unto others as ye would they should do unto you," is a command of infinite application. And yet 413 414 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. it is not easy — at least for those who live in affluence or indifference — to carry out the obligation. There is not an unnecessary thing in existence, could we but understand it ; not one of our experiences of life but is full of signifiance, could we but see it. Even mis- fortune is often the surest touchstone of human excellence. The most celebrated poet of Germany has said "that he who has not eaten his bread in tears, who has not spent nights of pain weeping on his bed, does not yet know a heavenly power." When painful events occur they are, perhaps, sent only to try and prove us. If we stand firm in our hour of trial, this firmness gives serenity to the mind, which always feels sat- isfaction in acting conformably to duty. The Reward of Love. The opportunities of doing good come to all who work and .will. The earnest spirit finds its way to the hearts of others. Pa- tience and perseverance overcome all things. How many men, how many women too, volunteer to die without the applause of men. They give themselves up to visiting the poor ; they nurse the sick, suffer for them, and take the infectious diseases of which they die. Many a life has thus been laid down because of duty and mercy. They had no reward except that of love. Sacrifice, borne not for self but for others, is always sacred. Epimenedes, a philosopher and poet of Crete, was called to Athens in order to stay the plague. He went, and succeeded in arresting the pestilence, but refused any other reward beyond the good-will of the Athenians in favor of the inhabitants of Gnossus, where he dwelt. In olden times the plague was a frightful disease. People fled before it. They fled from each other. The plague-stricken were often left to die alone. Yet many noble and gentle men and women offered themselves up to stay the disease. Over three cen- turies ago the plague broke out in the city of Milan. Cardinal Charles Borromeo, the archbishop, was then (1576) staying at Lodi. He at once volunteered to go to the infected place. His clergy advised him to remain where he was, and to wait until the disease had exhausted itself He answered, " No ! A bishop, whose duty it is to give his life for his flock, cannot abandon them in their time of peril." "Yes," they repHed, "to stand by them is the higher course." " Well," he said, " is it not a bishop's duty to take the higher course? " And he went to Milan. His Example w^as Followed. The plague lasted about four months. During that time the Cardinal personally visited the sick, in their homes, in the hos- pitals, and everywhere. He watched over them, gave them food and medicine, and administered to them the last rites when dying. The example which he set was fol- lowed by his clergy, who ministered to the people with as much self-devotion as him- self And it was not until the last man died, and the last man recovered, that the good archbishop returned to his episcopal duties. The disease repeatedly visited England, at a time when the people were worse fed, and when the conditions of health were com- pletely disregarded. It proved most fatal in London, where the streets were narrow, foul, ill-ventilated, and badly supplied with water. Its last appearance was in 1665 ; it carried off 100,000 persons, when the population of London was not one-sixth of what it is now. It extended from London into the country. Though most people fled from the disease. 415 416 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. there were many instances of noble self-de- votion. Bishop Morton, of York, was one of these. He thought nothing of himself, but only of his flock. A pest-house or hospital was erected for the accommodation of the poorest. They were taken from their wretched homes, and carefully tended. Though it was difficult to find attendants, the bishop was always there. Like a soldier, he stood by his post. When food was wanted he rode out to his farm in the country and brought sacks of provisions on his horse for their use. He would not suffer his ser- vants to run the risk which he himself ran ; and not only saddled and unsaddled his horse, but had a private door made by which he could pass in and out without mixing with the people of the farm. All Given in Charity. Thus the plague was confined to York itself The bishop was a self-denying, gen- erous, and thoroughly good man. When his revenues were increased he expended all in charity, in hospitality, and in promoting every good work. His Hfe was one entire act of sincere piety and Christian benevo- lence. In London and Sydenham most of the doctors fled : but some self-denying men re- mained. Among these was Dr. Hodges, who stuck to his post. He continued in un- remitting attendance upon the sick. He did not derive any advantage from his self-deny- ing labors, except the approval of his own conscience. He fell into reduced circum- stances, was confined in Ludgate prison for debt, and died there in 1688. He left the best account of the last visit of the plague. From London, as we have said, the dis- ease extended to the country. In many re- mote country spots, places are pointed out in which, it is said, "they buried the plague." For instance, at the remote village of Eyam, in Derbyshire, a tailor received a box of clothes from London. While airing them at a fire he was seized with sickness, and died of plague on the fourth day. The disease spread. The inhabitants, only 350 in number, contemplated a general exodus ; but this was prevented by the heroism of the Rev. William Mompesson. He urged upon the people that they would spread the dis- ease far and wide, and they remained. He sent away his children, and wished to send away his delicate wife ; but she remained by the side of her husband. Driven to the Open Air. Mr. Mompesson determined to isolate the village, so that the plague should not extend into the surrounding districts. The Earl of Devonshire contributed all that was neces- sarp — including food, medicine, and other necessaries. In order not to bring the people together in the church, he held the services in the open air. He chose a rock in the valley for his writing-desk, and the people arranged themselves on the green slope opposite, so that he was clearly heard. The ravages of the plague continued for seven months. The congregation became less and less each time that it met. The rector and his wife were constantly among the sick, tending, nursing, and feeding them. At length the wife sickened with plague, and in her weak state she rapidly sank. She was buried, and the minister said over her grave, as he had done over so many of his parish- ioners, " Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord : even so saith the Spirit ; for they rest from their labors." The minister was ready to die, but he lived on in hope. Four-fifths of the inhabitants died, and were interred in a heathy hill above the village. "I may truly say," he HEROISM IN WELL-DOING. 417 said in a letter, " that our town has become a Golgotha, a place of skulls. There have been seventy-six families visited within my parish, out of which died 295 persons." Mr. Mom- pesson himself Hved to a good old age. He was offered the Deanery of Lincoln, but he declined it. He preferred to remain among his parishioners, and near the grave of his beloved wife. He died in 1708. The Plague Dug Up. Strange to say, some fifty years later, Tvhen some laboring men were digging near the place where " the plague had been buried," they came upon some linen, no doubt connected with the graves of the dead, when they were immediately stricken by typhus fever. Three of the men died, but the contagion spread through the village, and seventy persons were carried off The typhus seems to be the survival of the plague, and many are the towns of England where this terrible disease strikes off its thou- sands yearly. At Leeds upwards of forty years ago, there was an outbreak of typhus fever. It began in the poorest parts of the town, and spread to the richer quarters. In one yard twenty-eight persons had the fever in seven houses, three of which were without beds. It was the same in other yards and build- ings. In one house in which twelve had typhus, there was not a single bed. The House of Recovery and the Fever Hos- pital were completely full. A temporary wooden shed for a hospital was erected, and a mill was set apart for the reception of fever patients. Dr. Hook, then Vicar of Leeds, and the Rev. G. Hills (afterward Bishop of Columbia), visited these places daily. They adminis- tered every comfort and assistance in their power. The Catholic priests were most de- 27 voted. When .the plague of typhus broke out they went at once to minister to the poor. Into the densest pestilential abodes, where to breathe the poisoned air was death, they went fearlessly and piously. They were found at the bedsteads of the dying and the newly dead. No dangers daunted their resolute hearts. They saw death before them, but they feared him not. They caught the pestilence, and one by one they sickened and died. The Rev. Henry Walmsley, senior Catho- lic priest, first died. On the following day his junior died; he had been in Leeds only three weeks. Others pressed into the breach, as if a siege were to be won. They earnestly pleaded that they should be allowed to occupy the post of danger. The successor of Mr. Walmsley next fell a victim. Two others died, making five in all. A simple monument was erected to their memory, as men " who fell victims to fever in discharge of their sacred duties in 1847." They Brave Death. Surgeons and medical men are always in contact with diseases, no matter how infec- tious. These men brave death in all its aspects, often without the slightest hope of reward. Wherever they are called they go, unshrinkingly doing their duty, sometimes even unthanked. They spend and are spent, labor and toil, till their strength fails and their heart sickens ; and then the fever fastens on them and they are carried off. Heroes such as these pass silently through life, and fame never reaches them. The greatest heroes of all are men whom the world knows not of Surgeons have done their duty on the field as well as in the dweUings of the poor. They have gone out under fire, and brought back the wounded soldiers to be dressed and 418 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. cared for. The French surgeon Larrey was quite a hero in this respect. During the retreat from Moscow he was seen performing an operation literally under the fire of the enemy. He had only a camp cloak to pro- tect the patient. It was held over him in the manner of an awning to protect him during the falling snow. In another case, which happened on the burning sands of Egypt, the dashing httle surgeon showed a similar ardor. An engage- ment with the English had just occurred, and among the wounded was General Silly, whose knee was ground by a bullet. Larrey, perceiving that fatal results might ensue un- less the limb was amputated at once, pro- posed amputation. The general consented to the operation, which was performed under the enemy's fire in the space of three minutes. The Surgeon and the Officer. But lo ! the English cavalry were ap- proaching. What was then to become of the French surgeon and his dear patient? "I had scarce time," said Larrey, "to place the wounded officer on my shoulders and to carry him rapidly away toward our army, which was in full retreat. I spied a series of ditches, some of them planted with caper bushes, across which I passed, while the cavalry were obliged to go by a more cir- cuitous route in that intersected country. Thus I had the happiness to reach the rear- guard of our army before this corps of dragoons. At length I arrived with this honorably wounded officer at Alexandria, where I completed his cure." Here is another hero. Doctor Salsdorf, Saxon surgeon to Prince Christian, had his leg shattered by a shell at the beginning of the battle of Wagram. While laid on the ground he saw, about fifteen paces from him, M. de Kerbourg, the aide-de-camp, who, struck by a bullet, had fallen and was vomiting blood. The surgeon saw that the officer must speedily die unless promptly helped. He summoned together all his power, dragged himself along the ground until he approached the officer, bled him, and saved his life. De Kerbourg could not embrace his benefactor. The wounded doctor was removed to Vienna, but he was so much exhausted that he only survived four days after the amputation of his leg. The Wounded Must Fly. On the advance of an army it is usual to bring up the wagons in the rear for the accommodation of the wounded. When the men fall they are carried back to the surgeon to be attended to. If the army is driven back, the surgeons and the wounded have to fly, or be taken prisoners. On the occasion of the battle of the Alma the Rus- sians fled, and the British and French fol- lowed. A large number of wounded men had been left. Several hundred Russians were brought to the eastern part of the field, where they were laid down in rows on a sheltered spot of ground near the river. Happily there was a surgeon at head- quarters whose sense of honor and duty was supported by a strong will, by resistless energy, and by a soundness of judgment and command of temper rarely united with great activity. This was Dr. Thompson, of the 44th Regiment. Though the country was abandoned by the Russians, he succeeded in getting 400 pounds of biscuit and the num- ber of hands needed to sustain him in his undertaking. He immediately had the wounded fed, for they had had no susten- ance during twenty-four hours. Then he attended to the dressing of their wounds. This occupied him from seven in the evening HEROISM IN WELL-DOING. 419 until half-past eleven at night, yet he icept steadily at his work. By this time the soldiers had left to carry the English wounded back to the ships at Eupatoria. And then Dr. Thompson and his servant, John McGrath, remained among the Russian wounded. They remained there for three days and three nights alone, amid the scorching sun by day and the steel-cold stars by night. At length the opportunity occurred for embarking the Russians and sending them to a Russian port under a flag of truce. " When at length," says Mr. Kinglake, " on the morning of the 26th, Captain Lushing- ton, of the Albion, came up from the shore and discovered his two fellow-countrymen at their dismal post of duty, he was filled with admiration at their fortitude, and with sym- pathy for what they had endured." Held Out to the End. In like manner Dr. Kay, the surgeon of the hospital at Benares, during the Indian Mutiny, stood by his post at the risk of his life, for the enemy were advancing to destroy him as well as his suffering patients. Every one remembers the dreadful events at Cawn- pore, where every one perished, to the last man, the last woman, and the last child. Yet the British held out to the end, under the withering fire of the mutinous Sepoys. " It is hard to believe," says Rev. Robert Collyer, of New York, " any man, as a rule, more empty of what we call religion than the common soldier. His whole life, poor fellow ! makes it very hard for him to have any sense of it, and he has very little. But it has come out, since the great Sepoy Rebellion in India, that numbers of these men in the English army were offered the alternative of renouncing the Chrisian religion and embracing that of the rebels or being murdered by all the horrible ways that the hate and rage of the heathen can invent. " It is believed that they died to a man ; not one instance as yet has come to light of any common soldier giving way. He was a man belongirfg to the Christian side, and the pincers could not tear that simple manliness out of his heart, or the fire burn it out. And so there may be manliness where there is little grace, or if by grace you mean that gracious thing, a pure and holy life and a conscious religion." An Outbreak of Cholera. And here let us mention the self-devotion of two non-commissioned officers during the outbreak of cholera at Moultan. In the absence of women they nursed the sick and the dying. They worked day and night ire the cholera hospital. Corporal Derbyshire at last broke down from sheer fatigue, but his place was supplied by others. The other non-commissioned . officer. Corporal Hopper, volunteered for hospital duty at Topah, where he earned the gratitude of both the medical and military authorities. The surgeons were always at their task in both places, braving death at every moment. When the commander-in-chief visited Moultan, shortly after, he publicly thanked Derbyshire and Hopper in the midst of their admiring comrades. But the same quality is sometimes dis- played amid the fire of shot and shell. At the siege of Cadiz by the French in 18 12 men and women were killed in the streets, at the windows, and in the recesses of their houses. When a shell was thrown by the enemy, a single toll of the great bell was the signal for the inhabitants to be on their guard. One day a solemn toll was heard in signal of a shell. That very shell fell furiously on the bell and shivered it to 420 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. atpms. The monk whose duty it was to sound it went and tolled the other bell. The good man had conquered the fear of death. But a singular act of bravery on the part of a woman was displayed during the same siege. Matagorda was a small outlaying fort without a ditch or bomb-proof. Within this fort 140 English troops were stationed, for the purpose of impeding the completion of the French works. A Spanish seventy- four and an armed flotilla co-operated in the defence, but a hitherto masked battery opened upon the ships, and, after inundating them with hot shot, drove them for shelter to Cadiz harbor. A Sergeant's Noble Wife. Forty -eight guns and mortors of the largest size concentrated their fire upon the little fort. The feeble parapet at once van- ished before the crashing flight of shot and shell, leaving only the naked rampart and the undaunted hearts of the garrison. For thirty hours this tempest lasted ; and now occurs the anecdote of the woman of Mata- gorda. A sergeaJit's wife, named Retson, was in a casemate nursing a wounded man. The patient wasi thirsty, and wanted something to drink. She called to a drummer boy, and asked him to go to the well and fetch a pail of water. The boy hesitated, because he knew that the well was raked by the shot and she;ll.of the enemy. She snatched the bucket from his hand and went herself to the well. She braved the terrible cannonade, went down to the well, filled the bucket with water, and, though a shot cut the cord from her hand, she recovered it, went back with ^he water for her patient, and fulfilled her mission. The shot fell upon the doomed fort thick and close. A staff bearing the Spanish flag was cut down six times in an hour. At length Sir Thomas Graham, finding the defence impracticable, sent a detachment of boats to carry off the survivors. A bastion was blown up under the direction of Major Lefebre. But he also fell, the last man who wet with his blood the ruins thus abandoned. The boats were then filled, and the men returned to Cadiz. They were accompanied by the heroic women of Matagorda. Florence Nightingale. Can any one believe that women can un- dertake to nurse soldiers in time of war? And yet it is done bravely and nobly. Nurses used to be taken from the same class as ordinary domestic servants. It was not until Miss Nightingale, by her noble devo- tion to the care of the sick and wounded, had made for herself an honored place in history, that people began to realize that nursing was a thing to be learned — that it required intelligence, willingness and fitness, as well as charity, affection and love. " It has been said and written scores of times," says Miss Nigtingale, "that every woman makes a good nurse. I believe, on the con- trary, that the elements of nursing are all but unknown." But how came it that she devoted herself to the profession of nursing? Simply from a feeling of love and duty. She need never have devoted herself to so trying and dis- agreeable an occupation. She was an ac- complished young lady, possessing abundant means. She was happy at home, a general favorite, and the centre of an admiring circle. She was blessed with everything that might have made social and domestic life precious. But she abjured all such considerations,, and preferred to tread the one path that leads HEROISM IN WELL-DOING. 421 to suffering and sorrow. She had always a yearning affection for her kind. She taught in the schools, she visited the poor, and, when they were sick, she fed and nursed them. It was in a little corner of England that she lived and worked — Embley in Hampshire ; but one can do as much good work in secret as in the light of day. Her Heart in Her Work. The gay world opened before her. She might have done what other young ladies do in town. But her heart led her elsewhere. She took an interest in the suffering, the lost, and the downtrodden. She visited the hospitals, the jails, and the reformatory insti- tutions. While others were spending de- lightful holidays in Switzerland or Scotland, or by the seashore, she was engaged in a German nursing school or in a German hos- pital. She began at the beginning. She learned the use of the washing cloth, the scrubbing brush and the duster ; and she proceeded by degrees to learn the art of nursing. For three months she continued in daily and nightly attendance on the sick, and thus accumulated a considerable experi- ence in the duties and labors of the hospital ward. On Miss Nightingale's return to England she continued her labors. The Hospital for Sick Governesses was about to fail for want of proper management, and she undertook its care. She denied herself the affection of her home, and the fresh breath of the country air, to devote herself to the dreary hospital in Harley Street, where she gave her help, time and means to the nursing of her sick sisters. Though the institution was saved, her health began to fail under the heavy pressure, and she betook herself for a time to the health-giving breezes of Hampshire. But a new cry arose for help. The Crimean War was raging. There was a great want of skilled nurses. The wounded soldiers were lying at the hospitals on the Bosphorus almost uncared for. She obeyed her noble impulses, and at once went to their help. She embarked in a ship bound for Scutari. It was at great risk — at the risk of life, hardships, dangers and perils of all sorts. But who thinks of risk when duty impels the brave spirit ? Miss Nightingale undertook everything that was asked of her. She went into the midst of human suffering, nursed the wounded soldiers and sailors, organized the system of nursing, and under- took the control of the whole. Kissed Her Very Shadow. The wounded were inexpressibly relieved by the patient watching and care of the English lady. The soldiers blessed her as they saw her shadow falling over their pil- lows at night. They did not know her name; they merely called her " The Lady of the Lamp." " He sleeps ! Who o'er his placid slumber bends ?' His foes are gone, and here he hath no friends. Is it some seraph sent to grant him grace ? No ! 'Tis an earthly form with human face ! ' ' The soldiers worshipped the maiden lady. They forbore from the expression of any rough language that might hurt her. When an operation was necessary, they bore the agony without flinching. They did all they could to follow her advice and example. She, on her part, took quite an affection for the common soldiers. She not only looked after their personal comfort, but corre- sponded with their friends in England, in Ireland and in the far-away straths of Scot- land. She saved their money. She devoted an afternoon every week to receive and for- ward their savings to their friends at home. 422 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. How thankful the soldiers were ! And how thoughtful and careful she was of them ! "The simple courage," she says, " the en- during patience, the good sense, the strength to suffer in silence — what nation shows more of this in war than is shown by our com- monest soldiers? Say what men will, there is something more truly Christian in the man who gives his time, his strength, his life if need be, for something not himself — whether it be his queen, his country or his colors — than in all the asceticism, the fasts, the humiliations, the confessions, which have ever been made; and this spirit of giving one's life, without calling it a sacrifice, is found nowhere so truly as in England." Thus we have much to learn from the life and example even of the commonest soldier! Another Heroine. Miss Stanley followed Miss Nightingale to the Crimea. A second detachment of fifty nurses and ladies were confided to her charge. She took them to Constantinople, and she remained in Turkey for four months, assisting in the naval hospital at Therapeia, and afterward in establishing the military hospital at Koulalee. When she saw the wounded soldiers brought from Inkerman, she wrote to a friend at home : " I know not which sight is the most heart-rending ; to witness fine strong men worn down by exhaustion, and sinking under it, or others coming in fear- fully wounded. The whole of yesterday was spent in sewing mattresses together, then in washing and assisting the surgeon to dress their wounds, and seeing the poor fel- lows made as comfortable as the circum- stances would admit of, after five days' con- finement on board ship, during which their wounds were not dressed. Out of the eleven wards committed to my charge. eleven men died in the night simply from exhaustion, which, humanly speaking, might have been stopped, could I have laid my hands upon such nourishment as I know they ought to have had." On Miss Stanley's return to England she devoted herself to befriending the soldiers' wives and widows. She purchased a house and garden in York Street, Westminster, where she founded a large industrial laun- dry. She obtained a contract from the gov- ernment for the supply of army clothing, and thus secured a large amount of employ- ment for the forlorn women. Miss Stanley threw herself with great energy into the relief and nursing of the women of the London poor. She was only one where there ought to have been ten thousand, but the true woman finds and does the work that lies nearest her. She gave her life daily to the service of others. She was an embodiment of self-sacrifice. Sublime Resignation. It did not matter whether she secured the approbation of others or not. To some, who wished to tread the steps she had trod, she said : " Never forget Dr. Arnold. I repeat his last entry in his journal to myself twice every day: ' Let me labor to do God's will, yet not anxious that it should be done by me rather than by others ; if God so wills, it should be.' " Good example always brings forth good fruits. Other ladies followed faithfully in the same steps. Among these may be mentioned Miss Florence Lees, who has not only nursed in the field, but taught to others the duties of scientific nursing. Strange how the first impulse to do a good thing springs up in the heart. It was the loss of a dear brother in China that nerved her for the effort. He had died in the naval hospital at HEROISM IN WELL-DOING. 423 Shanghai, and, as she thought of him, tended by strangers' hands, she felt a great longing to do for others what others had done for him. This happened when she was a girl. The late Bishop of Winchester was consulted. He said that it was too early to devote her- self to such a mission. "Wait until your grief has passed away, wait till your mind has matured." But her mind was possessed by resolution and hope. Miss Nightingale was her heroine. She consulted her, and ob- tained from her the best advice and help as to her training. At last, after three years' waiting, she entered St. Thomas' Hospital, and began her training as a nurse. She afterward went to King's College Hospital, and acquired valuable practical experience. To complete her knowledge of nursing she spent several years in Holland, Denmark, Germany and France. At Kaiserworth, in Germany, she passed through the usual prac- tical training of a nursing deaconess, and received a certificate as to her efficiency. In the Hospitals of Paris. Through the kindness of M. Hasson, the Director-General of civil hospitals in France, she obtained permission to work in the chief hospitals of Paris, under the charge of Roman Catholic Sisters. It was with great satisfaction to the Sisters, and with great happiness to herself, that she worked so harmoniously with them, notwithstanding their differences of religion and thought. The kindness of the Sisters to her, per- sonally, was beyond words. She was, in- deed, treated by them more as a sister and friend than as one separated from them by creed, country and secular life. In addi- tion to the practical knowledge thus gained, she learned from them many a lesson of quiet cheerfulness under difiliculties, of hope and trust in an overruling Providence, even when all things seemed going wrong, and of firm self-denial and an utter giving up of themselves and all that they had to Him whose they were and whom they served. Here, too, she learned what a virtue cheer- fulness is for all those who would serve and nurse the sick. A French Official. Miss Lees' last and most valuable train- ing was obtained through the kind permis- sion of General Leboeuf, then French Min- ister of War. Through his influence she was permitted to work in the French Mili- tary Hospitals, a training which was doubly valuable through the interest taken in her improvement by the late Michel Levy, the Director-General. He had been what he termed a "comrade" of Miss Nightingale ip the Crimea, and for her sake he made Miss Lees pass through a severer course of dis- cipline and training than, he admitted, would have been possible for any French Soeur or, as a general rule, for many Englishwomen. The practical experience, however, which she derived through the personal kindness of M. Michel Levy, was so valuable that in the course of her after life it was never forgotten. Shortly after her return to England after this long probation in nursing, war was de- clared between France and Germany. The newspapers were full of the results of the first sanguinary battles. The conquering army swept on and left the wounded to die. They lay in the open air by thousands, un- tended and uncared for. The nurse's heart was roused by pity and by sympathy. She at once set out for the Continent, accom- panied by three German ladies, but they were soon detached in different directions. She went across Belgium to Cologne, where she saw the wounded soldiers lying in rows 424 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. along the station platform. Then to Cob- lentz and Treves, and then to Metz, which was her station. It was a rough journey when she left the steamer. In the midst of the confusion she had lost her baggage, but she was there herself alone. Marshal Bazaine had taken refuge in Metz, with a large body of French troops, and Prince Frederick was investing the city with an army of Germans and Bavarians. Miss Lees was appointed to a hospital at Marangue, in the rear of the investing army. She reached the place. It was only an old farm-steading. The barn was the hospital. It was a very comfortless place. The accom- modation was miserable. The nurse slept on a bit of sacking filled with straw. There was little medicine and less food. The prin- cipal disease to be encountered was typhus fever, occasioned by the dampness of the trenches. The Lazaretto or hospital accom- modated twenty-two beds ; and these were always full. In the Fever Hospital. The nurse of a field-hospital has no light task before her. When the men came in fever-stricken, they had first to be cleaned. When they came from the trenches, their feet were so incrusted with dirt that it had to be scraped off before they could be washed. When cleansed, they were put into their beds, and had medicine administered to them. There was the washing out of the men's blackened mouths, the attention to their personal cleanliness, the wetting of their heads by night to keep down delirium, bathing their hands and faces, changing their couches to prevent bed-sores — and all this in the midst of the most depressing circum- stances. The men sometimes became furiously de- lirious. Miss Lees has herself told the story of her life in the Fever Hospital before Metz, One night she was alone. She heard a noise in the room upstairs. She went up and found a deHrious soldier trying to force the door. The poor fellow wished to go home to his "liebe mutter." She called another patient to her help, and, telling him he would go home to-morrow, got him into his bed again. Another delirious soldier, down-stairs, searched for a knife under his bed-fellow's pillow. Miss Lees got hold of the knife, which was really there, and hid it in some obscure place. But, when the surgeon came round, she entreated that she might not again be left alone in the hospital at night. Appealed to the Crown Princess. The nurse worked there for many weeks'. Many died, some were cured and invalided home, and a few returned to duty. At last Bazaine surrendered ; his prisoners were sent into Germany, and the Red Prince and his troops marched on to the siege of Paris, Miss Lees had done her work at Metz, but her self-imposed task was not over. She was taken, partly on a locomotive engine, to Homburg, where she was put in charge of an hospital of wounded soldiers, under the superintendence of the Crown Princess of Prussia. The principal difficulty she had to encounter there was in securing proper ven- tilation. German doctors hate draughts. So soon as the nurse opened a window the doctors, in her absence, ordered it to be closed. She then appealed to the Crown Princess, and at length obtained the proper ventilation. It is unnecessary to follow the history of Miss Lees. After her return from Germany she prepared to make a voyage to Canada and the United States, to inspect the hospi- tals there. She accomplished her object in HEROISM IN WELL-DOING. 425 the winter of 1873, and saw everything that was to be seen at Halifax, Quebec, Mont- real, Toronto, Cleveland, New York, Bos- ton, Philadelphia, Washington and Anna- polis. Many women, young and old, nobly de- vote themselves to work such as this. They go into the courts and alleys of our towns and cities and nurse those who might lie and die but for their services. Neither hands nor their minds are stained by performing the humblest and most repeUing offices for their suffering fellow-creatures. Look at the noble examples of brave self-sacrificing women who, in our civil war, devoted them- selves on the battle-field to the care of the wounded and the dying. All the annals of heroism furnish no deeds more illustrious or more noble. The names of these devoted heroines are among the brightest in our country's history. The Profession of Nurse. Look also in our great hospitals and see the self-denying young women who are schooling themselves in the great art of nursing the sick. This is fast becoming a profession, and it illustrates the noblest and grandest qualities of womanhood. There is a great deal of heroism in com- mon life that is never known. There is, perhaps, more heroism among the poor than among the rich. The former have greater sympathy with their neighbors. A street beggar said that he always got more cop- pers from the poor street girls than from anybody else. Virtue commands respect even in a beggar's garb. "Men talk about heroes and the heroic element," says Mr. Binney ; "there is abund- ance of room for the display of the latter in many positions of obscure city life, and many of the former have lived and worked nobly. though unknown. The noblest biographies have not always been written. There have been great, heroic men, who have toiled on in their daily duties, and suffered, and sacri- ficed, and kept their integrity; who served God, and helped their connections, and got on themselves ; who have displayed, in all this, qualities of character, of mind, cour- age, goodness, that would have honored a bishop, a general, or a judge." The Rescue. Striking examples may be given — of men and women devoting themselves to rescue the lives of shipwrecked mariners at sea. A story comes to us from Western Australia telling us of the brave deeds of a young gentlewoman — Grace Vernon Bussell. The steamer Georgette had stranded on the shore near Perth. A boat was got out with the women and children on board, but it was swamped by the surf, which was running very high. The poor creatures were all struggling in the water, clinging to the boat, and in imminent peril of their lives, when, on the top of a steep cliff, appeared a young lady on horseback. Her first thought was how to save these drowning women and children. She gal- loped down the cHff — how, it is impossible to say — urged her horse into the surf, and, beyond the second line of the breakers, she reached the boat. She succeeded in bring- ing the women and children on shore. There was still a man left, and she plunged into the sea again, and rescued him. So fierce was the surf that four hours were occupied in landing fifty persons. As soon as they were on shore the heroic lady, drenched with sea-foam, and half fainting with fatigue, galloped off to her home, twelve miles distant, to send help and relief to the rescued people on the sea-beach. il ni The Bivouac of the Dead. ''HE muiBed drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo ; No more on life's parade shall meet The brave and fallen few. On fame's eternal camping-ground Their silent tents are spread, And glory guards with solemn round The bivouac of the dead. Thus 'neath their parent turf they rest, Far from the gory field. Borne to a Spartan mother's breast On many a bloody shield. The sunshine of their native sky Shines sadly on them here, And kindred eyes and hearts watch by The heroes' sepulchre. Yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone In deathless song shall tell. When many a vanished year hath flown, The story how ye fell ; Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight. Nor time's remorseless doom, Can dim one ray of holy light That gilds your glorious tomb. Theodore O'Hara. HEROISM IN WELL-DOING. 427 Her sister now took up the work. She went back through the woods to the shore, taking with her a provision of tea, milk, sugar and flour. Next day the rescued were brought to her house, and cared for until they were sufficiently recovered to depart on their solitary ways. It is melan- choly to have to record that Mrs. Brook- man, the heroine's sister, took cold in the midst of her exertions, and died of brain fever. The Last Boat. Not less brave was the conduct of a young woman in the Shetlands, who went to sea to save the lives of some fishermen, when no one else would volunteer to go. A violent storm had broken over the remote island of Unst, when the fishing fleet — the chief stay of the inhabitants — was at sea. One by one the boats reached the haven in safety ; but the last boat was still out, and it was observed by those ashore that she was in great difficulties. She capsized, and the sailors were seen struggling in the water. At this juncture Helen Petrie, a slender lass, stepped forward and urged that an attempt to rescue them should be made at all hazards. The men said it was certain death to those who wished to put off in such a storm. Nevertheless, Helen Petrie was willing to brave death. She hastily stepped into a small boat. Her sister-in-law joined her; and her father, lame of one hand, went in to take charge of the rudder. Two of the crew of the fishing-boat had already disap- peared, but two remained, clinging to the upturned keel of their craft. It was these the women went to save. After great exertions, they reached the wreck. Just as they approached it one of the men was washed off, and he would cer- tainly have been drowned had not Helen caught him by his hair and dragged him into the boat. The other man was also res- cued, and the whole returned to the haven in safety. Helen Petrie afterward earned her bread in obscurity as a domestic servant, until her death some time later reminded people who knew her story of her existence. Heroines must, one would suppose, be abundant in a country where such a thing could happen. And Grace Darling ! Who can forget her — the heroic woman of the Longstone Lighthouse ? The desolate Fern Islands lie off the northeast coast of Northumberland — a group of stern basaltic rocks, black and bare, with a dangerous sea roaring about them. In stormy weather they are inaccessi- ble for day.3 and weeks together. They have no other inhabitants but the gulls and puffins that scream about the rocks. But on the farthest point, the Longstone Rock, a lighthouse had been erected to warn off the ships passing between England and Scot- land. Two old persons — a man and his wife — and a young woman, their daughter, were the keepers of the ' lighthouse, on a wild night in September, 1838. On the Rocks. The steamer Forfarshire was on its voyage from Hull to Dundee. The ship was in bad condition. The boilers were so defective that the fires had to be extinguished shortly after she left Hull. Nevertheless, she toiled on until she reached St. Abb's Head, when a terrible storm drove her back. She drifted through the night before the wind, until, in the early morning, she struck with tremen- dous force on the Hawkers rocks. The ship broke her back, and snapped in two. Nine of the crew took possession of a boat, and drifted through the only outlet by which it could have escaped ; they were 428 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. picked up at sea and taken into Shields. Most of the passengers and crew were swept into the sea and drowned. The fore part of the vessel remained stuck on the rock ; it was occupied by nine persons, crying for help. Their cries were heard by Grace Darling at the lighthouse, half a mile off. It was the last watch before extinguishing the light at sunrise, and Grace was keeping it. Although the fog was still prevailing, and the sea was still boisterous, she saw the wrecked passen- gers clinging to the windlass in the fore part of the vessel. She entreated her father to let down the boat and go to sea to rescue the drowning people. William Darling de- clared that it would be rushing upon certain death. Yet he let down the boat, and Grace Darling was the first to enter it. The old man followed. Why speak of danger ? The chances of rescue, of self-preservation, were infinitesimal. But God strengthened the woman's arm, as He had visited her heart ; and away the two went, in dread and awe. The Nine Survivors. By dint of great care and vigilance the father succeeded in landing on the rock and making his way to the wreck, while Grace rowed off and on among the breakers, keep- ing her boat from being dashed to pieces. One by one the nine survivors were placed in the boat and carried to the lighthouse. There the mother was ready to receive them, to nurse them, to feed them, and to restore them to health and strength. They re- mained there for three days, until the storm abated, and they could be carried to the mainland. The spirit of the nation was stirred by the heroic act. Gifts innumerable were sent to Grace Darling. Artists came from a dis- tance to paint her portrait. Wordsworth wrote a poem about her. She was offered one hundred dollars a night to sit in a boat at the Adelphi Theatre during a shipwreck scene. But she would not leave her sea-girt rock. Why should she leave the light- house ? What place so fitting to hold this queen ? One who visited her speaks of her genuine simplicity, her quiet manner, her genuine goodness. Visit from a Duchess. Three years after the rescue symptoms of consumption appeared. In a few months she died, quietly, happily, religiously. Short- ly before her death, she received a farewell visit from one of her own sex, who came in humble attire to bid her Godspeed on her last journey. The good sister was the Duch- ess of Northumberland, and her coronet will shine the brighter for all time because of that affectionate and womanly leave-taking. Joan of Arc has her monument. Let Grace of Northumbria have none. The deed is regis- tered " In the rolls of Heaven, where it will live, A theme for angels when they celebrate The high-souled virtues which forgetful earth Has witnessed." On the mainland of Northumberland, nearly opposite the Fern Islands, stands the Castle of Bamborough, on a high triangular rock. In olden times it was a strong defence against the incursions of the Scots, as well as an important fortress during the civil wars of England. Of late years it has been used as a refuge for shipwrecked mariners, chiefly through the instrumentality of Lord Crewe, Bishop of Durham, and Archdeacon Sharpe. Lord Crewe's noble appropriation of this castle has been productive of more good than any private benefaction in this country. Shipwrecks frequently occur along the coast, and every possible aid is given to the suffer- HEROIS^I IN WELL-DOING. 429 ers. .'*._partinents are fitted up for thirty mariners. A constant patrol is kept every stormy night along the eight miles of coast, and if a ship appears in danger the life -boat is launched. During fogs bells are rung to keep off the vessels. When a ship is observed in distress a gun is fired, and a second time if the vessel is stranded or wrecked upon the rocks. At the same time a large flag is hoisted, so that the sufferers may know that their distress is observed from the shore. There are also signals to the Holy Islands fishermen, who can put off from the islands at times when no boat from the mainland can get over the breakers. Every help is given to those on land as well as at sea by this Samaritan Castle on the cliffs. Brave Ida Lewis. "Thus, like a mighty guardian angel," says WiUiam Howitt, " stands aloft this noble castle, the watching spirit over those stormy and perilous seas, and this godlike charity lives, a glorious example of what good a man may continue to do upon earth for ages after he has quitted it. When any one sees at a distance the soaring turrets of this truly sacred fabric, majestic in its aspect as it is divine in its office, dispensing daily benefits over both land and sea, let him bless the memory of Lord Crewe, as thousands and tens of thousands, in the depths of poverty, and in the horrors of midnight darkness, have had occasion to do, and as they shall do when we, like him, sleep in the dust." Worthy to rank with the immortal name of Grace Darling is that of our own Ida Lewis, whose courage often braved the storm and whose strong arm often pulled the oar, that meant rescue to the shipwrecked sailor. Daughter of the sea, she exhibited the noblest heroism in facing danger to save im- perilled Hves. No lines are fine enough in which to write herthrilling story. Thesimple- hearted girl was none the less womanly because made of iron fabric. She puts to shame the empty lives of multitudes of women who do nothing but eat, dress and die, with- out the record of one noble deed. Patience is the exercise Of saints, the trial of their fortitude ; Making them each his own deliverer, And victor over all That tyranny or fortune can inflict. John Mii,ton. For still we hope That in a world of larger scope, What here is faithfully begun Will be completed, not undone. A. H. Clottgh. But all through life I see a cross Where sons of God yield up their breath : There is no gain except by loss, There is no life except by death, There is no vision but by faith, Nor glory but by bearing shame. Nor justice but by taking blame ; And that Eternal Passion saith, Be emptied of glory and right and name. Oi,RiG Grange. It is related of the Duke of Wellington that when a certain chaplain asked him whether he thought it wofth while to preach the Gospel to the Hindoos, the man of dis- cipline asked, "What are your marching orders?" The chaplain replied: "Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature." "Then follow your orders," said the Duke; "your only duty is to obey." Though an unwelcome, an unpopular and a perilous duty, there have been found men in all ages who have followed the directions of their Saviour. Christ preached to the Jews and the Gentiles. St. Paul was the first missionary apostle. He founded churches 430 THE' CARDINAL VIRTUES. in the East, at Corinth, at Ephesus, at Thes- salonica, and elsewhere, and left his bones at Rome, where he had gone to preach the Gospel. The career of a missionary is the most dutiful and heroic of all. He carries his life in his hand. He braves danger and death. He lives among savages, sometimes among cannibals. Money could not buy the devotion with which he encounters peril and misery. He is only upheld by the mis- sion of mercy with which he is charged. What are called "advanced thinkers" have nothing to offer us for the self-imposed work of missionaries at home and abroad. Mere negation teaches nothing. It may pull down, but it cannot build up. It may shake the pillars of faith and leave nothing to hold by, nothing to sanctify, to elevate, or to strengthen our natures. Ready to Perish. But savage human nature is "vile." "How can they be vile to us," said Bishop Selwyn, "who have been taught by God not to call any man common or unclean? I quarrel not with the current phrases of 'poor heathen' and 'the perishing savages.' Far poorer and more ready to perish may be those men of Christian countries who have received so much and can account for so little. Poorest of all may we be our- selves, who, as stewards and ministers of the grace of God, are found so unfaithful in our stewardship. To go among the heathen as an equal and a brother is far more profitable than to risk that subtle kind of self-righteous- ness which creeps into the mission work akin to the thanking God that we are not as other men are." How much are we indebted to St. Augus- tine, the first missionary into England, for our Anglo-Saxon liberty, our integrity, our learning, and even our missionary enterprise I At the end of the sixth century Augustine, or Austin, was consecrated by Pope Gre- gory, and entitled beforehand Bishop of England. He proceeded on his mission, and, after pjissing through France, he landed at Thanet, accompanied by a number of monks. He was received by Ethelbert, King of Kent, at Canterbury. The king had married a Christian wife, and, partly- through her influence, he became baptized, and was afterward admitted to the Church. The missionary labors of Augustine extended throughout the country until, at his death in 605, the greater part of England was re- deemed from paganism. A Famous Missionary. Missionaries entered the south of Africa and made their way to the north amid difficulties innumerable. They lived among the natives, and gave their minds and hearts and souls to them, endeavoring to bring them to a belief in the loving doctrines of Christianity. Men of education, accus- tomed to the comforts and conveniences of civilized life, endured privations of the most severe kind, which were all the harder to bear as they fell upon their wives and chil- dren. No motives of gain could support them in such a position. Dr. Moffat crossed the Orange River, in 1820, as a missionary to the Bechuana tribes. When Moffat went among these tribes he did not know their language, and he had none to teach him. Unmindful of their abominations, and fearless of their ferocity, he lived entirely among the natives. He walked, he slept, he wandered, he hunted, he rested, he ate, he drank with them, till he thoroughly mastered their language, and then he began to preach to them the Gospel. He labored on among difficulties and afflic- HEROISM IN WELL-DOING. 431 tions of all kinds, occasionally attended by threats of murder, without any apparent tokens of success. At length they believed in him and in the healing words he taught. The once naked, filthy savages became clothed and cleanly. Idleness gave place to industry-. They built houses and cultivated gardens. Provisions for the wants of the mind kept pace with those of the body ; they reared schools for the young, and chapels for the old. And thus the work of education and religion rapidly advanced. Moffat was followed by Livingstone, his son-in-law, who gave his life to the same work. Livingstone opened up the heart of Africa, and trod the lands of savage tribes where the foot of the white man had never trod before. He travelled thousands of miles among savage beasts, and still more savage men, and was often delivered from danger almost by the "skin of his teeth ;" but he never doubted in the success of the Gospel, even among the degraded. He did not live to see the outbreak of war in South Africa, and to hear of the thousands of men who were slain in resisting the attempt to annex their territories — a most deplorable sacrifice of innocent lives. Men, even savage men, judge each other by their deeds, not by their words. Profess- ing Christians, like venders of bad coinage,, often expose genuine religion to suspicion. "In true kindness of heart," said Dr. Guthrie, "sweetness of temper, open-handed generosity, the common charities of life, many mere men of the world lose nothing by comparison with such professors ; and how are you to keep the world from saying, 'Ah ! your man of religion is no better than others ; nay, he is sometimes worse ? ' "With what frightful prominence does this stand out in the never-to-be-forgotten answer of an Indian chief to the missionary who' urged him to become a Christian. The plumed and painted savage drew himself up in the consciousness of superior rectitude, and with indignation quivering on his lip and flashing in his eye, he replied, ' Christian lie ! Christian cheat ! Christian steal, drink, murder ! Christian has robbed me of my lands and slain my tribe ! ' Adding, as he haughtily turned away, ' The Devil, Christian I I will be no Christian ! ' May such reflec- tions teach us to be careful how we make a religious profession ! And having made the profession, cost what it may, by the grace ot God let us live up to it, and act it out." i 1 NATURE S BEVERAGF, 432 CHAPTE^R XXVIII. TEMPERANCE. NTEMPERANCE, like other vices, is deceitful and seductive. It frequently presents a beau- tiful exterior, while within it is all corruption, and as loath- some as a sepulchre, full of dead men's bones. Youth is charmed and cheated by it, and old age, it often covers with shame and disgrace. You have seen a calm cloud appear in the heavens in a clear day in summer. At a distance it looked beautiful. Its shining edges glittered with delusive splendor, and it moved up the sky as majestically as the chariot of Jehovah. As it approached, the beauty disappeared ; on man below, it cast dark, threatening glances ; the golden fringes vomited forth forked lightning ; and what afar, seemed mellow music, was soon found to be harsh and terrific thunder. Soon the tempest was abroad on earth. The beasts of the field fled for shelter to the shadow of the high rock ; the yellow harvest of the husbandman was swept away, and man him- self fled, a fugitive before the storm. Intemperance is like that cloud ! It promises shelter and shade to the thirsty spirit, but soon bursts upon human life with all the fury of the tempest. It sends its blast and sweeps its tide, into the domestic retreat, across tribunals of justice, and up to the very altars of the church of God. You have seen a serpent winding himself noiselessly through a bed of flowers, and anon lifting his crested head above the foliage, and sporting himself with many a gambol. You have admired his beauty, agility, and strength, and watched his move- ments with intense delight. Even the wild flowers which bloomed in his path, seemed to bend forward to kiss his beautiful form, and he in return moved aside, lest he should crush the fragile things, and scatter their tiny leaves. As you gazed, a mother and her child came on, and stooped to pluck those flowers. Then was the ferocious nature of the monster developed. Around those shrinking forms he coiled himself, and with a hissing sound struck them with his fangs. Crushed and wounded, the child and mother were left to die, while the splendid monster moved away, and was soon lost from view in the dense forest. An Inward Fire. Intemperance is such a serpent ! To youth it presents a beautiful exterior. The wine sparkles in the cup, and the gay festival attracts the unthinking throng. "At last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder." "Within its coil the victim groans and writhes in agony, until the poison, like boiling blood, flows through all his veins, reaching his brain and setting his soul on fire. You have seen the ocean calm and tran- quil. As far as the eye could reach not a ruffle disturbed the surface of the waters. Like a sea of glass, it reflected the form of every bird which took passage over it, and gave back from its clear bosom, the polished beauty of the heavens above. Invited by 433 434 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. the serenity of ocean and sky, the mariner launched his vessel, and spread his canvas to catch the gentle breeze. Soon a change came on. The wind blew like the hurricane. The waves tumbled and foamed upon each other. The ship plunged and quivered, and strained in the trough of the sea. Sunken rocks now lifted their huge forms and sharp peaks high above the water, and anon were buried deep, by the mountain billow. Morning came ; and a vessel, with- out mast, or rudder, or sail, or chart, or compass, or crew, floated upon the bosom of the surge. A Baseless Dream. Intemperance is like that ocean ! To the youthful voyager it seems as calm and placid as a sea of glass. But as he ventures out; as the green hills of sobriety disappear, the waves of destruction begin to dash around him ; the whistling blasts of poverty make frightful music ; the moaning of the pitiless storm disturbs his dream of pleasure, and ere long he is tossing, an unmanageable wreck, upon the sea of temporal and eternal ruin. To point out the dangers of the sea of intemperance, and utter a solemn warning to the young, will be the object of the present chapter, and while I do this, I request your serious and candid attention. I need not stop to prove that our young men need caution upon this point. Although the temperance reformation has laid its heavy blows upon the shivering sides of the domin- ion of king Alcohol, his throne is not yet overturned. His dark, infernal empire still stands. The frowning fortress from which he hurls firebrands, arrows, and death, still lifts its front in the midst of the Christian community, and on every side, are monu- ments of his dreadful conquests. True it is, that intemperance has been driven from the marriage festival, and the chamber of mourning ; from the pulpit of the minister, and the bench of the judge ; but unabashed, it has sought out other homes, and laid its snare for new victims. What then, we ask, are the solemn warnings which intemperance gives to young men ? The drunkard shall come to poverty. Poverty in itself, is not a crime. No dis- grace belongs to the man, who by reverses in business, is led down from affluence to destitution. The poorest man who walks this earth of sorrow, or who toils in vain to clothe and feed his children, can stand in the presence of the man of millions, with no con- sciousness of inferiority. But when poverty is the result of crime, it becomes at once sinful and disgraceful ; when it is the result of gambling, or drinking, or lying, it covers its victim with a robe of shame. Under any circumstances it is exceedingly unpleasant and inconvenient to be very poor, and by most men, poverty is dreaded as one of the worst of evils. Poverty and Misery. Now poverty is as sure to follow a course of intemperance, as light and heat to follow the rising of the sun. God has so ordained. In His word He has declared that the drunkard shall come to poverty, and wher- ever we behold drunkenness, we also gaze upon squalid misery. Go into any commu- nity and you will find affluence to be the result of sobriety, and destitution the sure attendant of dissipation. You will expect to find in the neat, vine-covered cottage, a frugal, temperate man ; and in the hovel, unpainted and desolate, the windows shat- tered, the doors unhinged, an intemperate and dissipated man. So universal is this fact, that we expect a young man to ruin himself, squander his TEMPERANCE. 435 property, become idle and worthless, when he commences a course of intemperance. We predict with almost unerring certainty, that a few years will make him a pauper or a criminal, and leave him in a mad-house or prison, the victim of his crimes. The wretched beings, who sometimes reel along our streets, the sport of boyhood and the shame of manhood ; the miserable creatures, who hide in cellars, and barrooms, and taverns, were once as respectable as those who now walk the earth, with proud step and lofty look. Warnings Not Heeded. But forgetting the declaration of the Al- mighty, " the drunkard shall come to pov- erty," they took the social glass, and drank its contents. The pledge was disregarded, and the warnings of temperate men, un- heeded. Step by step, they descended from respectability and affluence to wretchedness and woe. Property was wasted, and char- acter sacrificed. Self-respect took its flight, and those who were once the enterprising, industrious, hopeful young men of our country, are now the reeling, staggering in- habitants of dens and caves of infamy. One such case came under my own ob- servation. A young man, with whom I was intimate in childhood, became intemperate. When a boy, he had a generous heart and a noble disposition. We all loved him, and of our circle, he was the pride and ornament. Friends looked to him with the highest an- ticipations of his future usefulness. When at a proper age he commenced business, and for awhile was exceedingly prosperous. The little property, which he had at first, in- creased, and he was looking forward to wealth and affluence. In an unfortunate hour, he learned to drink the social glass, and drain the madden- ing bowl. Kind friends hung around him, and presented their remonstrances ; the church of which he was a member, uttered its kindest warnings; an aged mother hung upon his steps with prayers and tears. Heedless of them all, he clung to his boon companions and his cups. " I shall never become a drunkard," he said; "I can con- trol my appetite ; your fears are vain." Soon business was neglected. The little fortune which he had accumulated was scat- tered to the blast, and discouraged and dis- heartened, he became a drunkard. The associates of his early days stood aloof; the church, with many tears, and after many fruitless efforts to reform him, withdrew the hand of fellowship ; his mother died of a broken heart, and the young man himself, mortified and ashamed, fled from the scenes of his youth and the companions of his child- hood. On a Bed of Straw. One morning a messenger called at my door, and asked me to visit a young man in distress. Amid the peltings of the pitiless storm, I hastened to the place where he was, I found the street, the house — if house, the wretched tenement could be called. Up into the third story, I traveled, amid dirt and filth, and entered the chamber to which I was directed. In a cold room, on a bed of straw, covered with a single moth-eaten blanket, burning with fever, tortured with rheumatism and delirious with drink, was stretched a young man. I could not recog- nize his countenance or recall a single feat- ure. " I do not know you," I said to him. He cast on me a look of agony, and replied ; "Good God, has intemperance blotted out my manHness and made me so much a demon that my early associates do not 436 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. know me?" Then he covered his face, and wept aloud. His story is soon told. He was the young man, who in early life had given such promise of usefulness. To one degree after another in his fatal habit he had advanced, until his money was gone, and he was a pauper. To the city he had wandered in search of employment, and here I found him, in the condition which I have described, with both feet frozen, and none to minister to his wants. In the wretched dwelling and among the more wretched occupants, he found no sympathy. He learned in all the bitterness of his spirit that the drunkard will come to poverty. The End Sure to Come. I would not affirm that every case of in- temperance will end like this, or that the destruction of every intemperate young man will be as speedy and as awful. But sooner or later poverty will crush the spirits of every man who " looketh upon the wine when it is red," or who goeth after strong ■drink. He may bear up against it for awhile, but it will ultimately overthrow him. It will perplex and disturb his business ; it •will mortgage his house and his farm ; it will place an attachment upon his stocks ; it will ruin all his prospects for this life and the life to come. Intemperance ruins the physical constitu- tion. In the creation of the body, God has displayed infinite wisdom. More wonderful than any complicated work of human hands, it bears the impress of divinity. It is fear- fully and wonderfully made, and is*a speci- men of workmanship, unrivaled in the arts. The Maker of man did not form him thus fearfully, in order that he might be broken by disease, and crushed by vice. He made him upright. He stamped the blush of health upon his cheek, and sent him forth to look upon the earth beneath his feet, and the heavens above his head. You have seen a beautiful machine, fulfill- ing the purpose of its maker, and working with order, regularity and harmony. You have examined it closely, and admired the perfection of all its parts. You have com- plimented the skill of the artisan, and deemed his work, one of extraordinary inge- nuity. You have also seen that machine dis- arranged ; the order and harmony of its movements gone, and entirely incapable of performing the work for which the maker de- signed it. The human body under the influence of intemperance, is like that disarranged and broken instrument. The purpose of its creation is defeated, and it becomes the seat of numberless diseases, aches and pains, sorrows and woes, for which God never has intended it. Old Before His Time. The drunkard presents a fearful specimen of a broken-down man. From the head to the feet, he is covered with disease. He moves along the street, with downcast eyes, or staggers to and fro, with heavy tread ; his nerves are all unstrung, or braced beyond endurance ; his head aches and throbs ; his bloated face spoils the beauty of a human being ; his knees totter and smite against each other ; his livid lips are closed over teeth decayed ; his swollen tongue prevents his ready utterance ; his idiotic look, be- tokens speedy death ; his eye glares at one time, and is languid and bloodshot at an- other ; and his brain is racked with a thou- sand fancies, and agonized by a thousand fears. Go search earth's darkest caves, and bring up to the blaze of day, the inmates of your THANKSGIVING (437) 438 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. prisons and dungeons ; your insane asylums and mad-houses, and none will you find so miserable and degraded, so lost to all that makes up a perfect man, as the victim of in- temperance. Take some case within the limits of your own observation ; some friend who tampered with the terrible destroyer, and has been ruined. You knew him perhaps, when no shade of crime had passed over his manly counte- nance ; when he walked with his head erect, and his bosom bared to the storms of life : when life flashed from his eye, and vigor was in his step ; when the stranger noted his manly form, and correct deportment. You have seen that form bend, not with age ; you have seen that step falter, not from fear, and that once noble form reeling from the drunk- ard's purgatory, to lie besotted and beast-like by the wayside. You have seen everything noble and beautiful in this God-made body, utterly spoiled ; the divinity in man crushed out of him, and the temple of the immortal 50ul laid in ruins. An Empty Boast. Nor will young men avoid this terrible de- struction of the human system, if they enter the fatal avenues which lead to the drunk- ard's fate. They may suppose that they have power to drink, or refrain from drink- ing. They may boast how strong they are, and how easily they can dash the inebriating cup to the earth. But their boasts are idle as the wind. The great army of drunkards with crippled limb, limping form, bleeding heart, and maddened brain, thousands of whom die every year, utter their notes of warning. The broken, diseased, death- struck forms of prostrate men, as they lie along the path of life, give fearful admoni- tion. The opening graves, into which the re- mains of men are tumbled after they have cursed themselves and all around them ; graves on which the flowers seem unwilling to bloom, and over which the birds appear to sing in sadness, graves wet by no widow's tears, consecrated by no orphan's lament ; graves which angels shun, or by which they weep in sorrow, as on their mission of mercy, they pass through the city of the dead, all sound the alarm, and by the dumb eloquence of their speechless harmony, bid the living throng beware of the drunkard's hopeless doom. What the Demons 'Wrote. You remember the famous dream or vision of a distinguished clergyman. Dr. George B. Cheener, of Salem, Mass., for the publica- tion of which, he was beaten in the street and imprisoned. The scene was said to be in Deacon Giles' Distillery. The dreamer saw the demon-workmen at their unhallowed employment, manufacturing with great zeal the elixir of death. He heard their fero- cious and blasphemous expressions. While he gazed on, barrel after barrel of the accursed poison was drawn from the cistern and prepared for sale. The employment of one or more of the fiends was, to mark and label these barrels and hogsheads of rum and gin, which had been put up. Quenching a coal of fire in the liquid which he had made, the infernal monster went to work. On all the barrels, in letters which would remain invisible until the first glass was drawn, and then burn forth like fire, he wrote, "consumption," "palsy," "fever," "plague," "insanity," "madness," "redness of eyes," "sorrow of heart," "death," " damnation," and the like expressions, which, when the liquid death had been sold, and the buyers drew from it for the first time, flashed out in the faces of TEMPERANCE. 439 the thirsty customers, who stood waiting around the bar. With fearful consternation they saw written in words of flame, the diseases which they knew were preying upon their systems, and fled from the place in terror. What that dreamer saw in vision, we behold an existing fact. Though on the barrels in the rumshops, we do not find the words of fire written there by demon hands, yet we behold more fearful inscriptions on the living, dying countenances of men who walk our streets. Gleaming forth from fiery eyes; seen on the wan and haggard cheek ; read in the stooping forms and staggering tread ; heard in the hollow cough; felt in the aching head, and beating heart, proving to us that intemperance "Is palsy, plague, and fever, And madness all combined," are the fearful inscriptions of death and dam- nation. The Curse of Home. Intemperance poisons domestic felicity. The sacredness of home has often been made the subject of discourse. Scarcely a person reads this, whose heart has not beat quickly, at the mention of the endear- ing word. Home — it is associated with all the pleasant scenes of childhood and youth ; with the names of companions, whose coun- tenances are now forgotten ; with the prayers of parents and the love and kindness of brothers and sisters, who are now sleeping in the grave. Nor, until human nature be changed, will this love of home be entirely destroyed. Men who wander far away, over ocean and land, who journey from cHme to clime as fugitives and wanderers, look back with pleasant emotions to a spot which they call their "home." But intemperance, like gambling, is calculated to corrupt home, poison its joys and wither its flowers. Many a family has been made wretched and miser- able by intemperance. The fire on many a hearth has been put out by the drink of death. Indeed, intemperance so transforms a man's character that he is not prepared to fulfill the relations which exist between him and his family. Changed Into a Tyrant. However kind he may be when sober, hov/ever he may provide for the wants of his family, if he is an intemperate man, he can- not be a good husband or a good father. The thing is impossible. Drink transforms the kind and indulgent sire into the harsh, unjust and crael tyrant. Men, who when sober are affectionate and pleasant, become, under the influence of inebriation, fierce and wicked. Awhile since I became acquainted with a family, the head of which was a kind, inof- fensive man, who loved his wife and his chil- dren with a pure affection. He was one of those peculiar men whose hearts are full of kindness for all around. He was, to some extent, an intemperate man, and when drunken was the very reverse of what he was in his sober moments. On one occa- sion he returned to his home in a state of intoxication, and for awhile sat brooding by the fire, silent and stupid. Soon his son came in, a little, bright, in- telligent boy of six years. The child at school had received the commendation of his teacher, and in his joy had hastened home to repeat the words of kindness to his parent. Somewhat boisteriously he rushed into the room, and, with eyes glistening with delight, threw himself into the father's arms. That brutal sire, changed from friend to 410 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. fiend, uttered a fearful oath, threw the child from him, struck lym in the face, and dashed him to the earth. What other acts of violence he would have committed we know not. The mother seized her child, the blood gushing from his nose and mouth, two of his teeth gone, and fled with him to the house of a neighbor. When reason re- turned, had that father committed murder, he could not have been more penitent. He cursed his cups, and yet clung to them. He cursed the man who sold him drink, and still hung about his workshop of death. He wept and prayed over his child, and still continued in the habit which caused the injury. Not long ago the papers gave an account of a frightful murder. A husband, who in his sober moments was kind to his compan- ion, in a fit of intemperance, had destroyed her life, and sent her spirit to the bar of God. Notwithstanding his vow to be her support and protection, he caused her death. With his own hands he beat and mangled her form, until the vital principle was gone, and then retired to bed to sleep the drunk- ard's sleep and dream the drunkard's dream. A Source of Endless Trouble. Is man bad enough, with all his depraved powers and passions, to accomplish deeds like this, without the aid of reason-robbing drink ? No ; crushed as human nature is by sin, it needs some artificial stimulant to bring it up to a point, where it can sever so recklessly the dearest ties of nature, and commit crimes, at which cruelty itself revolts. And we find intoxicating drink furnishing just the excitement which is required to induced husbands to imbrue their hands in the blood of their wives, and fathers to de- stroy the lives of their children. We find intemperance leading to family disturbances and social discord. We find it to be the cause of sorrow in households, and divisions between companions who have lived plea- santly for years. Intemperance impairs the intellect, and produces idiocy and madness. There is a strong sympathy between the physical and mental parts of man. One acts upon the other. If the body is diseased, the mind is also found to be in an unhealthy condition. If the mind is unhinged or thrown from its balance, the body suffers accordingly. The intellectual is more valuable than the physical. It will endure when the body has decayed, and will continue to be, after the material structure has disappeared. Shining Talents Dimmed. Now intemperance acts directly upon the mind itself, and indirectly through the medium of the physical constitution. The injury done to mind by this vice, is beyond all calculation. Men of strong and vigorous intellect have been bowed by it ; shining talents have been dimmed and tarnished, and the fairest prospects of intellectual great- ness blasted by its fatal influence. The legal and medical professions, and even the ministry, have lost some of their brightest ornaments, and been robbed of some of their choicest jewels, to gratify the lust of this accursed Moloch. Memory now recalls the form and coun- tenance of 'one, who a few years since, bid fair to stand among the first orators at the bar. His professional, services were held in high estimation; as an orator he was enthu- siastically applauded ; as a profound scholar, an able statesman, a clear and vivid writer, he had but few superiors. The political party of which he was a member, nominated him for a seat in Congress, and but for the TEMPERANCE. 441 fatal habit of intemperance, he would have been elected. But all the hopes of his youth were to be disappointed. The love of strong drink grew upon him ; he was seen in a state of intoxication in the court-room ; confidence in him was soon lost, and now if you will visit the city of his birth, you will find the wreck of the once polished lawyer and accomplished statesman. His once powerful intellect is shattered, and although he was, but a few years since, the pride and admira- tion of the bar, he dares not now attempt an argument in open court. An Appalling Record. A hundred other cases equally plain and pitiable might be produced. The history of intemperance is full of them, and on every page of its fearful record can be found the names of men, who have fallen from the highest summit of intellectual greatness, to the lowest depths of degradation and infamy. The ravages of intemperance in its last stages are fearful indeed. The mind becomes en- tirely overthrown, and loses all power of self-control. Like a ship without rudder, or chart, or compass, it plunges on the ter- rible waters of a deep, dark sea. He who would see the intellect entirely dethroned, and hell begun on earth, must visit the bed of a man suffering with the tor- ment of delirium trenieiis. The poor sufferer is haunted by every image of terror, he sees horrid shapes, he hears horrid sounds. Images, which no mortal man ever conceived of before, start up, and throng around him. Satan with all his legions come racing up from pandemonium to hold their infernal conclave in his chamber, beside his dying bed. Ghosts of murdered men drag their bleeding bodies from the grave and lay them at his feet. He sees — he hears — he feels everything dreadful. Each figure on the wall becomes a fiend, which looks upon him with glaring eye ; the friends who move about the room in tearful silence, are to his disordered fancy, pale spectres, who cry avaunt, and shake at him their long, bony fingers ; the blanket which covers him, he imagines to be a huge snarl of snakes and reptiles woven together,, and feasting on each other. Inconceivable terror takes possession of him ; he starts from his bed in anguish ; he bids the fiends begone, and hears only their mockery. He utters heart-rending cries, which echo far down the street at midnight ; he pleads with his physician to tear the strangling serpents from his throat, to drive away the demons, who have come to torment him before his time. The Madness of Drink. In what prison or mad-house can you find insanity like this ? In what lone cell, or dark chamber, can you find madness which equals that of the dying drunkard ? In the darkest secrets of human misery the delirium tremens has no counterpart, and as a source of unspeakable anguish and unmitigated misery, it stands alone, unrivalled by any- thing this side of perdition. Suppose you, a man should build houses on the corners of every street, that from their doors and windows he might let loose upon the unthinking populace, mad dogs of every size and tribe, to bite the people, and spread the poison of disease throughout the whole community ; what would be thought of him ? Why, the law would lay its heavy hand upon his murderous vocation, close his doors, and drag him to some place of confinement. And here are men found on almost every -Street whose sole business is to let loose 442 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. upon society insanity and madness in their worst forms, who send their rum dogs, mad as Satan, to bite with venomed tooth the loveliest members of our families, whose trade is to spread among men, the worst kind of hydrophobia, and make war alike upon the bodies and the souls of our fellow- creatures. Pitfalls and Snares. In all villages and cities, young men are exposed to numberless temptations. On every side are the snares of the enemy, and from the gay saloon with its glittering orna- ments, to the low hovel of wretched inebria- tion, are found the sources of intemperance and vice. Beside the open and known resorts of infamy, are secret dens and caves in which the wicked hide themselves, and into which the young are decoyed and ruined. A friend entered one of the most public buildings in one of our cities, and came to the door of a room which refused him entrance. He discovered a secret spring, and touched it. The door flew open, and he saw in full operation the bar, and the gaming- table. Congregated there in the broad day, and yet concealed from human view, were the wretched beings who make crime a pastime and sin a recreation. And other such places there are in all our large cities, whose sole object is the destruction of the young. To these facts it is worse than mad- ness to blind our eyes. They meet us on every hand ; they stare us in the face at every turn we take. Young men, it devolves on you to say what shall be the future history of the tem- perance reformation. It devolves on you to say how far the burning waves of intemper- ance shall sweep on, and where they shall be stayed. I therefore call upon you, in the name of common humanity, to arise in all the vigor of youth, and manliness, and arrest, if possible, the tide of ruin which is sweep- ing over the beauty of our land. We need warm hearts and willing hands. The mon- ster with whom we have to contend, is more powerful than kings and emperors, and will not be defeated without a struggle. Come then to the work of humanity ; the work of God. It will ultimately triumph, and intemperacce will be driven from the world. We may toil long against the evil, but victory will eventually crown our labors. It is the cause of human happiness, and would reflect glory upon the angels of God, were they permitted to engage in it. Be not discouraged, though little may seem to be effected. Go Ahead. Never doubt a righteous cause ; Go ahead ! Throw yourself completely in ; Conscience shaping all your laws, Manfully through thick and thin. Go ahead ! Do not ask who'll go with you ; Go ahead ! Numbers? spurn the coward's plea ! If there be but one or two, Single handed though it be, Go ahead ! Though before you mountains rise. Go ahead ! Scale them ? certainly you can ; Let them proudly dare the skies ; What are mountains to a man ? Go ahead ! Though fierce waters round you dash. Go ahead ! Let no hardship baffle you : Though the heavens roar and flash, Still undaunted, firm, and true. Go ahead ' George A. Light. Invoke the assistance of " God o'erhead," THE MAN WHO BLOWS HIS OWN TRUMPET. 443 444 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. and do your duty well, and when the course of life is run, and the last hour of human probation arrives, you will look back upon your efforts to stay the tide of crime, and save the drunkard from temporal and eternal destruction, with high and holy satisfaction. Angels will whisper in your ear of men redeemed from vice and crime, and by your hand plucked as brands from the burning. Such tidings will be sweeter music to your worn spirit, then all the anthems of the earth, and though borne upon the blast, or wafted on the gentle breeze, the flourish of trumpets, or the melody of the organ, may disturb the silence of your death-chamber, the memory of your good act, will kneel by your dying couch, and do its homage there, and breathe upon you a sweeter strain than can be purchased by the wealth, the honors, the noisy pomp and parade of empires. The Coming Man. The coming man will bravely stand. Without the wine-glass in his hand, A sun-crowned chieftain of the land ; A landmark, like the lofty pine, Which lifts on high its plumes of fir, Whose root no fickle winds can stir ; He, like an upright worshipper, Will never stoop to taste of win€ Strong of body, strong of soul, Firm of purpose to control, He will spurn the tempting bowl In the shadow of the vine. No taint of wine in his full brains. No trembling hand will hold the reins When he who rules shall drink no wine. George W. Bungay. Not many years since, a young married couple from the far "fast-anchored isle" sought our shores, with the most sanguine anticipations of prosperity and happiness. They had begun to realize more than they had seen in the visions of hope, when, in an evil hour, the husband was tempted "to look upon the wine when it was red," andtO' taste of it when it gives color in the cup." The charmer fastened around his victim all the serpent spells of its sorcery, and he fell ; and at every step of his rapid degrada- tion from the man to the brute, and down- ward, a heart-string broke in the bosom of his companion. Finally, with the last spark of hope flickering on the altar of her heart, she threaded her way into one of these shambles where man is made such a thing as beasts of the field would bellow at. She pressed her way through the bacchanalian crowd who were revelling there in their owa ruin. " That My Husband ! " With her bosom full of " that perilous stuff that preys upon the heart," she stood before the plunderer of her husband's des- tiny, and exclaimed in tones of startling anguish, " Give me back my husband ! " "There's your husband," said the man. " That my husband ! What have you done to him ? That my husband ! What have you done to that noble form that once, like a giant oak, held its protecting shade over the fragile vine that clung to it for support and shelter ? That my husband ! With what torpedo chill have you touched the- sinews of that manly arm ? That my hus- band ! " What have you done to that noble brow, which he once wore high among his fellows,, as if it bore the superscription of the God- head ? That my husband ! What have you done to that eye, with which he was wont to look erect on heaven, and see in its mirror the image of his God ? What Egyptian drug have you poured into his veins, and turned the fountains of his heart into black and burning pitch ? Give me back my husband! Undo your basilisk TEMPERANCE. Ut spells, and give me back the man that stood Avith me beside the altar ! " Somewhere lives a small farmer of such social habits that his coming home intoxi- cated was once no unusual thing. His wife urged him in vain to reform. "Why, you see," he would say, " I don't like to break off at once ; it ain't wholesome. The best way is always to get used to a thing by degrees, you know." " Very well, old man," his helpmate would rejoin, " see now if you don't fall into a hole one of these days, while you can't take care of yourself, and nobody near to take you out." Not Too Suddenly. Sure enough, as if to verify the prophecy, a couple of days after, returning from a glorious frolic, the old fellow reeled into his own well, and, after a deal of useless scram- bling, shouted for the " light of his eyes " to come and help him out. " Didn't I tell you so?" said the good soul, showing her cap frill over the edge of the parapet ; " you've got into a hole at last, and it's only lucky I'm in hearing, or you might have drowned ! ■"Well," she continued, after a pause, letting down the bucket, " take hold." And up he came higher at every turn of the windlass, until the old lady's grasp slipping from the handle, down he went to the bottom again. This occurring more than once, made the temporary occupant of the well suspicious. " Look here," he screamed, in a fury at the last splash, "you're doing that on purpose — I ^Jtow you are ! " " Well, now, I a7/z," responded his old woman, tranquilly, while winding him up once more, " didn't you tell me it's best to get used to a thing by degrees ? I'm afraid if I was to bring you right up on a sudden, you wouldn't find it wholesome." The old fellow could not help chuckling at her appHcation of his principle, and protested he would sign the pledge on the instant if she would lift him fairly out. This she did, and packed him off to " swear in," wet as he was. A great drunkard in the Highlands of In- verness-shire was led to attend a lecture on Temperance, and was induced to become a member of a temperance society. For months the craving of his appetite for strong drink was e.xcessive; but, true to his resolu- tion, he set his face like a flint against every temptation. The marsh of his heart being thus drained of one poison, he next received the seed of the Word into its soil. It was hid there until quickened by the sun of righteousness, and nourished by the rains and dews of the Spirit, when it brought forth fruit in Christian life and character. Queen Victoria and Donald. Having no settled occupation, he yet could not be idle ; and having by the help of a few friends managed to stock a little box with trinkets and other cheap ware, he set out as a pedlar. In the course of his pere- grinations, he found himself at Balmoral, and thinking that if he could get the pat- ronage of the Queen, it would help him greatly, he resolved to make the attempt. There was something in his look and man- ner, which at once commended him to the favor of some of the household officials, who had it in their power to put him under the notice of the Earl of Carlisle, then attending the court as a Minister of State. The noble earl, with his usual frankness and goodness of heart, sympathized with Donald, and promised to recommend his case to the Queen. When Her Majesty came to know it, Donald was commanded to appear in the royal presence, and met with a most graci- ous reception. Not only did the Queen 446 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. purchase his wares, but gave him permission to wear the royal arms as the Queen's ped- lar, and sent Donald away with a lighter heart and a heavier purse than he had when he entered the royal chamber. On leaving, the Earl of Carlisle took him to his room, and there Donald was presented with a glass of wine with which to drink the Queen's health. Looking at it, he felt at first a kind of trembling, but then, lifting his heart in prayer for Divine aid, he said : "Your lordship will excuse me; I cannot drink the Queen's health in wine, but I will drink it in water." The noble earl asked his reasons. " My lord," said Donald, " I was a drunk- ard ; I became an abstainer, and I trust by God's grace I have become a Christian ; but I know that if I were to taste intoxicating drink, it would at once revive an appetite which is not dead but dying, and I should most likely go the whole length of the drunkard again. God has only promised to support me in the path of duty, and that path, in my case, is plainly to abstain." The noble earl at once commended Donald for his frankness and honesty, and in taking leave assured him that it would afford Her Majesty the highest satisfaction to know that she had amongst her loyal and devoted sub- jects one who, in the midst of such strong temptations, could maintain his principles with integrity and honor. Donald left re- joicing to think that he had been enabled to "drink" to the glory of God. Work of Temperance. It's a work of prevention and cure ; A work for the rich and the poor ; A work that is slow and yet sure ; A work whose effects will endure. Then shout for it, hearer and preacher ; Shout for it, master and man ; Shout for it, scholar and teacher ; Praise it wherever you can. That intemperance is a vice of the most deplorable kind, and that it is productive of fearful consequences, not only to the victims themselves, but to their friends and families, is a fact that no intelligent individual will deny. The life of the habitual drunkard is one of misery, remorse, agony and shame. He is, in some sense, the mere sport of a demon. However kind, gentle and generous he may be in his rational, thoughtful and temperate moments, the chances are as a thousand to one that when laboring under the influence of the intoxicating draught, he will either become an idiot, a brute or a fiend. All sense of propriety will be forgotten, all dignity of character will be thrown aside, and the wretched sot or madman will play such fantastic tricks as to make him a buf- foon and the sport of the heartless, or grovel so low as to render it necessary for him to be concealed from the public gaze and the popular scorn. Wanderers and Vagabonds. How many hearts have been lacera.ted, how many hearths have been made desolate, how many families have been impoverished, how many beings have been hurried into un- timely graves through the agency of intem- perance ! The catalogue, if it could be ob- tained, would present a terrible array, indeed. Fond and favorite sons have become out- casts, wanderers and vagabonds, and doting parents have wept tears of blood over the prostrate, the fallen and the degraded. Char- acter has been destroyed, health has been impaired, and even murder has been prompted and perpetrated through the agency of this terrible infirmity. Can we wonder, then, that ever and anon the good and the wise throughout the land, seeing- the wreck and the havoc that are TEMPERANCE. 447 produced by the wine-cup, should rouse themselves to an intense appreciation of the evils and the terrors of intoxication, and should make an extraordinary effort to era- dicate, or, at least, .to modify, so desolating and destructive a vice ! And yet the poor drunkard is often to be pitied. He is, him- self, the keenest sufferer, and whenever per- mitted to pause in his downward career, and to contemplate the ignominy of his position, he must feel " all the tortures of the damned." In many cases, too, he would repent, ab- stain and retrace his footsteps, if a fitting opportunity were afforded, and he could exercise the moral power. It should be remembered that some of our most enlight- ened physicians regard intemperance as a disease, and urge that it should be treated accordingly. That it is so in many cases, we have not a doubt. Who, indeed, has not known of individuals, with the brightest prospect before them, surrounded with every comfort and luxury, accomplished, talented and powerful, and yet so wedded to this one infirmity, so overcome and con- quered by this subtle demon, as to have gone on step by step, plunging deeper and more downward into the fatal abyss, until reputa- tion was sullied, fortune was impaired, and life itself was sacrificed. There are again, not a few of the erring, the struggling and the indigent, who are scarcely masters of themselves. They give way before the first blow of misfortune, and in the excitement of the moment, they fly to the maddening yet Lethean draught, as to their last and only solace. And when once the fatal step is taken, when once the reason trembles and totters, when the brain becomes inflamed, and the eye illumined by an unnatural glare — who may tell the con- sequences ? And is there no remedy? Can none of these unfortunates, these guilty, these reck- less and despairing victims of a vile habit, be rescued from such a fearful career, and restored to the ways of well-doing ? Is the system that has heretofore been pursued the right one ? Should the poor drunkard be sent to the prison or the almshouse, and thus at once degraded and punished ; or should an effort be made to admonish, per- suade, reform and cure him ? There cannot be a doubt as to the proper policy under the circumstances. While we denounce the vice, let us endeavor to do something for the victims. While we regard " inebriety as a great mis- fortune and a great sin," let us remember that we are all erring, human, finite and falli- ble beings, and that we owe it to society and humanity, to step aside from the ordinary paths of life, to penetrate the hovels, the alleys and the by-ways, if thereby we can rescue and relieve a fallen brother. " None are all evil," and even the poor drunkard, despised, contemned and derided, as he, too, generally is, may yet have, within his mind and his heart, a lingering spark of generosity and virtue, that only requires to be fanned by kindness, sympathy and benevolence, to kindle it into a bright and regenerating flame. And let an outraged public sentiment rise up and declare that the infamous traffic shall be forever suppressed and driven from this fair land of ours. m 448 CHAPTPKR XXIX. GOOD HEALTH. ^ HE preceeding pages have been describing and recommending the cardinal virtues. Do not consider it out of place to include with these the duty of good health. Can it be, then, that good health, which is always considered a gift, is after all a duty, or rather, can it be that it is your duty to have good health and to preserve it ? Most emphatically do we say that the care and preservation of health is a moral duty, and must be ranked among the cardinal vir- tues — that is, among the virtues which are the most important and essential to our well- being. Be prepared, therefore, for some plain words upon this subject. You have no right to neglect your health, or to do the least thing that shall injure it, or to trespass on it one hair's breadth, or ignore those plain and simple rules by which alone you can have a sound body. And depend upon it, without a sound body you cannot have a sound mind or a sound rehgion. I believe that half the doubts in the Christian life are due to dyspepsia. Your whole sky grows dark and cloudy, because you had something for breakfast you could not digest. Do you think this is an extrava- gant statement? If it is not true, you will hav.- to look a long time for anything that is true. Emerson says : " The first wealth is health. Sickness is poor-spirited and cannot serve anyone." Dio Lewis says: "The building of a 29 perfect body, crowned by a perfect brain, is at once the greatest earthly problem and grandest hope of the race." Says Longtellow : "If the mind that rules the body ever so far forgets itself as to trample on its slave, the slave is never gen- erous enough to forgive the injury, but will rise and smite the oppressor." Bulvver says very pithily : " There are two things in life that a sage must preserve at every sacrifice, the coats of his stomach and the enamel of his teeth. Some evils admit of consolations, but there are no com- forters for dyspepsia and the toothache." Health and Hope. There is an old Arabian proverb that says : "He who has health has hope ; and he who has hope has everything." It is said by one of our best known authors upon practical subjects : " Few things are more important to a community than the health of its women. If strong is the frame of the mother, says a proverb, the son will give laws to the people. And in nations v.'here all men give laws, all men need mothers of strong frames." Says Bickerstaff : " Health is the greatest of all possessions ; a pale cobbler is better than a sick king." Doctor Johnson says : " Health is so> necessary to all the duties as well as pleas- ures of life, that the crime of squandering it is equal to the folly." " Crime," does Doctor Johnson say? You thought crime was something com- 449 450 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. mitted against the laws of the land. Crime is forgery, or theft, or perjury, or murder. For crime men are arrested, tried in court, sentenced to prison, perhaps hung by the neck until they're dead. But there is another crime for which men are not arrested, but perhaps will be in the year 2000. It is the crime of violating the laws of health. It is crime committed against your own physical strength, against your rest, against your brain, against your nerves, in short, against yourself — that self which comes from God, which was meant for happiness, which feels every abuse and which should be cared for, developed, urged on to the highest perfection and become the noblest specimen of manhood or woman- hood. Too Much Head Knowledge. It is strange that so much needs to be said and written upon a subject that so deeply affects us all. One reason of it is ignorance — ignorance dense and dark as midnight. The great majority of people have never been taught as they ought to have been how to take care of the body. We take the young, and as turkeys are stuffed before Thanksgiving, so we cram them with verbs and fractions and geography and all the 'ologies — some things that they will need, and a thousand others that will never do them any good — yet we neglect to tell them what to eat and how to eat it, what is the advantage of work and exercise, what time to go to bed and how long to sleep, what to do in order to be healthy and strong, and so they grow up knowing everything, yet knowing nothing. At least, they know very little of what is of the very first import- ance and value. To be sure, we hear and read a great deal about athletics. The colleges have their contests which often endanger life itself. This overdoing the thing is quite American. We rush to the extreme in almost everj^- thing. We want to get rich in a day. We wish to mount to the top of the ladder at a single bound. We take our seat in a railway car, pull out a watch and wonder why we are not there. We are waiting for the time to come when we can sail from New York to Queenstown in three days. If that time ever comes, we shall talk about this slow travelling and curse the steamship com- panies because they cannot make that little distance in two days. Robust Women Wanted. But instead of overdoing athletics, let the athletics have their proper place, not only in our schools and colleges, but also among the people at large. Don't let woman be the frail, pale, dehcate creature she always is in poetry and pictures. It is nothing against her to have an arm which would put to shame that of a washerwoman. It would be nothing against her dignity to have a muscle like that of an athlete. She would be more of a woman if she could walk twenty miles a day, row a boat five miles on a stretch, ride a horse equal to the best cavalryman, sit gracefully on a bicvcle, and without unduly straining her muscles, keep pace with the smart trotter whose owner proudly remarks that " he never takes any- body's dust." Do you think there is any- thing indelicate about all this ? Better a thousand times such indelicacy than that narrow-chested, pale, thin, headachy, dys- peptic, whining, good-for-nothing woman- hood which is a disgrace to the sex and an insult to the God whose sweetest blessing is health and happiness. Yet there is something to be thankful for. There is a tremendous waking-up of public HEALTH AND BEAUTY 452 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. sentiment upon this matter, and let all the world say amen. It is no longer considered a waste of time for boys to run and romp, and play ball, learn to swim, and pride them- selves on being pedestrians. " Keep to your books and your business," used to be said. We say so too, for books and business are among the main objects of life. But we do say, and we expect you to have sense enough to say, take exercise, breathe God's fresh air, open your lungs to the winds that blow, call on every muscle of j^our body and tell it to wake up ; and do this for the sake of books and business as well as for the sake of a long life and the enjoyment that life was intended to give. Avoid the Abuse. In truth it must be said that to overdo athletics is just as pernicious as not to do athletics at all. The doing — no fault can be found with that ; the overdoing — there is the source of all the trouble. It is nothing against the benefits of proper exercise that some lazy youth, who could not keep on his capacious feet, got his skull cracked in a game of foot-ball. It is nothing against • good sports that two young athletes came into collision and had to send for a doctor. It is nothing against eating a good meal that some stuffed glutton cares for nothing but eating, and wastes all his physical energy in digesting turkey and plum-pudding. We are too apt to see the abuse of a thing ; the abuse is nothing against the proper use. The truth is, young people are active, fond of life, always are in motion, in short, act out the impulses of nature. If it had been intended that they should be tied down and have no liberty, they would have been born with a tether to tie them up with. While, therefore, no good can come from a mad wild pursuit of athletic sports, the exercise of all the bodily functions within proper limits is not only desirable, but is; really a moral duty ;, it is one of the cardi- nal virtues. It is a happy thing that public interest has. been awakened on this subject. We are beginning to see that it is a hollow mockery for a man to pray and yet violate the laws of health. We cannot serve God by prayers, and praises while we are sinning against our- selves. What is the harm in seeing a minis- ter or deacon who is robust and hearty — one who has a most ungenteel appetite, who- is broad in the chest and ruddy in the face,, and impolite enough to eat ail that is placed before him ? What is the harm in his being a picture of health ? No Piety in Rheumatism. It used to be thought that pale people with indigestion and headaches came nearest to being sanctified. It was supposed there- was something very heavenly about them. They looked as if they were going into a decline and getting ready to bid the world farewell. Now, understand that pale religion is not one wit better than healthy religion. In fact it is worse. No man can pray so well as the one with a good digestion, and no woman can sing hymns so well as the one- who is not afflicted with catarrh. There is no piety in rheumatism. To enjoy your blessings to the fullest extent you must be well and hearty. Whatever people may think, there is no real affinity between pills, and piety. But some people do not deserve to have good health. They have all sorts of aches, and infirmities, and they ought to have. They are careless to the verge of rashness. They expose themselves to wind and: weather ; they run constant risks ; they dose- themselves with patent medicines that are GOOD HEALTH. 453 enough to wreck any constitution, and then wonder why they feel so miserably. They have a pain in the side ; they have headaches especially on Sunday ; they are always down in the dumps and complaining of their bad feelings, which can be accounted for easily enough. If they would take care of them- selves and obsei-ve the simplest rules of health, they would not always be whining about their "bad feelings." Persons who abuse themselves must expect to suffer from that abuse. The Rules of Health. What, now, are some of the simple and most important rules of health ? The cavity of the Mouth should be cleaned frequently and thoroughly, in order that taste and digestion may not be inter- fered with by accretions upon its membrane. It should be protected, besides from injury by bones, by too hot food and by other harmful agencies, for these might cause in- flammation and ulceration of the mucous membrane, and chewing as v/ell as swallow- ing would then be interfered with. The Teeth are frequently attacked by dis- ease. Hollow teeth and the bad odor caused by them could easily be avoided by proper cleansing of the mouth. The teeth should be protected from vegetable parasites as well as from the accumulation of tartar ; these should be removed as quickly as possible, or their bad effects counteracted. After each meal the teeth should be brushed with alcohol or cologne, to prevent the particles of food remaining in the mouth from decom- posing, for these decomposing remains of food form a hot-bed for the growth of para- sites, which, however, the alcohol will destroy. After this some innocuous powder, such as chalk, egg-shells, bi-carbonate of soda or other alkali, may be used with the brush, in order to prevent the formation in the mouth of acids, which will attack the teeth. The use of charcoal in cleaning the teeth is less agreeable, and should be advised with hesitation ; while ashes must be used under no consideration, in spite of their property of rendering the teeth white, for they de- stroy the enamel, and so facilitate decay. Healthy teeth, like healthy fat in man, are not perfectly white, but have a yellowish tint. Those who find it impossible to clean their teeth during the day, should at least not neglect to clean them after the last meal, for the long interval from then until morn- ing gives abundant opportunity for the de- posit and putrefaction of foreign substances. Care of Teeth and Gums. The diligent and systematic brushing of the teeth with a brush which is not too stiff" is conductive to the health and beautiful color of the gums. Gums which have not been brushed for a long time lapse into a condition of morbid swelling, irritability and sensitiveness : when the use of the brush is resumed, therefore, they will become cov- ered with blood, a condition, however, which will disappear after the brushing has been repeated a few times. The unbrushed and neglected gums resemble the so-called "proud flesh," which bleeds with equal readiness, and which also needs to be hard- ened and cauterized. The Throat and mouth ought to be kept clean for another important reason. It is this, that various and numerous germs of disease constantly enter here, and either remain or pass beyond. These should be gotten rid of by gargling the throat, espe- cially in the morning, with some disinfectant solution prescribed by the family physician. This is to be done in the usual manner 454 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. by throwing the head backward and driving air through the water audibly. Besides these germs of disease, there may also adhere to the throat shells, hulls, fish- scales, crumbs of dry pastry, powdered pepper (which causes far more irritation than whole pepper), and other particles capable of giving much annoyance. The irritation pro- duced in the throat and air passages by mustard, mixed pickles, vinegar, spirits, and by strongly seasoned food, may be amelior- ated by adding to them milk, eggs and honey, as is customary in Austria and Poland. Uncleanly Habits. Sweet foods and certain sour ones, which are liable to injure the teeth, maybe neutral- ized in a similar manner, the remaining par- ticles being carried away by succeeding mild food and drinks. The proper preparation and succession of food and drink is of great importance, as all substances which irritate the throat also injure it and bring it into a favorable condition for the invasion and adhesion of the germs of disease. A farther source of injury to the mouth lies in the excessive use of tobacco, espe- cially when accompanied by frequent expec- toration. The fact should not be overlooked that the saliva is a very important digestive fluid, that it is formed from the blood, and that a waste of saliva amounts to a positive loss of blood. It is a curious fact that many people, who are scrupulously clean as far as their skin is concerned, are quite indifferent in regard to the cleanhness of their mouths, although the cleansing of the mucous membrane of the mouth is, in a certain sense, the more important of the two. Every mother should see that her chil- dren keep their mouths clean, and should teach them to rinse and gargle both morning and evening, as well as after each meal. Im treating affections of the throat, gargling with certain solutions plays an important part, and children should be taught how to gargle while in health, and at as early an age as possible, because it is very difficult to teach them after they have fallen sick. Mothers should also know how to inspect the mouth and throat, and, if need be, they should be taught by the family physician to do so. It is always better, especially if diphtheria is about, to call a physician in time, and this is made possible when the throat is inspected every morning. One more warning we must not omit. Never allow your child to be kissed on the mouth, if indeed at all. Teach him to turn and hold his cheek in response to a visitor's advance. Injury from Overeating. In order to keep the Stomach in a healthy condition, avoid filling it unreasonably and frequently with great quantities of food or drink. Heavy, indigestible food should be shunned, while, on the other hand, it will not do to be too timid in regard to the heartiness of a meal. Treat your stomach as you would any other organ : it should be made hardy and strong, without being overworked ; but it should by no means be allowed to become weak and peevish from having its tasks made too easy. Too much work weakens not only the external muscles, but the muscles of the heart and stomach as well. A reasonable amount of work, how- ever, insures good digestion and a hardy stomach. The liquid and liquified matter in the mtestines enters the blood by way of the capillaries tributary to the portal vein. This vessel carries it to the liver, after modifica- tion in whose structure it passes through the GOOD HEALTH. 455 lower vena cava into the right side of the heart. In order to promote quick incorpora- tion of digestive material in the systematic circulation the flow of blood in the portal vein should be as rapid as possible, an end to be attained by preserving a healthy liver, by full inspirations and by certain movements of the abdominal muscles, while it may be far- ther promoted by careful regulation of the bowels and by drinking water freely during disgestion in order to dilute the thick blood of the portal vein. Decomposition of the contents of the intestines is prevented by the presence of the bile, which at the same time dilutes the digested masses and neutralizes the excess of acids formed in them. Necessity of Pure Air. Respiration is indispensable to the human organism, since it provides the oxygen with- out which we could not live. Health is in danger as soon as we begin to breathe an impure air, or as soon as the function of the respiratory organs is in any way disturbed. We should, therefore, take care to breathe fresh and pure air only, and to protect our lungs and chests from becoming disordered in any way. The first requirement towards accomphshing this end is a sufficient supply of oxygen. The atmosphere of a hall where many people have been congregated for a length of time is rendered impure by their exhala- tions, so that breathing becomes difficult and oppressive, and health may be actually im- paired. The injurious effect is due not merely to the carbonic acid gas which every person exhales and which accumulates in such rooms, but also, according to recent investigations, to a certain gas, probably nitrogenous, which has not yet been defi nitely ascertained. The deleterious condition of the atmosphere in such rooms is farther aggravated by gas-lights, by perspiration and other exhalations from the skin, and by various forms of excrementitious matter. If the heating apparatus is not in proper work- ing order, certain gases of combustion are liable to escape unperceived and still farther to vitiate the atmosphere. An adult requires a little more than one gallon of pure air every minute : a single gas-jet consumes as much oxygen as twelve persons would require, a common iron stove double this amount. Ventilation is the best and, in fact, the only means of obtaining pure air. Opening doors and windows, therefore, can alone change the vitiated air of the interior for pure fresh air from the outer atmosphere. All rooms where a large number of people assemble should have ar- rangements for easy and thorough ventila- tion. Schools, manufactories, shops, large meeting-rooms and halls should never be overcrowded, and their atmosphere should be completely renewed every day. Simple fumigation is of no value for this purpose : ventilation can be effected only by a complete change of air. Your Sleeping Apartments. The room which demands most careful attention in this respect is the sleeping apart- ment. Bedrooms should be light, sunny and spacious, and there should be constant change of air, a window, either in the bed- room itself or in an adjoining room, being partly opened at night. Babies' clothmg should not be hung up to dry in a bed- room, nor should soiled clothes be kept there. Plants and flowers in large numbers should not stand in the bedroom, as they exhale carbonic acid gas during the night ; in draw- mg-rooms, parlors and sitting-rooms, on the I contrary, plants with large leaves are bene- 456 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. ficial, because in the light of the sun they exhale oxygen and absorb carbonic acid gas. The most dangerous gases mixed with atmospheric air are carbonic acid and car- bonic oxide. One-half of one per cent, of the latter, if contained in the inspired air, will prove fatal, after a limited time, to men and animals. It is the fatal constituent of illuminating gas. Other dangerous gases are marsh gas and sewer gas, the latter espe- cially proving fatal at times to those whose work lies in or about sewers. These gases, by entering an apartment slowly and im- perceptibly, as they usually do, endanger health and life. Probably their effect is due in part to their affinity for oxygen, which causes a reduction of the oxygen of the blood corpuscles, weakening the whole system and predisposing it to infection. Life in the Open Air. Air containing much Dust is unhealthy. Especially does it affect young and growing persons and those who have weak lungs. For those who are forced from some cause to remain for any length of time in a room filled with dust particles the best protection is a respirator. Smoke in the air, tobacco-smoke in partic- ular, is deleterious to the respiratory organs. Persons who are apt to become hoarse, or who are disposed to cough, should take pains to avoid rooms filled with smoke. Life in the open air, particularly in the woods, is an effective means to the preservation of health and a powerful restorative in chronic diseases. The favorable influence of trav- eling and of life at sanitariums and health resorts in many instances seems chiefly due to the amount of time spent in the open air. Living in narrow and dark rooms, where the breathing space is small and fresh air is deficient, proves very injurious to health, especially when many persons are crowded into one room. By such a manner of living the constitution is sure to be undermined sooner or later, and the individual to be- come a prey to incurable disease. The remedy in such cases consists, not in medi- cine, but in fresh air, exercise, and nutritious food. Children suffer most from want of fresh air, whether in school or at home. Exercising the Lungs. Those who follow sedentary occupations should seek the open air as often as possible, but should be careful about exposure to heat, cold, wet, and dust. The effect of breathing fresh air is intensified by methodi- cal exercise. Simple lung gymnastics con- sist in a number of full respirations. To ventilate the lungs, so to speak, in this manner, the best time is from two to three hours after a full meal, because then the ex- halation of carbonic acid gas is at its height. Since sound lungs are only to be expected in a normally developed chest, the latter should be protected from the various in- fluences which tend to decrease its capacity. Sometimes a deformity is inaugurated during the first hours of life by the bad habit some nurses have of bandaging an infant with unreasonable tightness, a custom as earnestly to be deprecated as that of tight lacing in later years. All other constrictions by strings or belts are quite as much to be avoided. One word here about the Corset. We do not wish to be considered its irreconcila- ble enemy ; it is its abuse only which must be condemned. A corset with very soft, elastic stays is not only comfortable to the wearer by supporting the bust and giving strength and stamina to the whole body, but it has also the effect of improving the figure HEALTH-GTVIXG RECREATION. 457 458 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. and rendering it agreeable to the beholder. A tightly laced waist, however, is exceed- ingly unhealthy and far from beautiful. The practice of Gymnastics, or Calisthen- ics, as they are more commonly called among us, not only tends to expand the chest and lungs, but serves also to strengthen the heart, causing its muscular elements to become strongly developed and its contractions more forcible and regular. It must always be understood, however, that exercise, as well as work, should not be in- dulged in to excess. Exertion and Rest. Only moderate, well-regulated exercise in pure air, or bodily work executed under similar conditions, is capable of strengthen- ing the heart and lungs, and, by improving the circulation, the tissues of the whole body. An important consideration in this respect is the maintenance of a proper balance between exertion and rest. If mus- cular effort is continued too long, the effect on the muscles is the same as that of pro- longed rest ; they are weakened and finally become unfit for any exertion. The skin does its share in the work of purifying the blood by means of its gaseous exhalations and of the perspiration. Its other functions are numerous. It protects the sensitive nerve ends through whose agency we experience the sensation of touch, and it is the great regulator of animal heat. Still another use is that of respiration : Aubert has shown by experiment that the skin gives off carbonic acid and absorbs oxygen. For these reasons it is important that it should be well cared for. The temperature of the body is regulated by the evaporation upon its surface : the heat necessary for the evaporation of the water in the capillaries of the skin is drawn from the general heat- supply of the body. The greater the amount of evaporation, therefore, the greater is the reduction of temperature, and vice versa. This regulation of bodily heat is assisted to a certain extent by the hair upon the skin, and by the dress. The principal requirement for a normal action of the skin is cleanliness. To this end frequent Bathing and change of cloth- ing are indispensable. In cold weather, however, it is not advisable to wash the exposed portions of the skin, the face and hands, too often, nor even to wash them in cold water at all. Lukewarm water should always be made use of, together with a mild soap, the alternative being the chapping of the hands and face, and even the appearance of salt rheum or eczema upon the skin. When frequent washings cannot be avoided in the winter time, the exposed portions should be rubbed with freshly prepared cold cream, vaseline, or glycerine. Vapor Baths. A vapor or hot air bath may be indulged in now and then as a means of thorough, cleansing ; but it should never be undertaken by persons affected with lung or heart diseases, and therefore never without the advice of a physician. The Hair of the scalp and beard must be properly cared for. The use of some fatty substance, preferably an animal, not a vege- table fat, is beneficial. The stronger the individual constitution, the thicker, as a general rule, will be the hair, while in sickly persons and those whose blood is thin the hair is badly nour- ished and in poor condition. The fatty matter, which naturally exudes from the skin and permeates the hair, causes it to remain moist, soft, and pliable, while without GOOD HEALTH. 459' it all the water contained in the hair would evaporate and leave the hairs dry and friable- The careful removal of dandruff, which owes its origin mostly to dust and to the use of certain kinds of pomade, is absolutely neces- sary to the growth of the hair and to its proper lubrication by the fatty matters of the skin. The condition of the scalp, therefore, is of very material importance to the growth of the hair. Washing the scalp with spirits is unwise, since it causes great irritation : a much better plan is to use the yolk of an egg or diluted honey. Girls and women should never tie their hair too tightly, nor should men and boys wet theirs nor have it cut too often. Danger of Taking Cold. Of all the vicissitudes our skin is called upon to endure the most frequent and the most carefully to be guarded against is Exposure to Cold. An intense cold, a wind, or a draft of air striking the skin while hot and perspiring, causes not infrequently a sudden contraction or dilation of the blood- vessels in some particular organ, resulting in what we call " taking cold." A cold may be contracted, however, from agencies of much slower operation, as, for instance, from wearing too thin clothing, from throwing off the covers while sleeping during the night, from sleeping next to a cold wall without protection from it, from living for a long time in cold and damp apartments, from standing in water while at work, or from a damp, cold atmosphere. Sheep's wool, if worn next the skin, pro- tects directly from colds, as it imbibes the perspiration quickly : thus the skin remains dry and the seat of evaporation is changed. It is especially advisable for those who per- spire freely to wear woolen underclothing during hot weather. The best preventive against taking cold is the plan of keeping the feet, the back, and the abdomen constantly warm, without, however, raising too much the temperature of other regions. Chmate should influence the manner of living and of dress. Our feelings as to tem- perature in different climates depend largely upon habit. When the inhabitants of tem- perate climates are freezing, Esquimaux feel comfortable ; and when the former experi- ence comfort, those from a tropical country are apt to feel cold. Right Kind of Clothing. The difference between black clothing and- white is well known. Black absorbs heat rapidly, while white does so to only a very slight degree. The former color is therefore best adapted to cold seasons and climates,, the latter to a heated atmosphere. Black goods also possess the property of absorbing with facility the vapors which contain infec- tious germs, and for this reason dark woolen: dresses are inadmissible for nurses. Every article of wearing apparel should be made sufficiently large to admit of the free passage of air between the clothing and the skin. Evaporation and consequent coolness of the skin are thereby promoted. Clothing; of ample proportions is therefore to be recommended during the hot season, as welS as to those who live in hot countries. But loosely-cut clothing is also very agreeable m cold weather on account of the disadvan- tages of tightly-fitting articles, such, for instances, as gloves and shoes. A very objectionable and even dangerous habit is- that of wearing garments which compress the neck, the chest, or the region of the stomach. The Head, being protected by hair, should be covered only lightly, and should be kept 460 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. cool. Only heat, cold and wet are to be guarded against. The hat should be very- light, and should not fit the head too closply. It should not be kept longer than strictly necessary upon the head, and should be provided with due means of ventilation. Failure to observe the above rules will often lead to baldness. Hats of braided horse- hair are the best for summer use, but pre- ferably a parasol should be used as a protec- tion against the rays of the sun, and the hat should be carried in the hand. The Neck should be left uncovered from childhood up. Stiff, high cravats and collars ought not to be worn, but only such as are large enough to admit the introduction of, at least, three fingers. Paper collars are often impregnated with zinc or lead, and may become dangerous to persons who per- spire a great deal. Injuries from Tight Dresses. The Chest should be clothed in garments sufficiently loose to allow of full expansion. Tightly-fitting dresses and corsets in the case of women and vests or coats tightly but- toned up to the neck are unhealthy in mas- culine attire. The Corset is used in a most unreason- able manner so frequently that the wish to see it discarded absolutely is a very preva- lent one. This, however, is not to be ex- pected, and, if due attention be paid to the rational construction and sensible wearing of the garment, is unnecessary. At all events young girls should not be allowed to wear corsets before the age of puberty. For wo- men it should be so arranged that the region just below the ribs may not be compressed ; for, around the pit of the stomach are grouped in the interior of the body the most important vital organs, the heart and lungs above the diaphragm, and the liver, stomach and spleen below it. The normal action of these organs suffers, of course, by compression. The dire effects of tight lacing are very evident in some cases : the liver, and some- times the spleen, show grooves caused by the pressure of the ribs and of the sharp extremity of the breast bone. How could such organs continue to act normally? It. is impossible, and the purification of the blood as well as the formation of the bile are impeded by the crippled condition of the organs upon which they depend. Paralyzing the Muscles. The surgeon knows very well the weak- ening effect of corsets upon the muscles they compress. A leg just released from aplaster- of-paris casing, which has held it far more loosely than a corset, is, nevertheless, emaci- ated, and remains weak for a certain time. Still more does the corset, instead of improv- ing the figure, utterly disfigure it by render- ing the muscles of the back and chest more or less incapable of use. No one would think of putting a paralyzed arm into a spHnt ; on the contrary, one would exercise it, employ it, apply massage to it : but a weak back we swathe in bandages, instead of bathing, rubbing and exercising it : in other words, we complete the paralyzing process. A second effect of wearing corsets is the restraint they impose upon the movements of respiration. If we measure with a spiro- meter the quantity of air which can be in- haled and that which can be exhaled, we find that from twenty to thirty-four per cent, less air is inhaled beneath a tightly-fitting corset than when the corset is loosely worn. Such a sequence must inevitably deplete the circulation and predispose to consumption. "The more nearly a woman's waist is wr 461 462 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. shaped like an hour-glass, the more certainly does it show us that her sands of life are running out." The Feet are frequently tortured by tight shoes, whose pressure impairs their health- fulness of function. Cotton stockings are preferable except for those who suffer from ■excessive sweating of the feet : these should wear woolen stockings constantly. Rubbers and arctics are very useful in cold and wet weather, but should always be removed while in a warm room. Rubbers are not to foe recommended for constant wear, because they interfere with proper ventilation of the ^eet. Two pairs of shoes are desirable for ■each individual, to be worn on alternate days, since a single night's exposure to the air in usually insufficient to free these articles from moisture. Slaves to Dress. All articles of clothing should be changed .as frequently as possible. Especially should wet garments be replaced by dry ones as •soon as opportunity offers. Cases of arseni- cal poisoning have occasionally been ob- served as a result of wearing goods in whose coloring matter arsenic is found. Green colors are most suspicious in this connection. Many refined women complain that equality of rights is denied them and that they are thereby kept in subjection to the male sex. The greater subjection however would seem to be that which they endure of their own accord. A woman who wishes to appear ladylike must pay dearly in a certain species of slave-chains : for the iron-clad, steel-plated corsets which prohibit free mobility and suppress all feeling of personal liberty, the painting of the face, the sleeves which fit tightly like bands about the arms and restrain motion at shoulder and elbow, the high-heeled shoes, all enemies of com- fort and health — by what other name shall we call these? And to what purpose such endurance? Only to disfigure and degrade the finest piece of nature's handiwork, lovely woman. Sensible men mvariably prefer the natural appearance and simplicity of manner to those artificial ones which so often only serve as a cloak to the reality. The women of ancient Greece were far wiser in this regard than those of the latter day : they knew full well that health means beauty, and they acted upon this knowledge. Blind Devotees of Fashion. It seems to us full time for the refined American lady to emancipate herself from fasionable humbuggery in dress and to send a real declaradon of independence from a senseless tyranny to those aristocratic dames of Continental monarchies who at present dictate fashion. By so doing, no doubt she runs the risk of losing the sympathy of weak-minded dudes, who are either aristocrats themselves, or who assume aristocratic airs ; but in this we can see no disadvantage, for she would gain thereby the respect of men who are genuine representatives of republi- can intellect, sense and character. We cannot too strongly deprecate the laying of too much stress upon the question of dress and upon external appearance in general. It always shows lack of good taste, and it may in the end undermine the moral nature of the individual. Children should be brought up with this principle in view. They should never be restrained by dress from that full liberty of movement which ensures perfection of physical develop- ment. But while we thus strongly object to the fashionable attire of women, we must not be understood to maintain that the dress of the GOOD HEALTH. 463 stronger sex is any more an ideal one. The style of dress adopted by the ancient Greeks and Romans was far more sensible and prac- tical, especially in summer, as is that of the Mohammedan peoples of the Orient to-day, admitting as it does far greater liberty of movement. Among our own people the costume of the American mountaineer may be commended for comfort and convenience, and its use advocated everywhere in summer, -even in the large cities. Sensible Garments. The climate of America is a milder one than we or our ancestors have been accus- tomed to in Europe. Loose-fitting clothing, therefore, is more appropriate here than there, and only when the winter season brings a return of arctic rigors should resort "be had again to the bondage of high collars, gloves, and silk hats. In any case we can well afford to do away with the short over- coat, which not only gives a ridiculous appearance to the figure, but is totally inade- quate to give needed protection to the abdo- men. Light is an essential of life, not only by its direct action upon the skin and by serv- ing as the medium of vision, but also in- directly, because through, by, and in it alone can the development of oxygen in the vegetable organism take place. This process results in the exhalation of oxygen by the leaves and other organs of the plant, while they inhale and decompose carbonic acid in order to utilize the carbon for the nourish- ment of the organism. Moleschott calls both flowers and fruits "children of the light, woven from sunny air." They are condensed sunbeams, so to speak. With vegetable matter, in the form of coal and wood, we heat our rooms ; and by using vegetable substances as food we are enabled to perform muscular work and exer- cise. Thus, light is the indispensable medium of life, while plants, animals and human beings, deprived of Ught, it has often been illustrated, become pale and emaciated and soon perish. Sunlight aids in maintaining the purity of the atmosphere by the part it takes in trans- forming the chlorophyll of the green por- tions of plants. By its influence the air is freed from carbonic acid, whose poison would, otherwise, collect in increasing quan- tities, and which it replaces with invigorat- ing oxygen. So efficient a purifier of the atmosphere is sunlight that it assists the oxidation of the organic materials it contains and so their removal. That Musty Smell. For instance, the musty smell which strikes one so disagreeably in living rooms is stronger and more tenacious in northerly rooms than in those Avhich face southward and which are consequently exposed to the sun. Finally, sunlight destroys certain micro-organisms in their very germs. The influence exerted by lack of sunlight upon the development of disease has been esti- mated from statistics collected among the children reared in Rostock at the public ex- pense. Of ninety-eight such children twelve were affected with scrofula, that precursor of con- sumption, of whom four lived in cellars and five in dark attics, where the sun could not penetrate. And in Italy, the classical abode of that disease, the origin of malaria may frequently be traced to the same cause. The air of a well-lighted room is better than that of a dark one. Thus the Italian sa\-ing, "Where the sun does not enter the doctor does," may be regarded as tolerably correct. Sunlight gives courage and hope 464 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. and makes us glad, free and happy. If the sky is overcast, if fog and darkness reign supreme, then beware of melanchoHa, of hypochondria, of despondency bordering upon suicidal mania. Too much sunlight, however, like every other excess, works harm. The weary trav- eler, wending his way through the southern Sahara, treads upon sar.d in which an egg is hardened within a few minutes. No wonder his feet are soon covered with blisters ; no wonder the exposed portions of his skin are soon scorched and blistered too by the merci- less rays of the fiery orb. The Nervous System. The danger from exposure to heat in our climate is of a somewhat different kind. In our large cities we are affected, not only by the direct rays of the sun, but also by the heat that is reflected from the sun-scorched walls of buildings and from the stones of pavements and sidewalks. In open country the conditions are decidedly better.. The air is purer, and the lawns and meadows and woods absorb much of the heat, so that radiation is much diminished. It is in ac- cordance with this suggestion from nature that we try to protect ourselves against too strong light by using shades for our eyes to reflect the rays of heat and light. For a similar reason also it is that we wear light clothes in summer. The nervous system requires food that is rich in albuminous and fatty matter. Phos- phorous is absolutely indispensable, since nervous tissues contain a large amount of it, partly in albuminous compounds, and partly in alkaline phosphates. Milk, eggs and meat are therefore the best foods for nourish- ing and strengthening the nervous system, together with sufficient quantities of fat and carbo-hydrates. The circulation of blood through the organs of nervous action must be properly regulated. This may be achieved by suit- able exercise and deep inspirations. Light, warmth, and pure air, the air of the forest in particular, tend to improve the health of these organs. Any organ in the human body, if put to but little use, gradually diminishes, it is found,, in force and energy, continued inactivity leading to a complete withering of its sub- stance. In like manner a brain kept in a state of inactivity loses by degrees its power of perception and judgment. This is best illustrated in certain instances where children have grown up among animals, without any intercourse with human beings. Such children have been found incapable of speech, unable to tell right from wrong, and exhibiting no trace of reason : their feats of bodily skill and activity however are supe- rior to those of which most animals are capable. How the Brain is Nourished. Our brains are best nourished and strength- ened by work, just as our muscles become harder and firmer by constant use. The brains of men Avho have done considerable mental work during life show some peculiari- ties which illustrate this principle ; the sub- stance of the brain is of unusually hard consistency, and the gray matter is remark- ably developed. It seems more than prob- able that the continually increasing size of the human skull, especially of its anterior portion, is due solely to the progress of civilization. The human race, at least, is constantly perfecting its intellectual resources and capabiUties. This because of the com- bined influences of heredity and education which are constantly at work, moulding and shaping men and their intellects, their brain ; GATHERING THE FRUITS OF AUTUMN. 465 466 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. and their skulls. The use of any part of the body has its effect upon the part used. The selection of brain work requires a great deal of care. Beginning with easy and gradually progressing to harder tasks will never occasion dangerous after effects, such as we frequently observe in children. Their brains are normally much softer and contain a larger amount of liquid contents than those of adults, and they should there- fore be very carefully dealt with. Still worse is the experiment so often tried in our schools of forcing sickly, anaemic children to the same rate of progress with those who are healthy. For the former, inasmuch as their brain-substance is poorly nourished, are far too slow to satisfy their instructors, and in some instances are entirely unfit for mental effort. This sort of forcible intellectual training, of which •many parents and many teachers are guilty, is the more harmful to a growing brain, the less satisfactory are the external conditions surrounding the child, such as improper feeding, poor living, and insufficient rest. Unnatural Excitements. Nothing is so hurtful to a brain as dispro- portion between work and rest. Mental vigor is always impaired by over-exertion at hard and long-continued labor, by irrita- tion from frequent and unnaturally violent nervous impressions, by want of sleep, or by severe intellectual effort. Among the causes of unnatural excite- ment alcohoHc liquors play an important part. At first they seem to enliven and stimulate the brain to greater activity, but soon the weakening and depressing effects manifest themselves. Sleep is absolutely indispensable to main- taining the normal composition of the brain substance and thereby to the proper supply of bra'n force. The more work the brain has accomplished, the more sleep is neces- sary for recuperation. Sleep will refresh and invigorate the brain, as well as the ner- vous and muscular systems, only when it lasts sufficiently long, and when it is unin- terrupted, sound, and quiet. To fulfil these conditions must therefore be our aim. Atten- tion must consequently be paid, not only to the frequency, the regularity, and the length of the period in sleep, but also to the sur- roundings during sleep. Sleeping Apartments. The Bedroom should be spacious, moder- ately warm and quiet, and its air should be kept dry and pure. It should face toward the south, and should be as far removed as possible from all damp, mouldy, and ill- smeUing localities. If one person sleeps alone in a large room whose window he does not wish to keep open over night, he should at all events thoroughly ventilate the apart- ment for sortie length of time before retiring. But when several persons sleep in the same room the air can only be kept pure by con- stant ventilation. Leaving the windows open all day long, but closing them at night, does not afford sufficient change of air. In a badly ventilated bedroom one is extremely liable to inhale the floating germs of disease and other noxious particles during sleep. For this reason perhaps, infectious diseases occur much more frequently in winter, when ventilation is not so thorough as in warmer seasons, most persons being unreasonably afraid on account of the cold. Good venti- lation however tends rather to establish cur- rents of air, which remove these germs completely, or at least in large part; and even, should some enter the body, the latter will be in better condition to resist their action on account of its increased supply of GOOD HEALTH. 467 With body erect and hands at sides, move With hands on the hips, the head to right and move the upper part of the left, and forward and body to right and left, and backward ; strength- forward and backward ; this ■ens the muscles of the strengthens the muscles of neck. the chest and back. You should always be careful not to overstrain any of your muscles. Here lies one of the dangers of exercise. The exercise itself is good and in every way advantageous, but you are constantly on the border line of excess. And muscles injured by straining may be a long time in recovering. Never attempt to take exercise when your muscles feel sore and unequal to the task. It should not be difficult for you to get limbered up ; if it is, your muscles have been overworked. Close the hands, extend the arms in front as shown by the dotted lines, and bring the hands together behind the back ; repeat at least twenty times. Stand erect, with arms straight at the sides ; raise and lower the arms as shown in. the figure ; repeat at least twenty times. Your arms are a considerable part of yourself and a very important part. And, like other portions of the body, they are capable of being strengthened and made more efficient than they ever would be without proper exercise. You should practice gym- nastics until the muscles are hard and strong, yet it is not the amount of muscle that should be con- sidered, but its quality. Hold the right arm out horizontally, palm of hand iipward ; double the left arm, the tips of the fingers resting on the shoulder ; then stretch out the left arm, at the same time bringing the right arm to the position shown by the dotted lines ; repeat, and then make the movements with both arms simultaneously. 468 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. oxygen. Perhaps also the germs are ren- dered harmless in a mechanical -way by good ventilation ; while in impure and damp air, where respiration is not so well sustained, germs which have already been inhaled are less likely to continue floating in the inspired air and to be exhaled with it before effecting a lodgment. Healthy individuals can surely sleep with open windows, when in some English and German hospitals the sick are compelled to do so to their great benefit, the only precau- tion taken being to avoid a draft directly upon the person. In various German insti- tutions for the treatment of consumptives it is an inflexible rule that patients are not allowed indoors : not only do they he upon cots in the open air all day, but at night they are removed into open tents ; this treatment being attended by the most gratifying results. Too Much Ventilation. In regions, however, where intermittent or yellow fever prevails, and where various forms of malaria are indigenous, ventilation must be very carefully regulated, the win- dows being opened only during the day, for at night the poisonous exhalations from the ground are most active, especially if rain has fallen shortly before. And indeed, under all circumstances it is safer, when windows are left open, to sleep in a room as far as possible from the ground. These rules become less imperative after a long drouth and during continuous rain or cold northerly winds. In winter time in our climate the stove is a bad neighbor so far as the supply of fresh air is concerned, for it needs a great deal of oxygen, twenty-four times as much as a man, and this it robs from its human room- mates, only to return them an occasional whiff of smoke mingled with treacherous gases. But ventilation will overcome all this, if sleeping in a cold room is not con- sidered desirable. When the windows are open, enough oxygen will be supplied to' the sleepers as well as to the stove. All lights should be extinguished befo.e retiring, as their presence is irritating, not only to the eye, but also to the brain. The worst of all lights to sleep by is a gas light, unless turned quite low, for a strong gas jet consumes twelve times as much oxygen ax a man, and for this reason it should at all times be avoided where ventilation is not good. Warm Covering at Night. A few other points may be referred to in connection with sleep. The covers should be drawn up over the stomach in order to keep it warm. For full-blooded persons the pillow should be moderately high, so th.t the head is raised above the level of tl:c body. In the case of one with impoverished blood, however, it is generally better to sleep with the head lower, and even en a level with the body. Lying upon the Lac!; is to be avoided, since it may cause irritalicn of the spine and consequent nervous excite- ments. When constipation exists, phy: i- should be taken at such a time that its efiect will not disturb the night's rest. Other natural desires should be heeded at once, because quiet sleep is impossible i:nle?:s this be done. Another rule indispensable to good he;-Lii is, never to sleep upon a feather bed. Owing to the non-conductive properties of feathers, the gases of the body, so detrimental to the human system, accumulate within the so.''t mass. Moreover these beds are the genera; reservoirs of the various exhalations fron: different bodies which ha\c lain upon thc;v. Hence husk, palm-ler.f cr hair mattress-. s GOOD HEALTH. 469 Holding the arms straight, swing them with a rotary motion, thrusting them forward as they are tlevated and backward as they are lowered, bringing them to the sides, and then repeat. Give full swing to yonr arms. Do not get into a cramped position. Let all your movements be free. Expand the chest by full breathing and keep the body erect. Let the clothing be loose and wear little during your exercise. Lift the hands from the sides to the shoulders, then raise the arms at full length above the head, and also extend them horizontally as shown in the dotted lines. Standing erect, with the hands on the hips, lower the body as shown in the figure, and rise ; repeat at least fifteen times, but not too fast. Placing the hands on the hips, right leg forward and left leg slightly bent, bring the body into the position of the dotted lines ; then placing the left leg forward, repeat movements. Be careful not to strain the muscles of the back or lower limbs while going through these exercises. Be deliberate and go slowly. Nothing can be gained by haste. With the body bent forward, closed hands be- tween the knees, raise the body and elevate the hands above the head, taking care to keep the arms straight ; repeat Place the hands on the front side of the hips, bend the body forward, and then rise to an erect position ; at the same time throwing the head backward ; repeat. 470 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. should be adopted in their place. These can easily be obtained. A proper alternation between exercise and rest is a prime necessity for a healthy condi- tion of the muscular system. Muscular fatigue is caused by the accumulation in the muscles of waste products, which are formed more rapidly by exertion than they can be carried away in the blood-stream. But there is still another source of fatigue. The oxygen necessary to the proper performance of muscular work is present in the muscle beforehand, and its store cannot be replen- ished during exercise. When therefore the amount of oxygen present is exhausted, fatigue begins. A fatigued muscle is phys- ically and chemically different from what it was before its task was commenced. Rest alone can restore it to its former condition. How to Rest the Brain. By the constantly alternating pressure which a contracting muscle exerts on the blood and lymph vessels in its neighborhood the circulation of these liquids is accelerated, the current in the veins, which return the blood from the general system to the heart, being particularly influenced. It is well known that when attention is con- centrated upon certain nerves and muscles, the muscular exertion relieves the tension of the brain ; and thus the fact is explained that hard bodily work and continued muscular exercise free the mind temporarily of many of its cares. The elimination of waste ma- terial takes place chiefly during rest, and mostly through the kidneys in the form of urea, as we have already seen. At this time the flow of blood to the muscles increases, new material is furnished them in abundance, and new muscle and nerve substance is formed in store for future demand. Muscular exercise is of paramount im- portance, for every movement and almost every activity of the body is due to muscu- lar exertion. The same agency farthermore generates manual dexterity and force, strengthens the will, quiets the brain, helps develop the bones of the frame, and assists greatly those important physiological pro- cesses, circulation and purification of the blood, the movements cf respiration and digestion. Violent Exercise, By overexertion much harm may be done, weakness induced amounting almost to palsy, enormous development cf the mus- cular system effected at the expense of other organs, particularly the brain, which. then becomes very slow and dull, anaemia devel- oped in consequence of overtaxing cf the blood, enlargement of the heart brou2;ht about with palpitation, and dilatation of the lungs with asthma. Disfigurements and deformities of various kinds are likely to result, when certain parts, only of the muscular system are used. Fre- quent and rational use of a muscle, followed by sufficient I'est, will make it plump, hard and strong, while continuous inactivity renders it flabby, thin, and at last fatty. Subjoined are certain Rules to be ob- served during Exercise. All tight clothing,, especially about the neck and chest, must be removed. The various sets of muscles should be trained, and, therefore, the move- ments must involve all the joints, alternat- ing systematically. The muscles of respira- tion and those of the abdomen should be- particularly remembered. The various, troubles of the digestive organs are thus favorably influenced, and affections of the heart and lungs successfully combated, inas- much as a narrow chest may be broadened by rendering the contractions of the respira- GOOD HEALTH. 471 Steady yourself with one hand on a chair ; place the other hand on the hip and swing the leg as shown in the figure ; repeat, and then swing the other leg in like manner. The lower limbs always get good exercise from walking, but there are various motions which they obtain only by a proper system of gymnastics. Bear in mind that the lower limbs are constantly brought into use, and the more perfect they are in form and efficiency the better it is for the whole body. You should exercise the leg muscles regularly, as thereby they become stronger and better able to perform their work. Weak lower limbs give a young man the appearance of a tottering old man whose vitality has long since had its day. Steady yourself with one hand on a chair, place the other hand on the hip, and swing the leg forward and backward ; repeat, and then swing the other leg in like manner. Stretch the body forward, placing the hands on a chair ; then straighten the arms and raise the bo(l\-. This must not be repeated so many times as to render the muscles sore and stiff. This figure shows the position of the body after it is raised from the chair according to directions ac- companying preceding figure ; do not make t^ie movements rapidly, as this will produce exhaustion. With arms bent, hold the wan ,1 behind the back as shown by the figure ; this throws the chest f.T- ward ; then bend and straighten the legs alternate' y. 472 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. tory muscles more efficient. A narrow chest is ominous of lung disease. Extreme fatigue should never be induced. As soon as there is an appreciable feeling of fatigue, exercise should be suspended. Al- though the number of working hours in Europe exceeds that customary in the United States, the amount of work per- formed here is greater and produces more fatigue. Rest should continue until all feel- ing of fatigue is gone. The intensity and duration of the move- ments practiced must be increased very grad- ually, if increase of muscular strength is ■desired. Nutrition must be proportioned to the activity of the body, otherwise the system will succumb. Poor diet will always tell at last, because income and expenditure -are not equalized. Take in a Full Breath. Pure air and full breathing are required during and after exercise : the latter not only promotes change of air in the lungs, but also quickens the functions of circula- tion and digestion. As soon as rapid re- spiration and palpitation set in exercise should cease ; also when headache, dizzi- ness and other disagreeable sensations are present, when the face becomes pale and pinched or flushes suddenly, or when a feel- ing of great heat or excessive prespiration sets in. People who suffer from heart or lung diseases must be particularly cautious as to exercise. Eating must be avoided shortly before or shortly after any considerable exertion, as digestion is thereby impaired. Exposure to cold on such an occasion is especially in- jurious to the heart. When not in a posi- tion to practice muscular exercise, massage of the muscles should take its place. If the above rules are followed closely. the salutary effects of exercise will be speed- ily experienced. Affections of the brain and nervous organism of a functional nature, such as hysteria, hypochondriasis, melan- cholia, sleeplessness, and despondency, will soon disappear. Disturbances of the circu- lation will be improved or wholly cured, since the heart and blood-vessels are enabled to contract more forcibly. The blood will become healthier, because the waste material is carried off more efficiently. Outdoor Sports. Persons suffering from gout, rheumatism, or obesity will feel as though created anew, and anaemic and chlorotic girls will regain their color and lose the curvatures and deformities of the spine which are due to muscular weakness. Healthy exercise is best obtained through such sports as rowing, skating, swimming, fencing, tennis-playing, bicycling, and horse- back riding. Dancing in itself is a healthy exercise, but it is almost invariably overdone, and the surrounding conditions are decidedly unfavorable ; no rest is taken between the dances; it is indulged in at night after the proper bed-time, in tightly fitting dresses, and in hot, dusty, poorly ventilated halls, crowded with people ; then also it lasts too long, and too much drinking is habitually indulged in at balls, parties, and similar assemblages. Dancing on platforms erected in the open air in shady places, preferably in the woods, is far less objectionable. The action of cold upon the skin and lungs is much to be dreaded, and sudden changes of air when dancing must be carefully guarded against. Gymnastics and mountain-chmbing are upon the whole the best methods of exer- cise, provided the rules we have given are acted upon. The air in large cities is far GOOD HEALTH. 473 This is an exercise to strengthen the muscles of the wrists aud arms, and consists in holding the dumb bells out and bending the wrists each way as far as possible. Dumb bells furnish excellent exercise, but they should not be too heavy, nor should they be used very long at any one time. When j-our muscles begin to feel tired lay down the dumb bells at once. Exercise is of little use to you after it becomes wearisome. You should always enjoy it and it should exhilarate every part of j'ou. With arms extended side- wise, palms downward, Hold the bells high lower the bells to the sides above the head, then and raise them ; repeat, lower and elevate the then strike the bells _to- arms at least a dozen gether m front and behind times. the back. This figure shows the rotary motion with dumb bells. Bend the body forward, resting the weight on one foot, then on the other, swinging the bells low as you change from one foot to the other. The necessity of physical education for girls is now generally recognized. We do not need any labored argument on this point. Healthful exercise is conducive to health, and health is what the Ameri- can woman needs. The exercises here recommended are the best and can easily be practiced by all. A girl's gymnastic dress should be loose through- out and gathered at the waist. Stand erect with hands on the hips and light weight on the head ; then rise on the toes and fall. 474 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. from possessing the purity desirable to prac- tice athletic exercises in, and it ij better on this account to establish the gymnasium in the upper part of the house. Calisthenics are coming more and more into use every day for ladies and girls, although much still remains to be done toward their perfection. This is a branch of education which deserves wider attention — not only that it is much more healthy than many semi-superfluous theoretical studies ; but it actually tends to improve the com- plexion and beautify the face and figure. Benefits of Mountain-Climbing. Nothing should be regarded as of greater importance than healthy exercise, and there is no exercise preferable to mountain-climb- ing. Here a variety of favorable conditions obtain, healthy ground, pure air, a healthful mode of exercise promotive of vigorous res- piration and digestion, and the profound enjoyment and equanimity which accompany the constantly changing aspects of beautiful and majestic landscapes. In mountain- climbing accordingly, to the directly bene- ficial effect upon the health of the individual we find added the peculiar gratification enjoyed by every lover of nature. The strengthening and invigorating effect of exercise, and especially of mountain- climbing, is warmly to be commended. For the latter, by the relief it gives from the cares of business, combined with residence in a healthful locality, active respiration of pure air, and the drinking of pure water, exerts not only a transitory beneficial effect, but even, in most cases, leads to permanent cure of disease or tends to prevent its occur- rence. The best inhalation apparatus, baths, and medicaments are of but temporary value, if no compensation is made for the loss of vitality and of muscular tone, especially that of the heart and blood-vessels ; if the blood- stasis in the glands and other organs does not yield to an increased flow of blood in arteries and veins ; if the thinned blood does not become thicker and more rich in albu- men ; if the accumulating carbonic acid is not expelled by a more plentiful supply of oxygen ; if the fat deposited in the body is not more rapidly oxidized ; and if the kid- neys are not made to act more efficiently. But all these effects are produced more certainly and more promptly by mountain- climbing than in any other way. After several weeks spent in mountain excursions, the condition of the patient is radically changed for the better. There is an elastic- ity of the mental processes in place of the former dullness; will, thought, and impulse seem to move on wings ; the formerly dull senses are sharpened ; the formerly half- closed eyes sparkle, and the flabby cheeks become full and rosy ; the once prominent abdomen is reduced to more seemly dimen- sions, notwithstanding that food and drink are taken with greater relish ; while the chest is expanded. New Life and Vigor. These changes, it is true, are not without their inconveniences to the patient as regards his apparel, for his unmentionables are found to have become much too large around the waist, while his coat, collar and shirt have grown too small. He who was before so heavy and dull now feels as elastic and sprightly as if the burden of earthly existence had been lifted from his shoulders, and, almost as in his childhood days, goes- running and springing along, covering a dis- tance of ten or twelve miles a day. He has no longer the shape of a discontented and surly creature, a parody on mankind, but GOOD HEALTH. 475 Grasp the wand, about three feet in length, with both hands, then raise the wand as high as the head, and lower to the above position ; repeat twenty times. There can be no perfection of womanhood without the development of her physical nature. To a very great extent, the mind is dependent upon the body. In order to think, to study, to perform household duties, to appear well in society and make the best of yourself, you must have sound and robust health. A thin, pale, puny, half-lifeless woman is a dis- credit to her sex. She is poorly fitted for the high- est duties and activities of life. She is unattractive, and lacks that sprightliness of mind and bloom of countenance which are among her chief charms. A course of physical training would rejuvenate her. Hold the wand as in the figure, one arm at the side, then rotate the wand over the head, bringing the other arm to the side ; repeat twenty times. Hold the wand and one arm horizontally, with other arm bent, then bend the straight arm and straighten the bent ; loosen the fingers and clasp the wand again with each movement. These exercises will not come easy to you at first. You may think you are very awkward and afford amusement to those who are looking on. It will, however, take only a very short time for you to accustom yourself to calistUenics, and if you do not enjoy them thoroughly you will be different from the vast majority of ladies. Here, as elsewhere, practice makes perfect. Yoa should patiently con- tinue in wel]-doin!7. Holding the wand high above the head, lower it to the breast, then elevate it, then swing it over the head backward, changing the hands so as to retain the hold. 476 THE CARDINAL VIRTUES. fits better in the ranks among other strong and happy beings : he is possessed of a new spirit, his pulse beats more strongly, and the tone of his entire circulatory system is better. The value of such exercise in the cure of various diseases is more and more recog- nized every day. Systematic exercise of this nature is now practiced at several institutions in Germany having large tracts of moun- tainous land about them laid out with graded walks for the cure of heart troubles, of obesity, and even of consumption. These are intended, of course, for those who are allowed a certain amount of exer- cise only. For others, suffering from vari- ous forms of chronic disease, such as rheu- matism, gout, dyspepsia, ansemia and other circulatory disturbances, mountain excur- sions are organized under the supervision of a physician, the walking and climbing being systematically undertaken, and the progress and effect of the exercise carefully watched. But if you cannot reach a mountain to climb it, you should not neglect the very healthful exercise of walking on level ground. which is one of the best means of strength- ening and preserving health. In Greece, those who practiced running were incredibly swift, while of the old Teu- tons it is reported that they were able to jump over five or six horses standing abreast. There are people who can swim many miles at a stretch. The cowboys on our western plains, the Csikos in Hungary, the Gauchos in the Argentine RepubHc, and the Cossacks in Russia excel in horseback exercise. Con- tortionists, snakemen, india-rubber men and kickers are able to turn and twist their bod- ies and limbs in an almost inconceivable manner, the result of long and hard practice. Again, there are laborers in Bulgaria, Albania and Armenia who can carry as much as four hundred or five hundred pounds up the mountains. The Roman Emperor Maximinian was so strong that he could successfully oppose the strength of two horses in drawing a load. There are mountaineers, who on level ground could not beat a champion runner, but who on a mountain ascent would without effort leave the same adversary far behind. Hold the wand on the shoulders as seen in the figure ; then straighten the right arm, at the same time drawing in and bending the left ; repeat. Placing the wand on the shoulders as seen in the iigure, bring the arms to the position shown in the dotted lines ; repeat a number of times. GOOD HEALTH. 477 Hold the wand behind the back as seen in the figure, then bring the arms to the position shown by the dotted lines ; repeat and alternate. Do not be discouraged if you seem to make slow progress in physical culture. You pursue such studies as the common school branches, ancient and modern languages, music, drawing, painting, etc., for years ; why, in hke manner, should you not spend years in the cultivation of bodily health and the development of all your physical powers? From day to day you can see no marked improvement, but think of the change there will be a year or two years from now. Place the feet close together, hold the body ercci, clasp the wand with both hands and swing it to right and left, keeping the arms straight. Be careful to undertake only such exercises as are suited to your health and physical condition. You are not aiming to become masculine, or do what only men are expected to do. Think not for a moment that there is anything unwomanly in those sports, pleasures and physical exercises, that will strengthen every part of the body and give fresh tone and vigor to the whole system. Be persistent, enthusiastic and regular in your practice. ^^^ \ \ Hold the wand as shown in From the above figure the reader will form a good idea of the general the figure, the right arm ele- movements in the use of Indian clubs. He can vary the movements so as ch?st-''tlien^b swi'n^in^faSe to give exercise to all the muscles of the arms, shoulders, chest, and abdo- theleftarm and bring the right men. Clubs weighing two pounds apiece are heavy enough for ordinary across the chest ; repeat- exercise. 478 OVERCOMING DIFFICULTIES.