3 .•iwil. 
 
 
 
 » AT % 
 
 9a * • » * * a9 ^ " • • ° 
 
 
 
 
 
 -S*** 
 
 > 
 
 V 
 
 
 
 
 o v *••• 
 
• ° J • 
 
 ^ 
 
U : . E R k r : - M D L 
 
A 
 
 TRUE FRIEND. 
 
 REFLECTIONS 
 
 ON 
 
 LIFE, CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 
 
 i. 
 
 A COLLECTION. 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 ^c«'^ 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 A. J. CAMPBELL 
 
 CLEVELAND, O. 
 1 8 8 O 
 

 Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year 1866, by 
 
 A. J. CAMPBELL, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, 
 
 for the Northern District of Ohio. 
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by 
 
 A. J. CAMPBELL, 
 
 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, by 
 
 A. J. CAMPBELL, 
 in the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Introductory 5 
 
 Man and Woman 21 
 
 Childhood 6") 
 
 Boyhood 90 
 
 Youth 102 
 
 To Young Men 104 
 
 True Manliness 114 
 
 Self-Study— Know Thyself 116 
 
 The Heart 120 
 
 Praise 129 
 
 Flattery 131 
 
 Falsehood 133 
 
 Deception 134 
 
 Detraction 135 
 
 Slander 137 
 
 Fretting and Grumbling 138 
 
 Peevishness 140 
 
 Churlishness 141 
 
 Controversies 142 
 
 ^Quarrels 143 
 
 Insults 144 
 
 Indignation 145 
 
 -Anger 145 
 
 Kesentment a 148 
 
 Suspicion 148 
 
 Jealousy 148 
 
 Envy 151 
 
 Harshness 152 
 
 Hatred 153 
 
 Reprehension and Reproof 154 
 
 Injury 155 
 
 Evil 156 
 
 Bad Temper 157 
 
 Meddling 159 
 
 Crossip 159 
 
 Censure 160 
 
 Fault Finding 161 
 
 Fear 165 
 
 Prejudice 165 
 
 Error 166 
 
 Washington in the wrong 167 
 
 Egotism 168 
 
 Vanity 169 
 
 Pride 170 
 
 Poverty's Answer to Pride 175 
 
 Poverty 176 
 
 Pleasure 179 
 
 Page 
 
 Amusements 183 
 
 Theatres 184 
 
 Yice 185 
 
 The Alchemy of Yice 187 
 
 Guilt 188 
 
 Luxury 189 
 
 Crime 190 
 
 Wickedness 191 
 
 Revenge 191 
 
 Murder 193 
 
 Duelling.... 193 
 
 Passion '. , 197 
 
 The Passions 197 
 
 Gambling 200 
 
 Fortune Telling 201 
 
 Dandies and Fops 202 
 
 Beauty 204 
 
 Love 208 
 
 Courtship 212 
 
 Flirting 218 
 
 Advantages of Wedlock 221 
 
 Selecting a Wife 225 
 
 A Hint to Young Ladies 22S 
 
 Marriage 229 
 
 After Marriage ...238 
 
 The Marriage Relation 242 
 
 Influence of Marriage 247 
 
 Young Women and Marriage 259 
 
 Young Men and Marriage 263 
 
 Marriage of First Cousins 267 
 
 At What Age to Marry 268 
 
 Love, Marriage and Divorce 272 
 
 Whom do Great Men Marry ? 278 
 
 A Hint to Stern Parents 279 
 
 Affection 281 
 
 How to Avoid a Bad Husband 286 
 
 Bachelors 289 
 
 Fashion..... 293 
 
 Dress 300 
 
 Dress at Church 310 
 
 Wearing Mourning 311 
 
 About Jewelry 313 
 
 Extravagance 315 
 
 Prodigality 320 
 
 Idleness 321 
 
 Indolence 328 
 
 Leisure , 330 
 
 III 
 
IV 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Ignorance 332 
 
 Timidity and Irresolution 337 
 
 Discontent 339 
 
 Difficulties and Discouragements 343 
 
 Disappointment 353 
 
 Change 355 
 
 Social Changes 358 
 
 Misfortune 359 
 
 Adversity 368 
 
 Days of Darkness 373 
 
 Affliction 375 
 
 Suffering 378 
 
 Sorrow 3S0 
 
 Sorrow for the Dead 384 
 
 Tears 387 
 
 Grief 3SS 
 
 Melancholy 389 
 
 Despair ...390 
 
 Temptation 394 
 
 Debt 398 
 
 Failure 413 
 
 Reverses in New York 41S 
 
 A Sermon to Young Men 419 
 
 Society 422 
 
 Associations 430 
 
 Neighbors 436 
 
 Friends 438 
 
 Friendship 452 
 
 Human Nature 461 
 
 The Power of Sulkiness 474 
 
 Hints on Talking 47S 
 
 Conversation ....487 
 
 Hearers 504 
 
 Thought 506 
 
 Memory 517 
 
 The Mind 520 
 
 Genius, Talent and Tact 528 
 
 The Tongue 534 
 
 Speech 536 
 
 Words 53S 
 
 Simplicity 540 
 
 Sarcasm 542 
 
 Jests 543 
 
 Loquacity 546 
 
 Brevity 547 
 
 Silence 550 
 
 Solitude 556 
 
 A Few Hints to Writers 559 
 
 Page 
 
 Writing for Newspapers 567 
 
 The Art of Letter Writing 570 
 
 Doing Good 573 
 
 Duty 577 
 
 Goodness 580 
 
 Good Nature 583 
 
 Truth , 588 
 
 Conscience 593 
 
 Character 596 
 
 Purity of Character 603 
 
 Example 605 
 
 Influence 609 
 
 Actions 611 
 
 Order 616 
 
 Energy 618 
 
 Perseverance 623 
 
 Patience 629 
 
 Prudence 634 
 
 Diligence 635 
 
 Decision 637 
 
 Judgment 640 
 
 Accuracy 644 
 
 Principle and Eight 647 
 
 Integrity 649 
 
 Firmness 652 
 
 Self Reliance 653 
 
 Force of Character 658 
 
 Honor 664 
 
 Honesty 666 
 
 Reputation 671 
 
 Habit 672 
 
 Purpose 679 
 
 Will 682 
 
 Courage 68S 
 
 Ambition 691 
 
 Employment 695 
 
 Occupation 696 
 
 Industry 702 
 
 Labor 706 
 
 Opportunity 712 
 
 Spare Moments 716 
 
 Economy 721 
 
 Little Things 729 
 
 Beginning Right 739 
 
 Poor Boys and Great Eminence 747 
 
 The First Thousand Dollars 755- 
 
 Success 756 
 
 Maxims of Eminent Men 763 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 To anticipate is pleasant ; but in order to enjoy, we 
 must begin now ; must find as we pass along, all the 
 flowery places, the happy thoughts, the sunny scenes we 
 may, for these constitute the poetry of common life, 
 these fill the rill of happiness that murmers along the 
 monotonous plain of every-day existence. To enjoy all 
 these ; and to anticipate, if we may, still higher and 
 purer joys, is the creed and the practice of the happiest. 
 
 There are a thousand things in this wide world to af- 
 flict and sadden, but, oh! how many that are beautiful 
 and good! The world teems with beauty — with objects 
 that gladden the eye and warm the heart. We might be 
 happy if we would. There are ills that we cannot es- 
 cape — the approach of disease and death; misfortune; 
 the sundering of early ties, and the canker worm of 
 grief; but a vast majority of evils that beset us might 
 be avoided. The curse of intemperance, interwoven as 
 it is with all the ligaments of society, is one which never 
 strikes us but to destroy. There is not one bright page 
 upon the record of its progress ; nothing to shield it 
 from the heartiest execration of the human race. Do 
 away with all this ; let wars come to an end ; and let 
 friendship, love, truth, charity and kindness, mark the 
 intercourse between man and man. We are too selfish, 
 as if the world was made for us alone. How much hap- 
 pier would we be were we to labor more earnestly to 
 promote each other's good ! God has blessed us with a 
 home that is not all dark. There is sunshine everywhere 
 — in the sky, upon the earth — there would be in most 
 hearts if we would look around us. The storms die away, 
 
6 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 and a bright sun shines out. God reigns in heaven. 
 Murmur not at a Being so bountiful, and we can live 
 happier than we do. The discipline of our life is por- 
 tioned out by no unloving hand. It is just what we need, 
 although we may not always realize it. It is designed to 
 make us strong, and wise, and humble. Bitter, indeed, 
 are some of the draughts we drink, but most tonics are 
 bitter, and they do us good, if we do not relish them. 
 The hidden trials are often the most difficult to bear. 
 How the soul starts back with a fearful shudder from even 
 the memory of them. In heaven this agony of remem- 
 brance will be over. No sorrow, no sad remembrance of 
 sorrow, can enter there. Great calamities teach us many 
 beautiful lessons, and reveal to us much we should never 
 have seen from the common level of life. A flood, a 
 famine, a conflagration, or some great desolation, shows 
 us how much real goodness there is under the surface oi 
 e^ery-day life ; how many generous feelings and kindly 
 sympathies, and points of union and practical fellowship, 
 lie below the differences of political opinion and religious 
 faith, and the prejudices and antagonisms of party and 
 sect show us that beneath all these the noblest elements 
 of our human nature still live, and wait only the impulse 
 of occasion to spring into life and action, and to discov- 
 er to us how much more there is in man to honor and 
 love, than the ordinary aspects of life led us to suppose. 
 The world, after all, is better, in many things, than we 
 take it to be. The Italians have a proverb, " He that 
 does not amuse himself will soon die." Liberally inter- 
 preted, contrast and change of thought and scene are 
 necessary. To extract' rational enjoyment and novelty 
 from life, is the happiest of all arts ; to impart them to others, 
 the best of all endowments. The tangible passes from 
 hand to hand, the intangible from mind to mind, and from 
 heart to heart. The eye speculates and beholds, the soul 
 appreciates and adores ; and continually there are two 
 lessons, the ardent rush of things and their quiescent re- 
 pose, the diurnal sun, the nocturnal stars, that our days 
 may be illuminated by cheerfulness, and our evenings 
 hallowed with the light of peace. 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 7 
 
 There was a beautiful idea expressed by a Christian 
 lady on her deathbed, in reply to a remark of her brother 
 who was taking leave of her to return to his distant res- 
 idence, that he should probaly never meet her in the 
 land of the living. "Brother, I trust we shall meet in 
 the land of the living. We are now in the land of the 
 dying." 
 
 Life is not entirely made up of great evils or heavy 
 trials, but the perpetual recurrance of petty evils is the 
 ordinary and appointed exercise of the Christian graces. 
 To bear with the feelings of those about us — with their 
 infirmities, their bad judgment, their ill-breeding, their 
 perverse tempers — to endure neglect when we feel we 
 deserved attention, and ingratitude where we expected 
 thanks — to bear with the company of disagreeable peo- 
 ple whom Providence has placed in our way, and whom 
 He has provided or purposed for the trial of our virtue — 
 these are the best exercises of patience and self-denial, 
 and the better because not chosen by ourselves. To 
 bear with vexation in business, with disappointment in 
 our expectations, with interruptions in our retirement, 
 with folly, intrusion, disturbances — in short, with what- 
 ever opposes our will, or contradicts our humor — this 
 habitual acquiescence appears to be more of the essence 
 of self-denial than any little rigors or afflictions of our 
 own imposing. These constant, inevitable, but inferior 
 evils, properly improved, furnish a good moral discipline, 
 and might, in the days of ignorance, have superceded 
 pilgrimage and penance. Life bears us on like the stream 
 of a mighty river. Our boat at first glides down the 
 narrow channel, through the playful murmerings of the 
 little brook and the windings of its grassy borders. The 
 trees shed their blossoms over our young heads; the 
 flowers seem to offer themselves to our young hands ; we 
 are happy in hope, and grasp eagerly at the beauties 
 around us, but the stream hurries on, and still our hands 
 are empty. Our course in youth and manhood is along 
 a deeper and wider flood, among objects more striking 
 and magnificent. We are animated at the moving pic- 
 tures and enjoyment and industry all around us ; we are 
 
8 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 excited at some short-lived disappointment. The stream 
 bears us on, and our joys and griefs are alike behind us. 
 We may be shipwrecked, but we cannot be delayed. 
 Whether rough or smooth, the river hastens on until the 
 roar of the ocean is in our ears and the tossing of the 
 waves is beneath our feet, and the floods are lifted up 
 around us, and we take leave of earth and its inhabitants, 
 until of our future voyage there is no witness save the 
 Infinite and Eternal. 
 
 We come into the world to spend the careless, fleeting 
 moments of childhood ; to drink in the elements of being ; 
 to learn the rudiments of life. As the mother dresses 
 her laughing child in a loose, homely garment, fitted to 
 its thoughtless sports and playful business, so God has 
 clothed us all in frail, perishable bodies, fitted for the 
 childish business of mortal life. We are not always to 
 be pressed down in the chafing bands of childhood — we 
 cannot always wear the homely garments of mortality. 
 Earth has many bright attractions, it has a thousand pre- 
 cious blessings, and yields us all, perhaps, that our pres- 
 ent capacities can appreciate. But earth is not our home. 
 It has not given us a sphere in which we could find con- 
 summate satisfaction, a sphere in which perfect happiness 
 and holiness and wisdom could be found, nor a sphere 
 in which we would choose to "live always." We are 
 only sent to bud and blossom here, and then be trans- 
 planted in some friendlier climate, some purer region, 
 some holier atmosphere. We cannot go away until this 
 body, this infant body is put off. It cannot be taken with 
 us — we shall not want it, we shall not need it in our final 
 home. The butterfly would be pained to wear its parent 
 covering. The eagle could not follow the sun in its 
 course, if its narrow shell were not exchanged for wings. 
 Immortal spirits would be pained and circumscribed in 
 their beatific sphere, if hampered down by the swathing 
 of immortality. 
 
 The present life is sleeping and waking ; it is " good 
 night," on going to bed, and "good morning" on getting 
 up; it is to wonder what the day will bring; it is sun- 
 shine and gloominess ; it is rain on the window, as one 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 sits by the fire ; it is to walk in the garden and see the 
 flowers open, and hear the birds sing ; it is to have the 
 post-man bring letters ; it is to have news from east, west, 
 north and south ; it is to read old books and new books ; 
 it is to see pictures and hear music ; it is to pray with a 
 family morning and evening ; it is to sit in the twilight 
 and meditate ; it is to be well, and sometimes to be ill ; 
 it is to have business to do, and to do it ; it is to have 
 breakfast and dinner and tea ; it is to belong to a town 
 and have neighbors, and to be one of a circle of acquain- 
 tances ; it is to have friends to love one ; it is to have a 
 sight of dear old faces ; and with some men, to be kissed 
 daily by some loving lips for fifty years ; and it is to know 
 themselves thought of many times a day, in many places, 
 by children and grand-children, and many friends. 
 
 The laugh of mirth which vibrates through the heart ; 
 the tears which freshen the dry wastes within ; the music 
 which brings childhood back ; the prayer that calls the 
 future near ; the doubt which makes us meditate ; the 
 death which startles us with mystery ; the hardships that 
 force us to struggle ; the anxiety that ends in trust — 
 these are the true nourishments of our natural being. 
 
 Life is no speculative adventure with those who feel 
 its value and duties. It has a deeper purpose, and its 
 path becomes distinct and easy in proportion as it is ear- 
 nestly and faithfully pursued. The rudest or the most 
 refined pursuit, if adapted to the wants and capacities of 
 the pursuer, has a truth, a beauty, and a satisfaction. All 
 ships on the ocean are not steamers or packets, but all 
 freight bearers, fitted to their tasks ; and the smallest 
 shallop nobly fulfils its mission, while it pushes on towards 
 its destined port, nor shifts its course because ships career 
 to other points of the compass. Let man ride himself 
 on the ocean of Time. Let him learn by nature whether 
 he is a shallop or a ship, a coaster or an ocean steamer ; 
 and then, freighting himself according to his capacity 
 and the market he should seek, fling his sail to the breeze, 
 riding with wind and tide, if they go his course, but 
 beating resolutely against them if they cross his path. 
 Have a well chosen and defined purpose, and pursue it 
 
10 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 faithfully, trusting in God, and all will be done well 
 Life, without some necessity for exertion, must ever lack 
 real interest. That state is capable of the greatest en- 
 joyment where necessity urges, but not painfully ; where 
 effort is required, but as much as possible without anxiety; 
 where the spring and summer of life are preparatory to 
 the harvest of autumn and the repose of winter. Then 
 is every season sweet, and in a well spent life, the last 
 the best — the season of calm enjoyment the richest in 
 recollections, the brightest in hope. Good training and 
 a fair start constitute a more desirable patrimony than 
 wealth; and those parents who study their children's 
 welfare rather than the gratification of their own avarice 
 or vanity, would do well to think of this. Is it better 
 to run a successful race, or to begin and end at the goal ? 
 Life has an ultimate purpose. We are not appointed to 
 pass through this life, barely that we may live. We are 
 not impelled, both by disposition and necessity, to buy 
 and sell, barely that we may get it. There is an end in 
 business beyond supply. There is an object in the ac- 
 quisition of wealth beyond success. There is a fina* 
 cause of human traffic ; and that is Virtue ! 
 
 We have been watching with intense interest, a man's 
 journey up the roof of yonder building. It may be some 
 sixty feet to the top, and his only foothold and depend- 
 ence is a frail ladder, that shakes with his every step. It 
 is a fearful thing to hang thus suspended — one round 
 loosened, his hold is lost, and death is certain. We are 
 all going up the steep ladder of life, and we are not so 
 sure as he that the round before us is not loose. Let us 
 take heed — like him, be slow and sure ; like him feel 
 that we hang midway between earth and the grave ; like 
 him hold closely on to the sides, God's providences, and 
 as he at last mounts to the top, there to rest from his la- 
 bors, so shall we attain to Heaven, not like him for a 
 transient hour, but a whole and delightful eternity. 
 
 We have often been impressed by the deep significance 
 of the phrase which Dickens has given as a title to one 
 of his Christmas stories, " The Battle of Life." It is full 
 of solemn meanings. All our hours, from the cradle to 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 11 
 
 the grave, are but a series of antagonisms. Hunger, fa- 
 tigue, sickness, temptation, sin, remorse, sorrow — these 
 are the strong powers with which we must wage contin- 
 ual war. Foes beset us from without and from within, 
 and make life one long and earnest battle. But there are 
 victories to be won on the field, more glorious than those 
 which crimsoned Marathon and Waterloo. Evil habits 
 may be subdued — fiery passions brought under the con- 
 trol of principle — temptations resisted — self-denial cheer- 
 fully sustained, and life itself consecrated to high and 
 holy purposes. To triumph over the infirmities of a 
 perverted nature, and render life, once deformed by pas- 
 sion and stained by sin, beautiful with love made mani- 
 fest in deeds of beneficence, is worthier our ambition than 
 all the blood-wrought heroisms that ever linked a name 
 to a world's remembrance. Every day witnesseth tri- 
 umphs such as these — yet fame proclaims them not. 
 What matters it ? In the serene depths of these all con- 
 quering spirits, God's peace abides, and harmonies are 
 heard, such as the angels make, when they welcome the 
 victorious soul from the conflicts of this, to the raptures 
 of the heavenly world. If life be a battle, how mad 
 must he be who fails to arm himself for the contest ! If 
 life be a storm, how infatuated is he who sleeps while his 
 bark is driven amid unknown waters ! If life be a pil- 
 grimage, how unwise is he who strays from the right 
 road, nor seeks to return till the twilight shadows gather 
 round his pathway. There is an energy of moral suasion 
 in a good man's life, passing the highest efforts of the ora- 
 tor's genius. The seen but silent beauty of holiness 
 speaks more eloquently of God and duty than the tongues 
 of men and angels. Let parents remember this. The 
 best inheritance a parent can bequeath to a child is a 
 virtuous example, a legacy of hallowed remembrances 
 and associations. The beauty of holiness beaming through 
 the life of a loved relative or friend, is more effectual 
 to strengthen such as do stand in virtue's ways, and raise 
 up those that are bowed down, than precept, command, 
 entreaty or warning. Christianity itself, I believe, owes 
 by far the greater part of its moral power, not to the 
 
12 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 precepts or parables of Christ, but to His own character. 
 The beauty of that holiness which is enshrined in the 
 four brief biographies of the man of Nazareth, has done 
 more, and will do more, to regenerate the world and 
 bring in everlasting righteousness, than all the other 
 agencies put together. It has done more to spread His 
 religion in the world than all that has ever been preached 
 or written on the evidences of Christianity. The beauty 
 of a holy life constitutes the most eloquent and effective 
 persuasive to religion which one human being can address 
 to another. We have many ways of doing good to our 
 fellow creatures, but none so efficacious as leading a vir- 
 tuous, upright, and well-ordered life. None liveth to 
 himself God has written upon the flower that sweetens 
 the air, upon the breeze that rocks it on its stem, upon 
 the rainbow that refreshes the smallest sprig of moss that 
 rears its head in the desert, upon the ocean that rocks 
 every swimmer in its chambers, upon every pencilled 
 shell that sleeps in the caverns of the deep, as well as 
 upon the mighty sun that warms and cheers the millions 
 of creatures that live in his light — upon all he has writ- 
 ten, u None of us liveth to himself" 
 
 Men seldom think of the great event of death until 
 the shadows fall across their own path, hiding forever 
 from their eyes the traces of loved ones whose living 
 smiles were the sunlight of their existence. Death is the 
 great antagonist of life, and the cold thought of the tomb 
 is the skeleton of all feasts. We do not want to go 
 through the dark valley, although its passage may lead 
 to paradise ; and with Charles Lamb, we do not want to 
 lie down in the muddy grave, even with kings and prin 
 ces for our bed fellows. But the fiat of nature is inex- 
 orable, there is no appeal from the great law which dooms 
 us to dust. We flourish and we fade as the leaves of the 
 forest ; and the flowers that bloom and wither in a day 
 have not a frailer hope upon life than the mightiest mon- 
 arch that ever shook the earth with his footsteps. Gen- 
 erations of men appear and vanish as the grass, and the 
 countless multitude which fills the world to-day, will to- 
 morrow disappear as the footsteps on the shore. This is 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 13- 
 
 life. If we die to-day, the sun will shine as brightly and 
 the birds sing as sweetly to-morrow. Business will not 
 be suspended a moment, and the great mass will not be- 
 stow a thought upon our memories. Is he dead? will be 
 the solemn inquiry of a few as they pass to their work. 
 But no one will miss us except our immediate connexions, 
 and in a short time they will forget us, and laugh as mer- 
 rily as when we sat beside them. Thus shall we all now 
 active in life pass away. Our children crowd close be- 
 hind us, and they will soon be gone. In a few years not 
 a living being can say, "I remember him! We lived in 
 another age, and have no business with those who slum- 
 ber in the tomb/' This is life, how rapidly it passes! 
 
 " To-day man's dressed in gold and silver bright, 
 Wrapped in a shroud before to-morrow night ; 
 
 To-day he's nice, and scorns to feed on crumbs, 
 To-morrow he's himself a dish for worms." 
 
 It is the great art and philosophy of life, to make the 
 best of the present, whether it be good or bad ; and to 
 bear the one with resignation and patience, and to enjoy 
 the other with thankfulness and moderation. Are we 
 brought into the world, and allowed to occupy a place 
 in it, only that we may pursue trifles ! that we may bru- 
 tishly gratify our appetites and passions ! that we may 
 leave the world at last, perhaps at the expiration of three 
 score years and ten, without having derived any advan- 
 tage from being in it, or conferring a single benefit upon 
 it ! The Bible describes the years of man to be three 
 score years and ten, or four score years. Now, life is 
 very uncertain, and we may not live a single day longer ; 
 but if we divide the four score years of an old man's life 
 into twelve parts, like the dial of the clock, it will allow 
 almost seven years for every figure. When a boy is 
 seven years old then it is one o'clock of his life ; when 
 he arrives at fourteen years it will be two o'clock ; when 
 at twenty-one years it will be three o'clock, should it 
 please God thus to spare his life. In this manner we 
 may always know the time of our life, and looking at 
 the clock may remind us of it. At what hour you shall 
 die, is only known to Him to whom all things are 
 known. I know not what o'clock it may be with the 
 
"14 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 reader, but I know very well what time it is with myself; 
 and that if I mean to do anything in this world which 
 hitherto I have neglected, it is high time to set about it. 
 Look about you, I earnestly entreat you, and now and 
 then ask yourself, reader, what o'clock it is with you. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Barnes in his sermon on "Life at Three 
 Score," illustrates the magnitude of eternal things as he 
 approached the end of life, compared with those which 
 ordinarily occupy the attention of mankind, by the fol- 
 lowing beautiful figure : — The earth as it moves in its 
 orbit from year to year, maintains its distance of ninety- 
 five millions of miles from the sun ; and the sun at its 
 rising or its setting, seems at all times to be of the same 
 magnitude — to human view an object always small as 
 compared with our world. But suppose the earth should 
 leave its orbit and make its way in a direct line towards 
 the sun, how soon would the sun seem to enlarge its di- 
 mensions ? How vast and bright it would become ! How 
 soon would it fill the whole field of vision, and all the 
 earth dwindle to nothing ! So human life now appears 
 to me. In earlier years, eternity appeared distant and 
 small in importance. But at the period of life which I 
 have now reached, it seems to me as if the earth had left 
 the orbit of its annual movements, and was making a 
 rapid and direct flight to the sun. The objects of eterni- 
 ty towards which I am moving rapidly, enlarge them- 
 selves. They have become overpoweringly bright and 
 grand. They fill whole fields of vision, and the earth, 
 which with all is the common object of human ambition 
 and pursuit, is vanishing away. If it is well for a man 
 to live at all, he should endeavor to avoid all those influ- 
 ences which detract from the beauty and harmony of hu- 
 man existence. In other words he should "make the 
 most of life," and not allow himself to be distracted, an- 
 noyed, or confounded by anything. He should fully 
 possess himself, being at peace with his own soul, and 
 having great good will for all mankind. Life, then, will 
 have a beautiful significance to him ; its current will be 
 deep and flow gently on — in all the beauties of the world 
 reflected. Of human life as a comprehensive whole, we 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 15 
 
 only see one side on this hitherward shore. Here we 
 see but the beginning of it. The end — the other side — 
 is to be taken in by faith. The Apostles saw it. Hin- 
 drances, pressures, troubles, he saw, were working in us 
 in some mysterious manner, so that they should evolve 
 for us u a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." 
 Do the best you can where you are ; when that is ex- 
 hausted God will open a door for you, and a voice will 
 call, "Come up hither into a brighter sphere." That is 
 what is called "trusting in Providence!". 
 
 If you would live to purpose, and live long, live indus- 
 triously, temperately, regularly, all the while maintaining 
 " a conscience void of offence toward God and toward 
 man." Live long and happy. However mean your life 
 is, meet it and live it ; do not shun it and call it hard 
 names. It is not so bad as you are. When Anaxagoras 
 was told of the death of his son, he only said, I knew he 
 was mortal. So we, in all casualties of life, should say, I 
 knew my riches were uncertain, that my friend was but 
 a man. Such considerations would soon pacify us, be- 
 cause all our troubles proceed from their being unexpected. 
 Life is to the unhappy as a prison, from whose gloom they 
 cannot escape ; while to the happy, it resembles a vast 
 palace filled with all that can delight. The prison may 
 be rendered endurable by resignation; but the palace 
 loses some of its bright coloring and gilding every day, 
 until nought but faded remnants of its pristine beauty 
 remain. For my part I am not so much troubled about 
 my future state, as about my present character in the 
 sight of a holy and heart-searching God. To live a holy, 
 self-denying life, I conceive to be of the first importance. 
 It is by the daily lives of Christians that Christ is either 
 honored or dishonored. Take care to live well, no less 
 than to live long ; the former is in a man's power, the 
 latter may not be. To be always afraid of losing life, is, 
 indeed, scarcely to enjoy a life that can deserve the care 
 of preservation ; and since life itself is uncertain, nothing 
 which has life for a basis, can have much stability. How 
 unreasonable is it to begin to live when we can live no 
 
16 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 longer ! That man does not live as he should who doea 
 not reckon every day as his last. 
 
 Some are exceeding diligent in acquiring a vast com- 
 pass of learning ; some in aspiring to honors and prefer- 
 ments ; some in heaping up riches ; others intent upon 
 pleasures and diversions ; hunting, or play, or vain con- 
 trivances to pass away their time ; others are taken up in 
 useless speculations; others set up for men of business, 
 and spend all their days in hurry and noise ; but amidst 
 this variety the happy always apply themselves to the 
 wisdom which should direct their lives. Life is often a 
 continual struggle after that which we cannot take with 
 us, riches ; which seem given to us as the nurse gives the 
 child a pretty ornament or shell from the mantel-piece to 
 keep it quiet, until it falls asleep, when it drops from its 
 helpless hands, and is replaced, to please other babies in 
 their turn. Every one should consider that the way to 
 usefulness, to honor, and heaven, is open before him, and also 
 the way to shame, dishonor and hell, and a view of the con- 
 sequences should determine which course he will pursue. 
 
 Human life is often likened to a voyage. It is a voy- 
 age to eternity, attended with great danger, as well as 
 much hardship and toil. The sea we have to navigate, 
 viewed in prospect, looks smooth and inviting ; but be- 
 neath, it conceals shoals, quicksands, and rocks ; and 
 great multitudes in attempting to reach the distant shores 
 are shipwrecked and lost. No man knows his destiny. 
 We pass our lives in regretting the past, complaining of 
 the present, and indulging false hopes of the future. 
 Every anniversary of a birth-day is the dispelling of a 
 dream. We aspire and aspire and then give in. Life in 
 this particular is like a coffin, which widens up to a cer- 
 tain point, and then tapers off again. Happy the man 
 who sees a God employed in all the good and ill that 
 chequer life. 
 
 We all live two lives — a life of action and a life of af- 
 terthought. The man who lives morally, usefully, intel- 
 lectually — who is good, does good, and turns all his men- 
 tal and moral faculties to good account, may be said to 
 live two self-satisfactory lives in one. His Life of Acts, 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 17 
 
 made up of the performance of his obligations to God, 
 his neighbor and himself, must in the main be happy. 
 His Life of Afterthought, in which memory summons his 
 Life of Action to the bar of Conscience — where it is 
 weighed in the balance of Justice, and not found want- 
 ing — cannot be otherwise than consolatory. But as the 
 good we have done grows more and more comforting to 
 us as we reflect upon it, so does the evil we have com- 
 mitted grow in horror as it glares upon us from the vistas 
 of memory. We have our choice. We can be twice 
 blessed or twice cursed. Blessed in doing and in think- 
 ing of what we have done, or cursed alike in the act and 
 the afterthought. We can people the present with pur- 
 suing fiends or ministering angels, who will come to us 
 in the future from what will then be the past, to torment 
 or bless us. Such a present receives a new glory in 
 changing to the past. Let the young and thoughtless 
 understand, at the very outset of their active career, 
 that the evil to-day cannot elude the scrutinizing to- 
 morrow. We do not refer to the ultimate scrutiny of 
 our deeds ; but to that which precedes it and forewarns 
 us what its result may be. Well does Macbeth say 
 
 " We still have judgment here." 
 
 Remembrance goes like a resurrectionist to the graves of 
 our past errors and crimes, and shows us their skeletons. 
 The conventional robes in which we dressed them to 
 make them seemly are gone — the tinsel of subterfuge 
 and sophistry with which we bedecked their loathsome- 
 ness has fallen away — self-deception is no longer possible, 
 and we shrink from the foul offspring of our misguided 
 souls, but cannot, dare not repudiate them. If the young 
 doubt the vraisemblance of this picture, let them ask the 
 old, and they will learn that its drawing is correct and 
 its tints true. Ah, if the man of the world were only 
 as careful to consult his conscience on points of moral 
 right, as to consult his lawyer on points of law, how 
 much misery would he not escape both in his life of ac- 
 tion and his life of afterthought. 
 
 This life is the spring-time of eternity — the time to 
 sow the seeds of woe or the seeds of bliss. Our life is 
 
 2 
 
18 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 one long lesson. To come but once into the world, and 
 trifle away the right use of it, making that a burden 
 which was given for a blessing, is strange infatuation. 
 Study-to promote the happiness of mankind ; it is the 
 true end of your creation. 
 
 There is nothing that so much engages our affections 
 to this world as the want of proper consideration about 
 how soon we are to leave it. Strange, murmers the dy- 
 ing invalid, looking out from his window upon the world — 
 strange ! how the beauty and mystery of all nature are 
 heightened by the near prospect of that coming darkness 
 which will sweep them all away ! The very limitation 
 of the term of enjoyment has much to do with the ex- 
 quisiteness of life's pleasures. It is the perishing blos- 
 som that is so pre-eminently beautiful! 
 
 Life is an opiate — it excites us at first, and then leaves 
 as sleepy, weary, and disgusted; for most men employ 
 their first years so as to make their last miserable. Life 
 is the jailor of the soul in this filthy prison, and its only 
 deliverer is death ; what we call life is a journey to death, 
 and what we call death is a passport to life. Life is an 
 isthmus between two great eternities. Life, after all, is 
 but a bundle of hints, each suggesting actual and posi- 
 tive developement, but rarely reaching it. When all is 
 done, human life is, at the greatest and best, but like a 
 fro ward child, that must be played with and humored a 
 little to keep it quiet till it falls asleep — and then the 
 care is over. The vanity of human life is like a river, 
 constantly passing away, and yet constantly coming on. 
 If one only pauses, now and then, in life's "forced march," 
 to count the numbers who have wearied by the way, of 
 those who brushed with him the morning dews, he feels 
 a sort of terror lest he finish his journey a stranger and 
 alone. We spend much of life in making blunders, and 
 more of it in correcting them. The world's experience 
 preaches in vain, every man thinking himself an excep- 
 tion to all general rules. It is when the work is finished 
 that we feel how unfinished is the workmanship. 
 
 Most people complain bitterly of the troubles of life, 
 yet very often greatly increase life's real troubles by the 
 
INTRODUCTORY. . 19 
 
 anticipations of imaginary ones. Almost every man 
 wastes part of his life in attempts to display qualities 
 which he does not possess, and to gain applause which 
 he cannot keep. We often speak of being " settled in 
 life." We might as well speak of anchoring in the midst 
 of the Atlantic Ocean. Like the leaf, life has its fading. 
 We speak and think of it with sadness, just as we think 
 of the Autumn season. But there should be no sadness 
 at the fading of a life that has done well its work. If we 
 rejoice at the advent of a new life, if we welcome the 
 coming of a new pilgrim to the uncertainties of this 
 world's way, why should there be so much gloom when 
 all these uncertainties are passed, and. life at its waning 
 wears the glory of a competent task ? Beautiful as is 
 childhood in its freshness and innocence, its beauty is that 
 of untried life. It is the beauty of promise, of Spring, 
 of the bud. A holier and rarer beauty is the beauty 
 which the waning life of faith and duty wears. It is the 
 beauty of a thing completed; and as men come together 
 to congratulate each other when some great work has 
 been achieved, and see in its concluding nothing but 
 gladness, so ought we to feel when the setting sun flings 
 back its beams upon a life that has answered well life's 
 purpose. When the bud drops blighted, and the mildew 
 blasts the early grain, and there goes all hope of the har- 
 vest, one may well be sad ; but when the ripened year 
 sinks amid its garniture of Autumn flowers and leaves, 
 why should we regret or murmur ? And so a life that is 
 ready and waiting for the "well done" of God, whose 
 latest virtues and charities are the noblest, should be given 
 back to God in uncomplaining reverence, we rejoicing 
 that the earth is capable of so much goodness, and si 
 permitted such virtue. Like flakes of snow that fall un- 
 perceived upon the earth, the seemingly unimportant 
 events of life succeed one another. Thus imperceptibly 
 and swiftly life passes away. Life's moments are ever 
 fleeting ; the generations of men come and pass away 
 like the leaves of the forest; as the year blooms and 
 fades, so does human life. Things past, present, and to 
 come, are strangely uniform, and so analagous that forty 
 
20 . INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 years of human life may serve as a sample of ten thou- 
 sand. The great struggles in life are limited to momenta ; 
 in the drooping of the head upon the bosom — in the pres- 
 sure of the hand upon the brow. There are three modes 
 of bearing the ills of life — by indifference, which is the 
 most common ; by philosophy, which is the most osten- 
 tatious ; and by religion, which is the most effectual ; for 
 it is religion alone that can teach us to bear them with 
 resignation. Middle age and the decline of life which 
 lesson our sense of enjoyment, increase our love of life ; 
 and we find, as we journey on, the longer we live the 
 more tenaciously we cling to life, which is only to be de- 
 sired by those to whom death would be no gain. Meas- 
 ure not life by the hopes and enjoyments of this world, 
 but the preparation made for another; rather looking 
 forward to what you shall be than backward to what you 
 have been. Human life is one great Saturday, in which 
 the world should get ready for Sunday, closing up ac- 
 counts with time, and putting things in order for a holi- 
 day. 
 
 This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth 
 The tender leaves of hope ; to-morrow blossoms, 
 And bears his blushing honors thick upon him ; 
 The third day comes a frost, a killing frost. — Shak. 
 
MAN AND WOMAN, 
 
 A prudent woman is in the same class of honor with a 
 wise man. The characteristic qualities of woman — when 
 true to the type of her being — her delicacy, modesty, 
 reserve, and chastity of heart and feeling, word and ac- 
 tion — her sweetness, gentleness, patience, sympathy, ten- 
 derness, dependence, devotion; her sensibility to beauty 
 and grace, order, fitness, and propriety in speech, dress, 
 behavior, everything; her intellectual faculties — more 
 receptive than productive — resting more on feeling than 
 on thought — making her more susceptible of culture and 
 refinement than apt for grasping the abstruse and rugged 
 in science and practical life ; all these are her charms for 
 man, through which man gets unspeakable good to his 
 own nature; while man's harder texture in body and 
 mind — his strength, courage, self-reliance, his grasp, force 
 and productive power in the world of thought and ac- 
 tion, draw woman to him. Thus each finds in the other 
 what each one needs. The womanly woman feels her- 
 self strong and brave when she leans on man, and man's 
 manly courage grows stouter, and at the same time the 
 rugged hardness of his nature is softened by tender rev- 
 erence, as with one arm he supports and with the other 
 protects the gentle one clinging to his side. In every- 
 thing, in short, in which they are made different, it is 
 that each may find their proper counterpart in the other. 
 They are made different in order that they may become 
 one. Out of this very difference springs the closest and 
 richest union — the union of mutual love, whereof mar- 
 riage is the outward representation. Only in this true 
 married union, and in the home of love that builds itself 
 up out of it, can the fulness and perfection of the indi- 
 
22 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 vidual life, dignity, and worth of each be found and 
 realized. 
 
 " Man is strong — woman is beautiful. Man is daring 
 in conduct — woman is diffident and unassuming. Man 
 shines abroad — woman at home. Man talks to convince 
 — woman to persuade and please. Man has a rugged 
 heart — woman a soft and tender one. Man prevents 
 misery — woman relieves it. Man has science — woman 
 taste. Man has judgment — woman sensibility. Man is 
 a being of justice — woman of mercy." What man ex- 
 pects to acquire by force of energy and the exercise of 
 his talents, woman hopes to obtain by the power of pleas- 
 ing, and her ascendency over the heart. The means are 
 different, the ends in view the same ; namely, prosperity 
 in life, and a desirable position in the world. There is 
 no period in the life of man, as long as his mental and 
 bodily powers remain unimpaired, in which he is social-, 
 ly disqualified for the race he has to run, and that con- 
 test in which he is called upon to engage. He may 
 remain a long time a silent, but watchful spectator of 
 the scene ; or he may be disabled, and thrown off his 
 balance ; but he can appear again, and by summoning 
 his dormant faculties to his aid, he may succeed in di- 
 viding the booty with his compeers, or in securing his 
 share of the world's honor and spoils. To place a wo- 
 man in early life in a career like this, is to alte'r her des- 
 tiny, to endanger her respectability, to destroy her sym- 
 pathies, and to subvert the intentions of Nature. If, by 
 the influence of her charms, or the opportunities of her 
 position, she has failed to procure a desirable elevation in 
 society — or if, by a cruel destiny, she has been deprived 
 of friends and fortune, and is urged to assert her rights, 
 and to make her own way through the world — if her 
 resolution can save her from despair, and her prin- 
 ciples ol virtue from reproach — yet she labors under 
 great disadvantages in placing herself upon the same 
 footing with men, who are hardened to the world, and 
 more accustomed to personal privations and toil. But 
 nevertheless, there have been women who, impelled by 
 high motives and a determined sense of duty, have sur 
 
MAN AND WOMAN. 23 
 
 mounted all these obstacles, and have acquired by their 
 own efforts both fortune and influence ; and young 
 America can show many such to the Old world. In 
 every situation woman has more causes of grief than 
 man, and suffers more than he. Man has his strength 
 and the exercise of his power ; he is busy, goes about, 
 occupies his attention, thinks, looks forward to the future 
 and finds consolation in it ; but woman stays at home, 
 remains face to face with her sorrow, from which nothing 
 distracts her; she descends to the very depths of the 
 abyss it has opened, measures it, and often fills it with 
 her vows and tears. To feel, to love, to suffer, to devote 
 herself, will always be the text of the life of woman. 
 She does nothing like us men. She thinks, speaks, acts 
 differently. Her tastes differ from our tastes. Her blood 
 does not follow the course of ours ; nor does she breathe 
 as we breathe. Nature has arranged that woman's res- 
 piration should be effected mainly by the four upper 
 ribs. She does not eat like us ; neither so much, nor of 
 the same dishes. Why ? Above all, for the reason that 
 she does not digest like us ; at every moment her diges- 
 tion is troubled by the excitability of her emotions. Man 
 has a distinct language, precise and luminous speech, the 
 clearness of the word. But woman, besides the word 
 of man and the song of the bird, possesses a completely 
 magical language, with which she intersperses the word 
 or the song. Woman loves,, and suffers ; she requires 
 the support of a loving hand. It has been often said 
 that it was the weakness of the infant which, by pro- 
 longing the cares of education, originally created family. 
 True, the child retains the mother ; but the man is at- 
 tached to the domestic hearth by the mother herself, by 
 his affection for the wife, and by the happiness he feels 
 in protecting her. Superior and inferior to man, humil- 
 iated by the heavy hand of nature, but at the same time 
 inspired by intuitions of a 'higher order than man can 
 ever experience, she has fascinated him, innocently 
 bewitched him for ever. And man has remained en- 
 chanted by the spell. This is what society is. Women 
 are generally better creatures than men. Perhaps they 
 
24 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 have, taken universally, weaker appetites and weaker 
 intellects, but they have much stronger affections. A 
 man with a bad heart has been sometimes saved by a 
 strong head ; but a corrupt woman is lost for ever. Most 
 of their faults women owe to us, whilst we are indebted 
 to them for most of our better qualities. 
 
 Woman's influence is the sheet anchor of society ; and 
 this influence is due, not exclusively to the fascination 
 of her charms, but chiefly to the strength, uniformity 
 and consistency of her virtues, maintained under so many 
 sacrifices, and with so much fortitude and heroism. 
 Without these endowments and qualifications, external 
 attractions are nothing ; but with them, their power is 
 irresistable. Beauty and virtue are the crowning attri- 
 butes bestowed by nature upon woman, and the bounty 
 of heaven more than compensates for the injustice of 
 man. The possession of these advantages secures to her 
 universally that degree of homage and consideration 
 which renders her independent of the effects of unequal 
 and arbitrary laws. But it is not the incense of idle 
 worship which is most acceptable to the heart of woman ; 
 it is, on the contrary, the just appreciation of her proper 
 position, merits, and character, and this demands the ob- 
 lation of no " mewling minstrelsy," the adulations of 
 
 " No whining rhymster, with his schoolboy song." 
 
 Ever true to her destiny, and estimating at their real 
 value the higher perfections of human nature, when 
 brought into contrast with what is puerile or ridiculous, 
 woman surpasses man in the quickness of her perceptions 
 and in the right direction of her sympathies. I do not 
 hesitate to say that the women give to every nation a 
 moral temperament which shows itself in all its politics. 
 A hundred times have I seen weak men show public vir- 
 tue because they had by their sides women who supported 
 them, not by advice as to particulars, but by fortifying 
 their feelings of duty, and directing their ambition. We 
 have somewhere read that Henry Ward Beecher 
 never said a truer thing than when he remarked that 
 u God made woman to be better than man." This re- 
 mark had been made substantially often enough before 
 
MAN AND WOMAN. 25 
 
 by preachers, lecturers, romancers, and poets. Like 
 many trite maxims which survive in form when their 
 meaning is almost forgotten, few who uttered, and still 
 fewer who heard it, perhaps, understood the full scope 
 and force of its allusions. How eloquently, pathetically 
 full of suggestion it is. " God made woman to be better 
 than man" — made her to be morally and physically, a 
 " thing of beauty and a joy forever." 
 
 Six years ago, says the Milwaukee Gazette, a young 
 man just entering on life, under the influence of rum, 
 committed a crime against society, was tried in this city, 
 convicted, and sent to Waupun, where he served out his 
 time behind the prison bars. Before his trial a fair girl 
 had promised to link fortunes with him, and cruel was 
 the blow to her. But she loved him. All through his 
 six years did she wait for his release. With a true 
 woman's heart, she believed him innocent — innocent, at 
 least, before God; and like the magnet, she held on her 
 steady way, her heart ever pointing to the future. Long 
 were the years to him. Slow passed the hours. Seconds 
 were minutes, minutes hours, hours days, days weeks, 
 weeks months, months years, and years were like ages. 
 Every tolling of the prison-bell struck deep upon his 
 heart, and every sunset took another thread from the 
 long skein. Nor were the hours less weary to her. Hope, 
 that blessed angel, sat by her day by day, and reposed 
 ■on' her pillow by night. Some there were who laughed 
 at her holy love, who sneered so meanly at her lover, a 
 prisoner miles away. But little it mattered to her; 
 others might laugh — she wept ; others might point to a 
 man in prison garb, toiling away from morn till night, 
 with but one star to guide him on. She saw but the 
 honest soul that might be saved, or lost, and, woman that 
 she was, nerved herself to bear their jibes and jeers. 
 Blessed words came to him in his lonely cell, words of 
 love, of kindness, and stronger grew the heart of him 
 who had truly his better angel to watch over his unbro- 
 ken fortune. Each word from her lightened the hours 
 as they slowly went by, and larger grew the day on which 
 liberty was to come. Men visited him, and with careless 
 
26 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 word or speaking eye, threw into his cell a maddening 
 thought on which his soul must feed, and tremblingly 
 shrink to the darkest corner of his living temple. Then 
 a letter from her would dash aside the dark curtains and 
 beckon him on to a spot of sunshine outside, and beyond 
 his present reach. So passed the years. Friends died 
 and he wept over them. The sin was long since atoned 
 for, and at last the little spot of sunshine crept into his 
 cell, and entering by the key-hole of his door led him 
 forth into the bright rays of liberty. He was conducted 
 to the office of the prison, a citizen's dress in place of a pris- 
 on suit given him, and led into an inner room where stood 
 she, who, years before, had promised before God to be 
 his. What a meeting ! On the evening train the two 
 arrived in this city, and were, by one of our divines, 
 joined in marriage. We were witness to the ceremony 
 and never shall forget it. Never forget the eye moisten- 
 ed with happiness, nor the throbbing of the heart that so 
 long waited and trusted. Saved, saved! May the future 
 be all the brighter for the dark cloud that has so long 
 hung over it, and true friends ever ready to lend a help- 
 ing hand. We believe in woman's love — in woman's 
 devotion the more after knowing the facts above stated. 
 God bless the true heart wherever found. 
 
 Man is the creature of interest and ambition. His 
 nature leads him forth into the struggle and bustle of 
 the world. Love is but the embellishment of his early 
 life, or a song piped in the intervals of the acts. He 
 seeks for fame, for fortune, for place in the world's thought, 
 and dominion over his fellow-men. But a woman's whole 
 life is a history of the affections. The heart is her world ; 
 it is there her ambition strives for empire ; it is there her 
 avarice seeks for hidden treasures. She sends forth her 
 sympathies on adventure ; she embarks her whole soul 
 in the traffic of affection ; and if shipwrecked, her case 
 is hopeless — for it is bankruptcy of the heart. 
 
 Woman is a very nice and a very complicated machine. 
 Her springs are infinitely delicate, and differ from those 
 of a man as the work of a repeating-watch does from 
 that of a town clock. Look at her body — how delicately 
 
MAN AND WOMAN. 27 
 
 formed! Observe her understanding, how subtle and 
 acute! But look into her heart — there is the watch- 
 work, composed of parts so minute in themselves, and so 
 wonderfully combined, that they must be seen by a mi- 
 croscopic eye to be clearly comprehended. The percep- 
 tion of woman is as quick as lightning. Her penetration 
 is intuition — I had almost said instinct. Spirit in con- 
 versation depends upon fancy, and women all over the 
 world talk better than men. 
 
 We never enter the omnibus or the steamboat without 
 expecting to be dazzled by some lustrous divinity whose 
 glance, makes golden the common air ; and we never 
 read ft* a revolution in human affairs without expecting 
 a new exhibition of magnanimity in man. Why is this, 
 except that such things are the rightful heritage of man, 
 the inevitable ornament of his manhood ? Some moralist 
 has said that no woman had a right to be plain ; which is 
 true. Her nature entitles her to be beautiful only, and 
 when it is really operative always renders her so. Never 
 yet saw any one beauty in woman which was not purely 
 womanly, and therefore, impersonal. The person who 
 reveals it, joyously feels herself to be merely the priestess 
 or minister of this sacred flame, and shrinks from all 
 personal property in it, as from sacrilege. So also, no 
 man has a right to be mean or trivial. His essential 
 manhood entitles hinrto be only manly ; and when he 
 falls short of this we may be sure that his inward ampli- 
 tude has been prejudiced by the limits of his outward 
 position. 
 
 The men who flatter women do not know them suffi- 
 ciently ; and the men who only abuse them do not know 
 them at all. No doubt Providence has willed that man 
 should be the head of the human race, even as woman 
 is its heart ; that he should be its strength, as she is its 
 solace ; that he should be its wisdom, as she is its grace; 
 that he should be its mind, its impetus, and its courage, 
 and she its sentiment, its charm, and its consolation. 
 
 The Westminster Review says: "In days not far dis- 
 tant men found their excitement, and filled up their 
 time, in violent bodily exercise, noisy merriment, and 
 
28 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 intemperance. They have now, in all but the very poor- 
 est classes, lost their inclination for these things, and for 
 the coarser pleasures generally ; they have now scarcely 
 airy tastes but those which they have in common with 
 woman, and, for the first time in the world, men and 
 women are really companions. A most beneficial change, 
 if the companionship were between equals, but being 
 between unequals, it produces what good observers have 
 noticed, though without perceiving its cause, a progres- 
 sive deterioration among men in what had hitherto been 
 considered the masculine excellences. Those who are 
 so careful that women should not become men, do not 
 see that men are becoming what they have deciden that 
 women should be — are falling into the feebleness which 
 they have so long cultivated in their companions. Those 
 who are associated in their lives tend to become assimi- 
 lated in character. In the present closeness of associa- 
 tion between the sexes, man cannot attain manliness un- 
 less woman acquire it." 
 
 It is only in America that women of all classes receive 
 that respect and consideration which they are so unques- 
 tionably entitled to by nature. This is so markedly the 
 case, that foreigners notice it at once on arriving from 
 abroad. Now, rightly viewed, and its bearings properly 
 analyzed ; this is one of the strongest tokens of civiliza- 
 tion that can be adduced, and actually amounts with us 
 to a national characteristic. In Vienna women dig cellars 
 and carry hods; in Paris they clean the streets; in Eng- 
 land they drudge in the fields at manly labor, for six- 
 pence a day; in America alone is their task confined to 
 the domestic circle, and about the sacred hearth of homes 
 they render so cheerful and happy. We are led to draw 
 these comparisons, because by each arrival from the old 
 world we are so impressed with the misery that all the 
 humble classes suffer under monarchy ; and then we turn 
 to contrast their deplorable lot with that of our own peo- 
 ple. It is the natural result of a monarchial form oi 
 government to separate society into just two divisions, 
 the high and low, the rich and poor. When monarchial 
 power prevails, we see one class high up in the air bask- 
 
MAX AND WOMAN. 2& 
 
 ing in sunshine, while the other is sunken amid the dirt 
 and filth. Republicanism is the only true balance. It 
 hangs the scales in the hands of justice, and nothing can 
 turn the beam to favor one class of humanity over 
 another. Great reforms cannot be consummated in a 
 day ; and we do not yet despair of seeing the old world 
 lighted upon republican altars. America is the Paradise 
 of women. They are more respected, honored and 
 loved, and more tenderly treated, in this country than 
 in any other on earth. In other lands, women, in many 
 instances, and in some constantly, toil in the fields like 
 beasts of burden, while their fathers, and husbands, and 
 brothers and sons sit smoking and drinking at home, or 
 in the public bar-room, thus squandering in dissipation 
 the pittance so hardly earned by the females of the fam- 
 ily. What makes those men who associate habitually 
 with women, superior to others? What makes that 
 woman who is accustomed and at ease in the society of 
 men, superior to her sex in general? Solely because 
 they are in the habit of free, graceful, continued conver- 
 sation with the other sex. Women in this way lose their 
 frivolity; their faculties awaken; their delicacies and 
 peculiarities unfold all their beauty and captivation in 
 the spirit of intellectual rivalry. And the men lose their 
 pedantic, rude, declamatory, or sullen manner. The 
 coin of the understanding and the heart is changed con- 
 tinually. Their asperities are rubbed off, their better 
 materials polished and brightened, and their richness, 
 like fine gold, is wrought into finer workmanship by the 
 finger of woman, than it ever could be by those of men. 
 The iron and steel of their character are hidden, like the 
 harness and armor of a giant, in studs and knots of gold 
 and precious stones, when they are not wanted in actual 
 warfare. The mind of woman is peculiarly constituted, 
 and exquisitely adapted for playing upon and influencing 
 the finer parts of man's nature ; and whenever the heart 
 of man is dead to influence, it is dead to almost every 
 higher and purer feeling which alone distinguishes him 
 from the beasts of the forest. As women are respected 
 by the men of the age, so may, from time to time, be 
 
60 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 traced by an unerring measure, the degree of civilization 
 to which that generation has attained. We do not mean 
 by respect, the senseless adoration — the outward adula- 
 tion, but real contempt — displayed towards woman dur- 
 ing the middle ages, but a deeper, a more lasting, a more 
 valuable kind of respect. Emerson says, " We consider 
 man the representative of intellect, and the woman as 
 the representative of affection ; but each shares the char- 
 acteristic of the other, only in the man one predominates, 
 and in the woman the other. We know woman as affec- 
 tionate, as religious, as oracular, as delighting in grace 
 and order, possessed of taste. In all ages, woman has 
 been the representative of religion. In all countries it 
 is the women who fill the temples. In every religious 
 movement the woman has had an active and powerful 
 part, not only in the most civilized, but in the most un 
 civilized countries ; not less in the Mohammedan than 
 the Greek and Roman religions. She holds man to re- 
 ligion. There is no man so reprobate, so careless of 
 religious duty, but that he delights to have his wife a 
 saint. All men feel the advantages that abound of that 
 quality in a woman. My own feeling is that in all ages 
 woman has held substantially the same influence. I think 
 that superior women are rare. I think that women feel 
 when they are in the press, as men of genius are said to 
 do among energetic workers — that they see through all 
 these efforts with finer eyes than their noisy masters. ] 
 think that all men in the presence of the best women 
 feel overlooked and judged, and sometimes sentenced. 
 They are the educators in all our society. Through their 
 sympathy and quickness they are the proper mediators 
 between those who have knowledge and those who want 
 it." 
 
 It is a striking fact, that both the visions of angels, 
 both the first annunciations of the resurrection, and both 
 the first appearances of Christ, were made to women. 
 Why was this? It seems strange that the first tidings 
 of the resurrection from human lips should have been, 
 not from the lips of apostles, who were to be the author- 
 ized heralds of this fact, but from the women who were 
 
MAN AND WOMAN. 31 
 
 to be forbidden to speak in the church. It seems, at first 
 sight, a singular exception to the divinely ordained plan 
 for preaching the glad tidings of finished redemption. 
 Yet a little reflection will show that it is not exceptional, 
 but the very order of arrangement that is repeated in 
 every generation of the world. The fact is the same 
 that exists in the case of a vast majority of Christians 
 ever since. We first hear the story of the cross, the 
 sepulchre and the throne, not from the lips of a man who 
 stands as an ambassador for Christ, but from the lips of 
 a woman — a pious mother, sister, or nurse — who pours 
 into our infantile hearts this wonderful tale of love and 
 mercy. Some, it is true, are left to an early orphanage, 
 and some to a godless parentage ; but even of these the 
 general fact is true, that the first knowledge of Jesus is 
 learned, not from the lips of men, but from the lips of 
 women. Whatever may be the customs and laws of a 
 country,' the women of it decide the morals. They reign 
 because they hold possession of our affections. But 
 their influence is more or less salutory, according to the 
 degree of esteem which is granted them. Whether they 
 are our idols or companions, the reaction is complete, and 
 they make us such as they are themselves. It seems as 
 if nature connected our intelligence with their dignity, 
 as we connect our morality with their virtue. This, 
 therefore, is a law of eternal justice : Man cannot degrade 
 a woman without himself falling into degredation ; he 
 cannot raise them without himself becoming better. Let 
 us cast our eyes over the globe, and observe those two 
 great divisions of the human race^ the east and the west. 
 One-half of the ancient world remain without progress 
 or thought, and under the load of a barbarous cultiva- 
 tion ; women there are serfs. The other half advance 
 towards freedom and light ; the women are loved and 
 honored. 
 
 We know no rights of woman that are separated from 
 the rights of man. There is no injury inflicted upon the 
 one that does not recoil upon the other. If the Turk 
 keeps woman in abject slavery, the Turk himself becomes 
 a degenerate slave. 
 
32 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 Says the Rev. E. H. Chapin: The relation between 
 man and woman is the most beautiful expression of the 
 great law of nature. Woman is simply the equal of man — 
 nothing more, nothing less. We have no right to deter 
 mine what is woman's sphere by any arbitrary prejudices. 
 I cannot recognize any such fact as man's rights or wo- 
 man's rights ; I only recognize human rights. Woman's 
 orbit is the orbit of her humanity, and hence she ought 
 to be man's equal — equal before the world, before the 
 law, as before God. And let no one be disturbed by vis- 
 ions of strong-minded women. The question is, what is 
 truth, and not what are imaginable consequences. Man 
 may run against God's will, but cannot alter it. I urge 
 that woman should actually be something more than she 
 has been held to be. She has been placed above the 
 scale and cast below it ; she has been man's slave and 
 his empress. In one place you may see her, the poor 
 drudge of the wash-tub or the needle, working to sup- 
 port a drunken husband; in another place we see her in 
 some parlor listening to the confectionery of small talk 
 furnished by some dandy. Society around us is but 
 little more than a modification of these two pictures. 
 What we want is some way of deliverance for woman 
 from being a mere slave, and something more substan- 
 tial than those accomplishments which make her a mere 
 gewgaw. The true idea of civilization will never be 
 unfolded till woman has been placed upon an equality 
 with man. In the cabin of the Mayflower — in the war 
 of the Revolution, when the wives loaded the muskets, 
 there were such men, because there were such women. 
 The grandest transaction of history is unfolded, when 
 she stands nearest to man as an equal ; and when Chris- 
 tianity shall have reached its highest point, her heart will 
 be near his hand. Let women stand upon the ground of 
 their human nature, then there will be mutual honor and 
 mutual help ; then there will be no discordant music in 
 the march from the paradise which they left together — to 
 that paradise which they hope to attain. 
 
 It is pleasing to contemplate the theme of female ex- 
 cellence. The heart of man warms with emotion as he 
 
' MAN AND WOMAN. 33 
 
 hears of the noble deeds of woman — as he views her 
 quiet goodness — as he marks her conjugal devotion, her 
 fidelity, her firmness of principle, the thousand little 
 tendernesses clinging around her heart, animating her 
 to please by all the winning graces and attractions that 
 can fix affection ; nor relaxing after in the cultivation of 
 those powers which first commanded admiration, because 
 she has secured her victory. He loves and admires her 
 when thus true to the amiable impulses of her nature. 
 But, if captivating in the freshness and poetry of her 
 early feelings, when the fragrance of her own spirit falls 
 on everything like dew, how much higher does she erect 
 herself in his esteem when the hour of trial comes, when 
 adversity overtakes those she loves, and the appeal to 
 her sympathies is the strongest that can be made, because 
 it comes through the channel of her affections. Then see 
 what a power of endurance she exhibits ; what fortitude, 
 what energy. Qualities which, amid the sunshine of 
 prosperity, lay latent and unperceived, for want of occa- 
 sion to call them forth, now appear to view with the 
 hope-reviving influence which we may suppose a near 
 and friendly beacon would have upon the sinking heart 
 of the shipwrecked mariner. Difficulties which crush 
 the hearty spirit of man, and subdue his strength to the 
 weakness of a child, are met by her with a courage that 
 seems to increase proportionally to its demand. With a 
 self-sustaining energy, she counteracts the impression 
 of grief in her own heart, and roused by her love and 
 constancy, she turns to her partner, now dearer than 
 ever from the touch of misfortune, to console, to invig- 
 orate, to assist ; shedding a benign influence upon his 
 existence, which causes him to feel, amid all his misery, 
 that happiness still remains for him while blessed with 
 the affection of such a friend and ministrant ; that labor, 
 however rude, cannot degrade him while he is encour- 
 aged by the esteem of a heart so noble and so true. 
 
 The single woman is as important an element of pri- 
 vate and social happiness as the married one. The util- 
 ities of each are different, but both are necessary. The 
 single lady is, in some points of view, placed in a posi- 
 
34 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 tion of advantage. The wife resigns, or ought to resign, 
 her claims to general attention, and to concentrate and 
 confine her regards, wishes and objects to her chosen 
 companion, and to domestic claims and scenes. She has 
 quitted the public stage ; and seeks no more the general 
 gaze ; she has become part of a distinct and separate 
 proprietary. But the unmarried lady remains still the 
 candidate for every honorable notice, and injures no one 
 by receiving it. Those of the male sex who are in the 
 same condition, are at as full liberty to pay their proper 
 attentions as she is to receive them. Being in this posi- 
 tion to society at large, she is always interesting where- 
 ever.she goes, if she preserve good temper and cultivate 
 truly feminine qualities. No green oasis in the sandy 
 desert, nor momentary gleam of sunshine through a rift 
 in clouds that seem portentious of coming storm and 
 devastation, is more grateful than a happy, cheerful wo- 
 man ; for she is indeed the beautiful spot in what would 
 else be life's desert, and the enlivening bit of sunshine 
 that can make those around her forget the clouds of mis- 
 fortune and doubt that are ever threatening. People 
 may praise, and even elevate to a seat among the saints, 
 those who heroically die as martyrs in some holy cause, 
 or they may go wild over the possession, by others, oi 
 extraordinary gifts, that bring the world in homage to 
 their feet, or strew their pathway with roses of adulation 
 and flattery ; but no sweetness is so lasting, nor influence 
 so great, nor remembrance so holy and soothing, as that 
 of a cheerful, smiling sunshiny woman, even though she 
 may at times seem almost insignificant by the side of 
 those gifted by nature with more resplendent talents, or 
 crowned by the world with more regal honors. These 
 are the women who make life a dancing kaleidoscope of 
 hope to the beginner just crossing its threshold, and a 
 grateful panorama of delight to those who look back 
 upon its joys, and wonder if the future to which they 
 are going can crown it with anything more beautiful or 
 happifying. Nothing ever seems to go wrong with them : 
 for they make the best of all trials and crosses, and, if 
 they cannot do away altogether with the evil that an- 
 nounces itself as their guest, they cover it up and hide it 
 
MAN AND WOMAN. 35 
 
 with the good that accompanies it, till presently they 
 themselves think it must have been a blessing in disguise. 
 No trouble is too serious for them to thus gild with the 
 doubly refined gold of cheerfulness and hope ; and no 
 calamity is so dark and deep, but the sunlight of a hap- 
 py face, falling across its turbid waters, will make an an- 
 swering gleam. Oh these happy women ! how little do 
 the selfish and the sombre appreciate them at their true 
 worth ! And how often, too, do their delicate shoulders 
 bear weights that would crush others to the ground ! 
 Blessed be their eyes that they see sunshine and joy 
 where others see only woe and darkness ; even as the 
 prophets of ancient times saw angels where others could 
 see nothing but the coarse materiality everywhere mani- 
 fest ! and blessed also be the slender fingers that often 
 guide the machinery of life that leaves others, seemingly 
 more rugged, torn and bleeding! how patient we become 
 when we look into the clear depths of the first, and how 
 strong when the last twine with ours in a clasp we are 
 loth to release ! No one knows — no one ever will know 
 till we stand upon the Abrahamic heights above the lower 
 plane of selfishness — how much we owe to these cheer- 
 ful, hopeful, uncomplaining, happy women! 
 
 A happy woman ! is not she the very sparkle and sun- 
 shine of life ? A woman who is happy because she can- 
 not help it — whose smile even the coldest sprinkle of 
 misfortune cannot dampen. Men make a terrible mistake 
 when they marry for beauty, for talent, for style ; the 
 sweetest wives are those who possess the magic secret of 
 being contented under any circumstances. Rich or poor, 
 high or low, it makes no difference; the bright little 
 fountain of joy bubbles up just as musically in their hearts. 
 Do they live in a cottage ? the fire-light that leaps up on 
 its humble hearth becomes brighter than the gilded 
 chandaliers in an Aladdin palace. Do they eat brown 
 bread or drink cold water from the well ? it affords them 
 more solid satisfaction than the millionaire's pate de foie 
 gras and iced champagne. Nothing ever goes wrong 
 with them ; no trouble is so serious for them, no calam- 
 ity so dark and deep that the sunlight of their smiles 
 
36 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 will not " make the best of it." Was ever the stream of 
 light so dark and nnpropitions that the sunshine of a 
 happy face falling across its turbid tide would not awaken 
 an answering gleam ? Why, these joyous tempered peo- 
 ple do not know the good they do. What spectacle 
 more pleasing does the world afford than a happy woman 
 contented in her sphere, ready at all times to benefit her 
 little world by her exertions, and transforming the briars 
 and thorns of life into roses of Paradise by the magic of 
 her touch ? There are those who are thus happy be- 
 cause they cannot help it — no misfortunes dampen their 
 sweet smiles, and they diffuse a cheerful glow around 
 them as they pursue the even tenor of their way. They 
 have the secret of contentment, whose value is above 
 the philosopher's stone ; for without seeking the baser 
 exchange of gold, which may buy some sorts of pleasure, 
 they convert everything they touch into joy. They may 
 be rich or poor, high or low, admired or forsaken by 
 the fickle world ; but the sparkling fountain of happi- 
 ness bubbles ap in their hearts and makes them radiant- 
 ly beautiful. Though they live in a log cabin, they make 
 it shine with a lustre which Kings and Queens may covet, 
 and they make wealth a fountain of blessings to the 
 children of poverty. Happy women are the highest 
 types of humanity, and we cannot say how much we 
 owe to them for the progress of the race. A good wo- 
 man never grows old. Years may pass over her head, 
 but if benevolence and virtue dwell in her heart, she is 
 as cheerful as when the spring of life first opened to her 
 view. When we look upon a good woman, we never 
 think of her age ; she looks as charming as when the 
 rose of youth first bloomed on her cheek. That rose has 
 not faded yet ; it will never fade. In her neighborhood 
 she is the friend and benefactor. In the church, the de- 
 vout worshipper and exemplary christian. Who does 
 not love and respect the woman who has passed her days 
 in acts of kindness and mercy — who has been the friend 
 of man and God — whose whole life has been a scene oi 
 kindness and love, a devotion to truth and religion ? We 
 repeat, such a woman cannot grow old. She will always 
 
MAN AND WOMAN. 37 
 
 be fresh and buoyant in spirits, and active in humble 
 deeds of mercy and benevolence. If the young lady 
 desires to retain the bloom and beauty of youth, let her 
 not yield to the sway of fashion and folly ; let her love 
 truth and virtue ; and to the close of life she will retain 
 those feelings which now make life appear a garden of 
 sweets — ever fresh and ever new. So long as a woman 
 inspires love she is not old. But, what is it to be old ? 
 It does not depend upon the fact that we have existed 
 during a certain mysterious number of years which have 
 been allotted to each of us. To be old, is to have no 
 longer a beauty that charms. If a woman preserves the 
 attractions of youth until she reaches the age of one 
 hundred, she will be younger than the woman of twenty 
 who has lost them. Ah, if only the mellow-minded 
 matron could preserve the shining skin of youth! but 
 still this mellowness accompanies decay. If a woman 
 could be beautiful without, when the mind has individu- 
 alized within, when she can talk from her own experi- 
 ence, not from her mamma's, and is qualified to hold an 
 unrenected opinion, because she has had her own suffer- 
 ing, her own genuine loves and aversions, ay, and her 
 chastening disappointments — those gray tints in the land- 
 scape, without which all is glare and vulgarity — what an 
 enchantress should we have ! nothing could withstand 
 her. But with the mind of the siren come the wrinkles 
 and the gray hairs to save us. The real influence of a 
 true woman is stronger to-day than ever, only our stand- 
 ard of true womanhood is higher. We ask more at her 
 hands because we realize more fully her magnificent ca- 
 pabilities. Upon the stage her greatness has long been 
 recognized, but in the world of art, and music, and fic- 
 tion, and the still nobler social influences which she 
 wields, her laurels are greener and of fresher growth. 
 For the first time, too, her intellect is grappling with 
 subjects hitherto denied her. Into the mysteries of Na- 
 ture she is taking her first step. Science is showing her 
 strange wonders. Philosophy is teaching her the occult 
 forces and hidden laws of the world of thought. The 
 dull monotony of domestic duty rises in the dignity of 
 
38 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 intelligent labor as she sees its deep-meaning and far- 
 reaching power. For the old helplessness comes the 
 restful consciousness of acknowledged strength ; and the 
 stifling calm of a life without high aims, is exchanged 
 for the quickened impulses and healthful activities of 
 ambitious effort. 
 
 D'Israeli, speaking of the society of refined and charm- 
 ing women, says : — " It is an acquaintance which, when 
 habitual, exercises a great influence over the tone of 
 the mind, even if it does not produce any more violent 
 effects. It refines taste, quickens the perception, and 
 gives, as it were, a grace and flexibility to your intellect." 
 Somewhere else the same writer remarks that, u men 
 are as much stimulated to mental effort by the sympathy 
 of the gentler sex, as by the desire of power and fame. 
 Women are more disposed to appreciate worth and intel 
 lectual superiority than men, or, at least, they are a» 
 often captivated by the noble manifestations of genius, 
 as by the fascinations of manners and the charms ol 
 persons." And Sidney Smith says: — " Among men of 
 sense and liberal politeness, a woman who has successfully 
 cultivated her mind, without diminishing the gentleness 
 and propriety of her manners, is always sure to meet 
 with a respect and attention bordering on enthusiasm." 
 Again, another writer observes that, " Of all other views 
 a man may, in time, grow tired, but in the countenances 
 of women there is a variety which sets satiety at defi- 
 ance. ' The divine right of beauty,' says Junius, 'is the 
 only divine right a man can acknowledge, and a pretty 
 woman the only tyrant he is not authorized to resist. M 
 
 Said Mr. Soule, in a speech delivered in the California 
 Senate : — " When I reflect upon the conduct of many 
 married men in California — their faithlessness to every 
 vow which they made at the altar — how completely they 
 fail in the performance of their duties — how virtuous 
 and industrious, faithful and patient women are imposed 
 upon by worthless brutes of husbands, as great tyrants at 
 home as drunkards and debauchers abroad — my respect 
 for the sex prompts me to do all within my power to 
 protect her rights and secure her happiness. I love wo- 
 
MAN AND WOMAN. 39 
 
 man — I have loved her all my life, and dying hope to be 
 faithful to the same high and inspiring sentiments. For 
 amid all the varied scenes, temptations, struggles and 
 hopes of existence, one star, brighter than all others, has 
 lighted and guided me onward ; if ever I had any high 
 and noble ambition, the exciting energy has been in the 
 approving smile coming from the eye of woman. And I 
 judge her influence is thus upon others. Gentle in her 
 affections, yet mighty in her influence, her medium rule 
 is as powerful as the ballot box, and she only needs the 
 protection of law against those who have no law in their 
 habits and propensities. She has lulled me from my 
 boyhood with the soft and winning influence of her vir- 
 tues and beauty. I remember my first love ; my baby 
 affections at four years of age. I have been in love 
 nearly every month since — save the dark and rayless 
 days and years which succeeded the desolate hearth and 
 made the heart, too, desolate. And never, sir, while I 
 remember my mother, long since in the grave — I remem- 
 ber the night when she died — never while I recollect my 
 sisters and the abuses which might have been theirs — 
 never while I hold in memory one other — and her mem- 
 ory is all that is left to me — shall I refuse to give my 
 voice and influence, and my vote, for any measure neces- 
 sary to protect and cherish the weaker and better por- 
 tion of creation against the oppression, neglect or abuse 
 of my own sex." 
 
 The influence which woman exerts is silent and still, 
 felt rather than seen, not chaining the hands, but res- 
 training our actions by gliding into the heart. Quincy 
 being asked why there were more women than men, re- 
 plied, u It is in conformity with the arrangements of 
 nature. We always see more of heaven than of earth." 
 He cannot be an unhappy man who has the love and 
 smile of woman to accompany him in every department 
 of life. The world may look dark and cheerless without 
 — enemies may gather in his path — but when he returns 
 to his fireside, and feels the tender love of woman, he 
 forgets his cares and troubles, and is a comparatively 
 happy man. He is but half prepared for the journey of 
 
40 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 life, who takes not with him that friend who will forsake 
 him in no emergency — who will divide his sorrows — in- 
 crease his joys — lift the veil from his heart — and throw 
 sunshine amid the darkest scenes. No, that man cannot 
 be miserable who has such a companion, be he ever so 
 poor, despised, and trodden upon by the world. No 
 trait of character is more valuable in a female than the 
 possession of a sweet temper. Home can never be made 
 happy without it. It is like the flowers that spring up 
 in our pathway, reviving and cheering us. Let a man 
 go home at night, wearied and worn by the toils of the 
 day, and how soothing is a word by a good disposition ! 
 It is sunshine falling on his heart. He is happy, and the 
 cares of life are forgotten. A sweet temper has a sooth- 
 ing influence over the minds of a whole family — when it 
 is found in the wife or mother, you observe kindness and 
 love predominating over the natural feeling of a bad heart. 
 Smiles, kind words and looks characterize the children, 
 and peace and love have their dwelling there. Study, 
 then, to acquire and retain a sweet temper. It is more 
 valuable than gold, it captivates more than beauty ; and 
 to the close of life, it retains all its freshness and power. 
 The next best thing to a really good woman is a really 
 good-natured one. Nothing can be more touching than 
 to behold a woman who had been all tenderness and de- 
 pendence, and alive to every trivial roughness while 
 treading the prosperous paths of life, suddenly rising in 
 mental force to be the comforter and supporter of her 
 husband under misfortune, and abiding with unshrinking 
 firmness the bitterest winds of adversity. As the vine 
 which has long twined its graceful foliage about the oak, 
 and been lifted by it in sunshine, will, when the hardy 
 plant is rived by the thunderbolt, cling round it with its 
 caressing tendrils, and bind up its scattered boughs. So 
 it is beautifully ordained that woman who is the mere 
 dependent and ornament of man in happiest hours, 
 should be his stay and solace when smitten by sudden 
 calamity. 
 
 Mysterious woman! Place her among flowers, foster 
 her as a tender plant, and she is a thing of fancy, way- 
 
MAN AND WOMAN. 41 
 
 wardness, and sometimes folly — annoyed by a dew drop, 
 fretted by the touch of a butterfly's wing, and ready to 
 faint at the rustle of a beetle ; the zephyrs are too rough, 
 the showers too heavy, and she is overpowered by the 
 perfume of a rose bud. But let real calamity come — 
 rouse her affections — enkindle the fires of her heart, and 
 mark her then ; how her heart strengthens itself — how 
 strong is her purpose. Place her in the heat of battle — 
 give her a child, a bird — anything she loves or pities, to 
 protect — and see her, as in a relative instance, raising 
 her white arms as a shield, as her own blood crimsons 
 her upturned forehead, praying for life to protect the 
 helpless. Transplant her in the dark places of earth — 
 awaken her energies to action, and her breath becomes 
 a healing — her presence a blessing. She disputes, inch 
 by inch, the stride of the stalking pestilence, when man, 
 the strong and brave, shrinks away, pale and affrighten- 
 cd. Misfortune daunts her not; she wears away a life 
 of silent endurance, and goes forward with less timidity 
 than to her bridal. In prosperity she is a bud full of 
 odors, waiting but for the winds of adversity to scatter 
 them abroad — pure gold, valuable, but united in the 
 furnace. In short — woman is a miracle — a mystery, the 
 center from which radiates the great charm of existence. 
 Under the most depressing circumstances woman's weak- 
 ness becomes fearless courage, all her shrinking and 
 sinking passes away, and her spirit acquires the firmness 
 of marble — adamantine firmness, when .circumstances 
 drive her to put forth all her energies under the inspira- 
 tion of her affections. 
 
 When, in despair, man's scarce uplifted eye 
 Sees foes who linger, fancied friends who fly, 
 Woman steps forth and boldly braves the shock, 
 Firm to his interests as the granite rock ; 
 She stems the wave, unshrinking meets the storm, 
 And wears his guardian angel's earthly form ! 
 And if she cannot check the tempest's course, 
 She points a shelter from its whelming force ! 
 When envy's sneer would coldly blight his name, 
 And busy tongues are sporting with his fame, 
 Who solves each doubt, clears every mist away, 
 And makes him radiant in the face of day ? 
 She who would peril fortune, fame and life, 
 For man, the ingrate — the devoted wife. 
 
42 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 Much of the gold-dust of humanity lies beneath our 
 feet, unseen by the multitude, in unwritten biography. 
 Particularly is this true of the female sex. Besides the 
 mother of Washington, there have been Mary's, whose 
 characters have been equally as beautiful as hers ; and 
 yet they are wholly unknown to fame. They had neither 
 son nor husband possessed of a sufficiency of the ele- 
 ments of greatness to make themselves famous ; conse- 
 quently these good mothers lived, wrought, died, and 
 were unheard of. Yet they lived not in vain ; if merit- 
 ing the title of "excellent," in the spiritual sense, their 
 work was approved by their Divine Master ; their influ- 
 ence was felt powerfully in a limited circle ; and while 
 they have gone to their reward, the impress of their 
 character is left behind, to be felt by generations to come. 
 Women in their course of action, describe a smaller cir- 
 cle than men ; but the perfection of a circle consists not 
 in its dimensions, but in its correctness. There may be 
 here and there a soaring female who looks down with 
 disdain on the paltry affairs of "this dim speck called 
 earth ;"" who despises order and regularity as indications 
 of a groveling spirit ; but a sound mind judges directly 
 contrary. The larger the capacity, the wider is the space 
 of duties it takes in. Proportion and propriety are 
 among the best secrets of domestic wisdom; and 
 there is no surer test of integrity and judgment than a 
 well proportioned expenditure. 
 
 Many families have owed their prosperity full as much 
 to the propriety of female management as to the know- 
 ledge and activity of the father. The managing woman 
 is a pearl among women; she is one of the prizes in the 
 great lottery of life, and the man who draws her may 
 rejoice for the rest of his days. Better than riches, she 
 is a fortune in herself — a gold mine never failing in its 
 yield — a spring of pleasant water, whose banks are 
 fringed with moss and flowers when all around is bleached 
 white with sterile sand. The managing woman can 
 do anything, and she does everything well. Perceptive 
 and executive, of quick sight and steady hand, she al- 
 ways knows exactly what is wanting, and supplies the 
 
MAN AND WOMAN. 43 
 
 deficiency with a tact and cleverness peculiar to herself. 
 She knows the capabilities of persons as well as things, 
 for she has an intuitive knowledge of character. The 
 managing woman, if not always patient, is always ener- 
 getic, and can never be disappointed into inaction. 
 Though she has to teach the same thing over and over 
 again, she is never weary of her vocation of arranging 
 and ordering, and never less than hopeful of favorable 
 results. The woman, poor, ill clad as she may be, who 
 balances her income and expenditures — toils and sweats 
 in quiet, unrepining mood among her children, and pre- 
 sents them morning and evening, as offerings of love in 
 rosy health and cheerful purity — is the proudest dame, 
 and the bliss of a happy home shall dwell with her for- 
 ever. If one prospect be dearer than another to bend 
 the proud and inspire the broken-hearted — it is for a 
 smiling wife to meet her husband at the door with his 
 host of happy children. How it stirs up the tired blood 
 of an exhausted man when he hears the rush of children 
 upon the staircase — when the crow and carol of their 
 young voices mix in glad confusion, and the smallest 
 mounts and sinks into his arms amidst right mirthful 
 shouts ! 
 
 Rev. Thomas K. Beecher says: " That the woman who 
 is able to systematize and carry on smoothly the work of 
 an ordinary family, illustrates higher sagacity than is 
 called for by seven-tenths of the tasks done by men. 
 Men take one trade ; and work at it; a mother's and 
 house-keeper's work requires a touch from all trades. A 
 man has his work hours, and his definite tasks ; a woman 
 has work at all hours, and an incessant confusion of tasks. 
 Let any man do a woman's work for a single day — wash 
 and dress the children, having provided their clothes the 
 night before ; see that breakfast is under way to suit a 
 fault-finding husband ; the wash-boiler on with water for 
 the wash, and the clothes assorted ready for the washing ; 
 the dish-water heating, and the luncheon brought out 
 ready for the school children; a nice dinner in the 
 father's dinner pail ; the beds made after proper airing ; 
 the father's convenience exactly hit for family prayers, 
 
44 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 the systematic sweeping of the house at least once a 
 week, and of lower rooms once to three times a day, ac- 
 cording to the number of men to bring in the mud; the 
 actual washing and out-hanging of the clothes ; the dry- 
 ing, sprinkling, and to-morrow the ironing, the same 
 sorting and mending of them, and the provision of new 
 ere the old give out ; the making of bread three times a 
 week, with cake and pies intercalated judiciously ; pick- 
 les, preserves, and cellar stores to be laid in, and not to 
 be forgotten in their season ; children's manners attended 
 to ; company to be entertained ; her own person to be 
 tidied up to please her husband's eye ; the tired man to 
 be welcomed and waited on by the no less tired wife, 
 and the home made cheerful ; his trousers to be patched 
 after he goes to bed, so that he can put them on in the 
 morning ; the children to be helped about their lessons ; 
 and reminded not to forget their Sunday school lessons ; 
 the shopping and marketing to be done for the house : 
 hold ; house repairs to be attended to, and matters in 
 general to be kept straight around home. Meanwhile, 
 papa must not be hindered about his work, because his 
 work brings the money. Yes, man's work brings the 
 money, but does not so tax the head, and heart, and hand, 
 as woman's work does." 
 
 An over-worked woman is always a sad sight — sadder 
 a great deal than an over-worked man, because she is 
 so much more fertile in her capacities of suffering than a 
 man. She has so many varieties of headache — sometimes 
 as if Jael were driving the nail that killed Sisera, into 
 her temples — sometimes letting her work with half her 
 brain, while the other half throbs as if it would go to 
 pieces — sometimes tightening round the brows as if her 
 cap band were Luke's iron crown — and then her neural- 
 gia's, and her back-aches, and her fits of depression, in 
 which she thinks she is nothing, and less than nothing, 
 and those paroxysms which men speak lightly of as hys- 
 terical — convulsions, that is all, only not commonly fatal 
 ones — so many trials which belong to her fine and 
 mobile structure, that she is always entitled to pity when 
 she is placed in conditions which develop her nervous 
 tendencies. 
 
MAN AND WOMAN. 45 
 
 Every wife knows her husband's income, or ought to 
 know it. That knowledge should be the guide of her 
 conduct. A clear understanding respecting domestic 
 expenses is necessary to the peace of every dwelling. If 
 it be little, "Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, 
 than a stalled ox and hatred therewith." If it be am- 
 ple, let it be enjoyed with all thankfulness. We believe 
 that partners in privation are more to each other than 
 partners in wealth. Those who' have suffered together 
 love more than those who have rejoiced together. Love 
 is "the drop of honey in the draught of gall." When 
 the wife, seeing her duty, has made up her mind to this, 
 she will brighten her little home with smiles that will 
 make it a region of perpetual sunshine. She will never 
 even imply a wish for things which are the appendages 
 of wealth. She knows they could be purchased at a 
 cost from which she turns shudderingly. Following with 
 the acuteness of a quickened affection every turn of her 
 husband's thoughts, if she should see that he leans to- 
 wards the world's good things, that he gives orders to 
 his wine merchant beyond the bounds of their enforced 
 temperate indulgences, that luxuries are sent home to 
 her, then let her bestir herself for his safety and her 
 own, for they are indissolubly united. If he bring her 
 costly boxes of sweetmeats, half-a-dozen packages of 
 French gloves, or even half-dollar bouquets, then let her 
 remember that these things are the beginning of evil. 
 Let her take her woman's power into her own hands, 
 and by all the gentle arts of love and the powerful ar- 
 guments of truth, let her win him back to contentment 
 with the lot that Heaven has bestowed, and so forcing 
 him to acknowledge that its best* blessing is his wife. 
 
 A saving woman at the head of a family is the very 
 best savings bank yet established — one that receives de- 
 posits daily and hourly, with no costly machinery to 
 manage it. The idea of saving is a pleasant one ; and 
 if u the women " would imbibe it at once, they would 
 cultivate and adhere to it, and thus, when they were not 
 aware of it, would be laying the foundation of a compe- 
 tent security in a stormy time, and, shelter in a rainy 
 
46 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 day. The woman who sees to her own house has a large 
 field to save in. The best way to make her comprehend 
 it, is for her to keep an account of current expenses. 
 Probably not one wife in ten has any idea how much are 
 the expenditures of herself and family. Where from 
 five hundred to a thousand dollars are expended annu- 
 ally, there is a chance to save something, if the attempt 
 is only made. Let the house-wife take the idea, act 
 upon it, strive over it, and she will save many dollars — 
 perhaps hundreds — where before she thought it impos- 
 sible. This is a duty — not a prompting of avarice — a 
 moral obligation that rests upon " the woman," as well 
 as the man. 
 
 The saving woman is generally a woman of good 
 taste. You see this lady turning a cold eye to the as- 
 surance of shopmen and the recommendations of milli- 
 ners. She cares not how original a pattern may be, if it 
 be ugly, or how recent a shape if it be awkward. What- 
 ever laws fashion dictates, she follows a law of her own, 
 and is never behind it. She wears very beautiful things, 
 which people generally suppose to be brought from Paris, 
 or at least made by a French milliner, but which are 
 often bought at the nearest town, and made by her own 
 help. Not that the costume is either rich or new ; on the 
 contrary, she wears many a cheap dress, but it is always 
 pretty, and many an old one, but it is always good. She 
 deals in no gaudy confusion of colors, nor does she affect 
 a studied sobriety ; but she either refreshes you with a 
 spirited contrast, or composes you with a judicious har- 
 mony. Not a scrap of tinsel or trumpery appears about 
 her. She puts no faith in velvet bands or gilt buttons, 
 or twisted cording. She is quite aware, however, that 
 the garnish is as important as the dress ; all her inner 
 borders and beadings are delicate and fresh ; and should 
 anything peep out which is not intended to be seen, it is 
 quite as much so as that which is. After all there is no 
 great art either in her fashions or her materials. The 
 secret simply consists in her knowing the three grand 
 unities of dress — her own age and her own points. And 
 no woman can dress well who does not. After this we 
 
MAN AND WOMAN. 47 
 
 need not say that whoever is attracted by the costume 
 will not be disappointed in the wearer. She may not be 
 handsome nor accomplished, but we will answer for her 
 being even-tempered, well informed, thoroughly sensible, 
 and a complete lady. 
 
 Has Woman a profession? Certainly she has; and its 
 duties in diguity and importance yield to those of none 
 of the professions of man. The training of the human 
 mind in childhood and youth — the care of the human 
 body in infancy and sickness — and the conservation of 
 the family state — ^these are the distinctive duties of Wo- 
 man's profession. 
 
 Wherever a woman goes, says Gov. Briggs, you may 
 look for something good ; to whatever they give their 
 countenance and support, you may depend upon it that 
 success is to be looked for. Whenever they give their 
 support to institutions, by coming out and listening to 
 lectures, -by giving their aid, their support, their exam 
 pie and their presence, it argues favorably for the cause. 
 Now let me tell you, my female friends, that you have a 
 greater part to perform, in the business of educating 
 children, than any body else. I remember twelve or 
 fifteen years ago, while at home, I, for the first time, 
 possessed myself of the letters of Mr. Adams' mother, 
 and read them with exceeding interest. I remember an 
 expression in one of the letters addressed to her son, 
 while yet a boy of twelve years old, in Europe ; says 
 she — "I would rather see you laid in your grave, than 
 that you should grow a profane and graceless boy." On 
 my return to Washington I went over to Mr. Adams' 
 seat one day, and said I — l< Mr. Adams, I found out who 
 made you !" "What do you mean ?" saidhe. Ireplied, 
 " I have been reading the letters of your mother !" If I 
 had named that dear name to some little boy, who had 
 been for weeks away from his dear mother, his eye could 
 not have flashed more brightly, or his face glowed quicker, 
 than did the eye and face of that venerable old man 
 when I pronounced the name of his mother. He started 
 up, in his peculiar manner, and emphatically said — "Yes! 
 Mr. Briggs, all that is good in me, I owe to my mother." 
 
48 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 Oh what a testimony was that, from this venerable old 
 man, to his mother, who had in his remembrance all the 
 scenes of his manhood! " All that is good in me I owe 
 to my mother!" Mothers! think of this when your 
 bright eyed little boys are about you ! Mothers make 
 the first impression upon the minds of their children, 
 and those impressions will be the last to be effaced. 
 
 The influence which the wife of Gen. Jackson had over 
 her husband is said to have been very extraordinary. 
 She was of obscure origin, and totally uneducated ; yet 
 she inherited from nature those fine and noble traits of 
 her sex to such perfection that her power was very great. 
 Gen. Jackson was attached to her in early life, but by 
 some means or other the matter was interrupted, and she 
 married another, who proved a villain, and the connec- 
 tion was a most unhappy one. General Jackson became 
 interested in her, and the consequence was a divorce — 
 after which he married her. She is said to have possessed 
 none of those accomplishments which are supposed to 
 adorn fashionable life ; reared in the backwoods, seeing 
 and knowing but little of refined society. Yet her fine 
 person, strong affections, and good sense, the three essen- 
 tials of a woman, enabled her to take hold with irresisti- 
 ble force of the bold, strong, and fiery warrior and 
 statesman to whom she was wedded. It was the lion 
 held in the embrace of the fawn. The influence she ex- 
 ercised is said to have bordered on the superstitious. He 
 imagined that no power or act of his could succeed, or 
 be carried out, averse to her will, or in opposition to her 
 feelings. She seemed his guardian angel by day and by 
 night ; holding in her hands his life, his fate, his all. An 
 intimate friend of his says, that so long as he lived, he 
 wore her miniature near his heart, and never alluded to 
 her except in a manner so subdued and full of reverence, 
 that the listener was deeply impressed with her transcen- 
 dent worth. 
 
 Dr. Boardman, in his admirable work, "Hints on Do- 
 mestic happiness," inculcates this doctrine, which we 
 cordially endorse: In a conversation I once held with an 
 eminent minister of our church, he made this fine obser- 
 
MAN AND WOMAN. 49 
 
 vation: " We will say nothing of the manner in which 
 that sex usually conduct an argument ; but the intuitive 
 judgments of women are often more to be relied upon 
 than the conclusions which we reach by an elaborate 
 process of reasoning.". No man that has an intelligent 
 wife, or who is accustomed to the society of educated 
 women, will dispute this. Times without number you 
 must have known them decide questions on the instant, 
 and with unerring accuracy, which you had been poring 
 over for hours, perhaps, with no other result than to find 
 yourself getting deeper and deeper into the tangled maze 
 of doubts and difficulties. It were hardly generous to 
 allege that they achieve these feats less by reasoning 
 than by a sort of sagacity which approximates to the 
 sure instinct of the animal races ; and yet there seems to 
 be some ground for the remark of a witty French writer, 
 that, when a man has toiled step by step up a flight of 
 stairs he will be sure to find a woman at the top ; but 
 she will not be able to tell how she got there. How she 
 got there, however, is of little moment. If the conclu- 
 sions a woman has reached are sound, that is all that con- 
 cerns us. And they are very apt to be sound on the 
 practical matters of domestic and secular life, nothing 
 but prejudice or self-conceit can prevent us from acknow- 
 ledging. The inference, therefore, is unavoidable, that 
 the man who thinks it beneath his dignity to take counsel 
 with an intelligent wife, stands in his own light, and be- 
 trays that lack of judgment which he tacitly attributes 
 to her. 
 
 When a woman is possessed of a high degree of tact, 
 she sees, as by a kind of second sight, when any little 
 emergency is like to occur, or when, to use a more fa- 
 miliar expression, things do not seem to go right. She 
 is thus aware of any sudden turn in conversation, and 
 prepared for what it may lead to ; but above all, she can 
 penetrate into the state of mind of those she is placed in 
 contact with, so as to detect the gathering gloom upon 
 another's brow, before the mental storm shall have reached 
 any formidable height ; to know when the tone of voice 
 has altered ; when any unwelcome thought shall have 
 
50 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 presented itself, and when the pulse of feeling is beating 
 higher or lower, in consequence of some apparently tri- 
 fling circumstance which has just transpired. In these 
 and innumerable other instances of a similar nature, the 
 woman of tact not only perceives the variations which 
 are constantly taking place in the atmosphere of social 
 life, but she adapts herself to them with a facility which 
 the law of love enables her to carry out, so as to spare 
 her friends the pain and annoyance which so frequently 
 arise out of the mere mismanagement of familiar and 
 apparently unimportant affairs. And how often do these 
 seeming trifles — these accidental betrayals of what there 
 would have been no duplicity in concealing — how often 
 do these wound us more than direct unkindness. 
 
 A lady will look a servant who comes to be hired iD 
 the face, and say, he is not honest. She cannot tell you 
 why she thinks so, she says she does not like his expres- 
 sion ; she feels he is not honest — no consideration would 
 induce her to take him into her service. He has the best 
 of character, and you engage him ; he robs you — you 
 may be quite sure he will do that. Years after, another 
 man comes ; the same lady looks him in the face, and 
 says be, too, is not honest ; she says so, again, fresh from 
 her mere insight ; but you, also, say he is not honest. 
 You say, I remember I had a servant with just the same 
 look about him, three years ago, and he robbed me. 
 This is one great distinction of the female intellect ; it 
 walks directly and unconsciously, by more delicate in- 
 sight and a more refined and a more trusted intuition, 
 to an end to which men's minds grope carefully and 
 ploddingly along. Women have exercised a most bene- 
 ficial influence in softening the hard and untruthful out- 
 line which knowledge is apt to assume in the hands of 
 direct scientific observers and experimenters ; they have 
 prevented the casting aside of a mass of most valuable 
 truth, which is too fine to be caught in the material sieve, 
 and eludes the closest questioning of the microscope 
 and the test-glass; which is allied with our passions, our 
 feelings ; and especially holds the fine boundary-line 
 where mind and matter, sense and spirit, wave their 
 
MAN AND WOMAN. 5] 
 
 floating and undistinguishable boundaries, and exercise 
 their complex action and reaction. 
 
 It is more honorable to have the regard of a few noble 
 women, than to be popular among a greater number of 
 men. Having in themselves the qualities that command 
 our love, they are, for that reason, the better able to ap- 
 preciate the traits that deserve to inspire. The heart 
 must be judged by the heart, and men are too intellectual 
 in the process by which they form their regards. Some 
 ladies will forgive silliness ; but none ill manners. And 
 there are but few capable of judging of your learning 
 or genius ; but all of your behavior. 
 
 Though men boast of holding the reins, the woman 
 generally tell them which way they must drive. Sher- 
 idan beautifully said : — " Women govern us, let us render 
 them perfect ; the more th,ey are enlightened, so much 
 the more shall we be. On the cultivation of the mind 
 of women depends the wisdom of men." "Woman," 
 says a western orator, "wields the Archimedean lever, 
 whose fulcrum is childhood, whose weight is the world, 
 whose length is all time, and whose sweep is eternity." 
 " There is nothing," says Sir Samuel Romilly, " by which 
 I have thought life more profited, than by the just ob- 
 servations, the good opinion, and the sincere and gentle 
 encouragement of amiable and sensible women." It has 
 been very justly said, that without female society the 
 beginning of our lives would be helpless, the meridian 
 without refinement, and the close without comfort. The 
 strongest man feels the influence of woman's gentlest 
 thoughts, as the mightiest oak quivers in the softest 
 breeze. We confess to a great distrust of that man who 
 persistently underrates woman. Never did language 
 better apply to an adjective than when she called the 
 wife the " better-half." We admire the ladies because 
 of their beauty, respect them because of their virtues, 
 adore them because of their intelligence, and love them 
 because we canH help it 
 
 I have always thanked God, says an old' philosopher, 
 that I was not born a woman, deeming her the bestower 
 rather than the enjoyer of happiness — the flower-crowned 
 
52 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 sacrifice offered up to the human lord of creation. Heaven 
 knows how many simple-minded women, have been 
 kissed, cherished, and wept over by men of far loftier 
 intellect. So it will always be to the end of time. It 
 is a lesson worth learning by those young creatures who 
 seek to allure by their accomplishments, or to dazzle by 
 their genius, that though he may admire, no man ever 
 loves a woman for these things. He loves her for what 
 is essentially distinct from, though not incompatible with 
 them — her woman's nature, and her heart. This is why 
 we so often see a man of high genius and intellectual 
 power pass by the De Staels and the Corinnes, to take 
 unto his bosom some wayside flower, who has nothing 
 on earth to make her worthy of him, except that she is 
 — what so few of your "female celebrities" are — a 
 true woman. 
 
 Some one writes: u We like homely women. We have 
 always liked them. We do not carry the peculiarity far 
 enough to include the hideous or positively ugly ; for 
 since beauty and money are the only capital the world 
 will recognize in women, they are more to be pitied than 
 admired ; but we have a chivalric, enthusiastic regard for 
 plain women ! We never saw one who was not modest, 
 and unassuming, and sweet tempered, and seldom came 
 across one who was not virtuous, and had not a good 
 heart. Made aware early in life of their want of beauty 
 by the slighted attentions of the opposite sex, vanity and 
 affectation never take root in their hearts. See them in 
 the street, at home, or in the church, and they are always 
 the same ; and the smile which ever lives upon the face 
 is not forced there to fascinate, but as the spontaneous 
 sunshine reflected from a kind heart — a flower which 
 takes root in the soul and blooms upon the lips, inspiring 
 respect instead of passion. Plain women make good 
 wives, good mothers, cheerful homes and happy husbands, 
 and we never see one but we thank heaven that it has 
 kindly created women of sense, as well as beauty, for it 
 is seldom a female is found possessing both." 
 
 Another writer says : " There are two classes of good 
 women — the Marthas and the Marys. The former rep- 
 
MAN AND WOMAN. 53 
 
 resent the active, and the latter the passive voice of the 
 feminine conjugation. Without by any means contro- 
 verting the Scriptural idea, we borrow the names there 
 used to illustrate facts in modern social life. Both Mar- 
 thas and Marys are affectionate, but the love of Mary is 
 a sentimental dream, and evaporates in verbal homage 
 and empty caresses. Mary will tie a bouquet for you, or 
 possibly knit a purse, if she had abundant leisure. She 
 will join you in a quiet stroll, especially when the calls 
 of duty are urgent in the house, but even then she pre- 
 fers a drive. She absorbs attentions without rendering 
 many ; she makes a luxury of friendship, and either 
 wears it like a jewel or drinks it like a julep. She 
 sweetly assures you that "you are worth so much to her." 
 Meantime, except that she charm your fancy, she is worth 
 very little to you. With Martha it is otherwise. Her 
 love is untiring and practicable. She gives where Mary 
 receives. She prepares the entertainment which Mary 
 enjoys. She smooths your pillow, while Mary is kissing 
 you good night, and repairs your wardrobe in an ante- 
 room while you are lost in slumber, she meanwhile 
 breathing a prayer for your welfare, of which you do 
 not dream. She takes care of the children while you 
 go with Mary to the excursion ; she packs the refresh- 
 ments for the pic-nic, while Mary helps you to arrange 
 the flowers. She takes cheerfully the roughest duties, 
 because her dress is of a firm material, that will neither 
 "tear nor soil ; while Mary requires your aid to enable her 
 to protect from injury her gossamer berage. If there is 
 any repulsive task that must be done in solitude, that 
 admits of no assistance, and elicits no praise, give your- 
 self no uneasiness — Martha will attend to it. She has a 
 positive genius for that kind of thing. Indeed, Martha 
 is a very convenient person to have in the house. It is 
 pleasant to think that she will do whatever she can for 
 you, and that she does it because she loves you. You 
 sometimes drop her a kind word when you think of it^ 
 just to see her face light up in consequence. At such 
 times she is almost pretty. You regret that she looks 
 ordinarily so thin and anxious. You hear her cough of 
 
54 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 a morning, and excuse an occasional neglect of some or 
 many of your stated comforts. You are surprised and 
 shocked when she dies some day. You blend your tears 
 with Mary's, (Mary is beautiful in tears,) and 'you feel 
 that sympathy is sweet. You plant a rose — not a thorn- 
 less rose — above Martha's grave, and after a proper in- 
 terval of sorrow — marry Mary. 
 
 The following are given as natural characteristics oi 
 women : The English woman is respectful and proud , 
 the French woman is gay and agreeable ; the Italian is 
 ardent and passionate ; the American is sincere and af- 
 fectionate. With an English woman love is a principle; 
 with a French woman it is a caprice ; with an Italian it 
 is a passion ; with an American it is a sentiment. A man 
 is married to an English lady ; united to a French wo- 
 man ; cohabits with an Italian ; and is wedded to an 
 American. An English woman is anxious to secure a 
 lord ; a French woman, a companion ; an Italian, a lover ; 
 an American, a husband. The Englishman respects his 
 lady ; the Frenchman esteems his companion ; the Italian 
 adores his mistress ; the American loves his wife. At 
 night the Englishman returns to his house ; the French- 
 man to his establishment ; the Italian to his retreat ; the 
 American to his home. When an Englishman is sick, his 
 lady visits him ; when a Frenchman is sick, his com- 
 panion pities him ; when an Italian is sick, his mistress 
 sighs over him ; when an American is sick, his wife nur- 
 ses him. When an Englishman dies, his lady is bereaved ; 
 when a Frenchman dies, his companion grieves ; when 
 an Italian dies, his mistress laments ; when an American 
 dies, his wife mourns. An English woman instructs her 
 offspring ; a French woman teaches her progeny ; an 
 Italian rears her young ; an American educates her child. 
 
 An old Spanish writer says that a woman is quite per- 
 fect and absolute in beauty if she have thirty good points. 
 Here they are : Three things white — the skin, the teeth, 
 the hands ; three black — the eyes, eyebrows and eye- 
 lashes; three red — the lips, the cheeks, the nails; three 
 long — the body, the hair, the hands; three short — the 
 teeth, the ears, the feet ; three broad — the chest, the 
 
MAN ^ND WOMAN. 55 
 
 brow, the space between the eyebrows ; three narrow — 
 the mouth, the waist, the instep ; three large — the arm, 
 the hip, the calf; three free— the fingers, the hair, the 
 lips ; three small — the breast, the nose, the head. Thirty 
 in all. A Chinese maxim says : We require four things 
 for woman — that virtue dwell in her heart, that modesty 
 play on her brow, that sweetness flow from her lips, and 
 industry occupy her hands. 
 
 Those women who are most loved by their own sex, 
 are precisely such as are most thought of by the other. 
 The railing of a cross woman, like the railing of a gar- 
 den, keeps people at a distance. A woman fascinates us 
 quite as often by what she overlooks as by what she 
 sees. If women knew their power and wished to exert 
 it, they would always show sweetness of temper, for then 
 they are irresistable. All women past seventy are divi- 
 ded into three classes — first, " that dear old soul," second, 
 " that old woman," third, u that old witch." Women can 
 easily preserve their youth ; for she who captivates the 
 heart and understanding never grows old. The lady 
 looks oldest who tries to conceal her age. If she refuses 
 to let her age be upon her tongue, it will be all the more 
 in her face. A lovely face is the more admired if good- 
 ness shines through it, just as the glorious sky is the 
 oftener gazed at because Heaven is there. A woman is 
 a great deal like a piece of ivy — the more you are ruined, 
 the closer she clings to you. Unraveling the cord of 
 man's existence, you will generally find the blackest hank 
 twined in it by a woman's hand ; but it is not less com- 
 mon to trace the golden thread to the same spindle. 
 The ladies should consider that to kiss the lips of a 
 swearer is a kind of profanity. Don't kiss a painted wo- 
 man; she is like painted fruit — only to be looked at, 
 not tasted. We read in a Sheffield paper, that " the last 
 polish to a piece of cutlery is given by the hand of woman. " 
 Apropos to this, it may be said of human cutlery, that, 
 " the last polish to a young blade is given by his mixing 
 with female society." A beautiful girl — beautiful in 
 youth, health and purity — who wakes from sleep at touch 
 of morning light, as the .flowers do, with a cheerful grace ; 
 
56 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 whose first tones, like those of the birds, are the most 
 musical of the day; from whose brow every trace of 
 yesterday's wear and last night's care is swept away, 
 even as the face of nature is renewed and brightened by 
 the summer dew — such a girl is worth the winning. 
 
 There is a period to the early life of every true woman 
 when moral and intellectual growth seems for a time to 
 cease — the vacant heart seeks for an occupant. The in- 
 tellect having to appropriate such aliment as was requi- 
 site to the growth of the uncrowned feminine nature, 
 feels the necessity of more intimate companionship with 
 the masculine mind to start it upon its second period of 
 development. Here, at this point, some stand for years 
 without ever making a step in advance. Others marry 
 and astonish, in a few brief years, by their sweet temper, 
 their new beauty, their high accomplishments, and their 
 noble womanhood, those whose blindness led them to 
 suppose that they were among the incurably heartless 
 and frivolous. 
 
 Cultivated women are as much an ornament and honor 
 to a city or State as cultivated men. France has as much 
 distinction from Madame de Stael as from the most bril- 
 liant of its philosophers. Fanny Burney, (Madme. 
 D'Arblay,) Mrs. Macauley, Agnes Strickland, and nu- 
 merous other females, shed the highest lustre on England. 
 The Irish boast of Miss Edgeworth, of the Porters, of 
 Lady Morgan, and of Lady Blessington, with spirit indic- 
 ative of the highest appreciation. Scotland, too, has 
 gained in honor through the education of more than one 
 of its u bonnie, bright-eyed lasses." Every country in 
 Europe has been benefited by talented women. So has 
 our own beloved America. 
 
 Says the traveler, Ledyard : " I have observed among 
 all nations that the women ornament themselves more 
 than the men ; that wherever found, they are the same 
 kind, civil, obliging, humane, tender beings ; that they 
 are ever inclined to be gay and cheerful, timorous and 
 modest. They do not hesitate, like a man, to perform 
 any hospitable or generous action ; not haughty or ar- 
 rogant, or supercilious, but full of courtesy, and fond of 
 
MAN AND WOMAN. 57 
 
 society, industrious, economical, ingenious, more liable, 
 in general to err than man, but in general also, more vir- 
 tuous, and performing more good actions than he." 
 
 The gentle tendrils of woman's heart sometimes twine 
 around a proud and sinful spirit like roses and honey- 
 suckles around a lightning-rod, clinging for support to 
 what brings down upon them the blasting thunderbolt. 
 It is said that a man frequently admits he was wrong, but 
 a woman, never — she was " only mistaken." 
 
 It is always easy to tell a true lady whenever or where 
 ever you meet her. Ten women shall get into an omni- 
 bus, and, though we never saw them before, we shall 
 select you the true lady. She does not titter when a 
 gentleman, handing up her fare, knocks off his hat, or 
 pitches it awry over his nose ; nor does she receive her 
 "change," after this (to him) inconvenient act of gallan- 
 try, in grim silence. She wears no flowered brocade to 
 be trodden under foot, nor ball-room jewelry, nor rose- 
 tinted gloves ; but the lace frill round her face is scrupu- 
 lously fresh, and the strings under her chin have evidently 
 been handled only by dainty fingers. She makes no 
 parade of a watch, if she wears one ; nor does she draw 
 off her dark neatly fitting glove to display ostentatious 
 rings. Still we notice, nestling in the straw beneath us, 
 such a trim little boot, not paper soled, but of an anti- 
 consumption thickness ; the bonnet upon her head is of 
 plain straw, simply trimmed, for your true lady never 
 wears a " dress hat " in an omnibus. She is quite as civil 
 to the poorest as to the richest person who sits beside her, 
 and equally regardful of their rights. If she attracts 
 attention, it is by the unconscious grace of her person 
 and manner, not by the ostentation of her dress. We 
 are quite sorry when she pulls the strap and disappears; 
 if we were a bachelor we should go home to our solitary 
 den, with a resolution to become abetter and a — married 
 man. 
 
 The aim of a real lady is always to be natural and un- 
 affected, and to wear her talents, her accomplishments, 
 and her learning, as well as the newest and finest dresses, 
 as if she did not know that she had them about her. No 
 
58 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 woman with a lady -like mind ever attempts to make what 
 is called a " splurge." Not that a desire for celebrity is 
 incompatible with the character of a gentlewoman ; but 
 a gentlewoman never confounds celebrity with notoriety ; 
 never deems it necessary to be rude and mannish in order 
 to gain a reputation for eccentricity. If gifted with 
 genius, she is content to shine without endeavoring to 
 coruscate. The term lady is often grossly misapplied. 
 It does not of necessity belong to position. It should 
 apply to the intellectual, the highly educated, the highly 
 placed among the sex, but there are some individuals of 
 this favored few for whom it would be a misnomer. We 
 meet with such persons occasionally in society, and read 
 of their " smart " sayings and unlady-like doings in the 
 newspapers. On the other hand, ladies are to be found 
 in log cabins, and in regions where there are no " finish- 
 ing academies;" for what sapient Dogberry said of read- 
 ing and writing, is true of genuine courtesy and polite- 
 ness. They " come by nature." A woman of gentle 
 and kindly disposition is intuitively well mannered. She 
 may be ignorant of the forms prescribed by etiquette, 
 but her heart is her "master of the ceremonies," and 
 therefore she is never bitter for the sake of being bril- 
 liant, nor harsh and abrupt when she should be consider- 
 ate and dignified. Giddy girls — ay, and some of the 
 sex who are old enough to know better — sometimes take 
 a miserable pride in defying public opinion. They think 
 it indicates a spirit of independence and self-reliance. 
 Boisterousness is a quality which does not " highly become 
 a woman," and yet we are sorry to say that it is occasion- 
 ally indulged in to a very disagreeable extent by ladies 
 moving in good society. As this allegation might be 
 deemed a slander on the sex unless supported by proof, 
 we will cite an example. A short time before Piccolom- 
 ini left New York we attended one of the matinees at 
 the Academy of Music. The majority of the audience 
 consisted of ladies; but had they been dressed in cassi- 
 mere and broadcloth we might have mistaken a good 
 many of them for rowdies. They shouted, screamed, 
 and hustled each other. Gentlemen are rarely so ungen- 
 
MAN AND WOMAN. 59 
 
 tlemanly, as some of the adorable gender were on that 
 occasion. Finally, a person connected with the opera 
 carne forward and announced to the ladies who were 
 making the disturbance, that unless they desisted, he 
 must call in the police ! This threat in a measure stilled 
 the tumult, but a few disorderlies in crinoline chose to 
 consider the rebuke an insult, and continued to talk in a 
 high tone throughout the performance, to the great an- 
 noyance of the quiet portion of the assemblage. The 
 sensationists of the sex may possibly think us ungallant 
 in thus referring to their peculiarities ; but if we could 
 only succeed in making them " see themselves as others 
 see them" they would join their gentler sisters in thank- 
 ing us for holding the mirror up, not to nature, but to 
 an affectation of eccentricity. 
 
 If a well-bred woman is surprised in careless costume, 
 she does not try to dodge behind the door to conceal 
 deficiencies. She remains calm and self-possessed, and 
 makes up in dignity what she may want in decoration. 
 In conversation, the words of a true lady are rather fit 
 than fine, very choice and yet not chosen. Though her 
 language be not gaudy, yet the plainness thereof pleaseth ; 
 it is so proper and handsomely put on. Some having a 
 set of fine phrases, will hazard an impertinency to use 
 them all, as thinking they give full satisfaction for drag- 
 ging in the matter by head and shoulders, if they dress 
 it in quaint expressions. Others often repeat the same 
 things ; the Platonic year of their discourses being not 
 above three days long, in which term all the same mat- 
 ter returns over again, thread-bare talk, ill suiting with 
 the variety of their clothes. There is one part of woman's 
 education often forgotten or neglected — the culture and 
 formation of a gentle voice. It is a great gift of nature, 
 to be aided by culture — an instrument of powerful influ- 
 ence for good. I speak not of singing hymns, now, and 
 the culture of harmony for musical purposes — though 
 these tend to God's praise, or to give innocent amuse- 
 ment; but this gentle voice will be able to guide and 
 persuade to good the manly heart of a faithful husband, 
 will mitigate sorrow, lessen trial, and speak of hope and 
 
60 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 joy to lier dearest friends and connections, in accents at 
 once powerful and pleasing. Let us then be careful in 
 our schools to cultivate this most valuable acquirement. 
 How different in all respects, to a family, for friends and 
 neighbors, are the kind, gentle, persuasive accents I have 
 described, from sounds we sometimes (alas too often) 
 hear in the close abodes of poverty and trial — high, harsh, 
 female treble tones of bitter import — scolding and re- 
 proaching, and driving away from the hearth and home 
 (perhaps to sorrow and sin) the husband and the child- 
 ren. Yes, we agree with that old poet who said that a 
 low soft voice was an excellent thing in woman. Indeed, 
 we feel inclined to go much further than he has on the 
 subject, and call it one of her crowning charms. How 
 often the spell of beauty is rudely broken by coarse, loud 
 talking ! How often you are irresistibly drawn to a plain, 
 unassuming woman, whose soft, silvery tones render her 
 positively attractive. In the social circle, how pleasant 
 it is to hear a woman talk in that low key which always 
 characterizes the true lady. In the sanctuary of home, 
 how such a voice soothes the dutiful child, and cheers 
 the weary husband ! 
 
 It was a graceful turn of speech in the gentleman who, 
 when remarking that " woman should keep her proper 
 sphere," was asked sharply by a lady — "what is her 
 proper sphere?" "Madam:" replied the gentleman — 
 it is a celestial sphere!" This, though, at first sight, a 
 mere compliment, is replete with truth. The sphere of 
 a true woman is indeed a celestial sphere, and she is an 
 angel if she properly adorns it. It is the peculiar province 
 of woman to inspire love ; and this love, to be lasting, 
 must build itself on esteem. Surely, if there be a hea- 
 ven, " as is our trust," it must be a sphere in which pure 
 love is the atmosphere; and if there be an object more 
 pleasant than another, or more fitted to inspire the purest 
 energies of woman, it must be the attainment of that 
 blessed station in which she shall be an angelic minis trant 
 in this, her native and peculiar sphere. The standard of 
 woman's excellence — her value in the social scale — is in 
 all civilized communities, fixed by herself. True, in re- 
 
MAN AND WOMAN. 61 
 
 mote ages, or among savage or barbaric nations, the 
 female has been degraded, and forced to occupy a posi- 
 tion more or less subservient ; but it is equally true that 
 examples of woman's higher attributes gleam brightly 
 even through these clouded periods of her destiny. 
 Semiramis, Zenubius, Cleopatra, Judith, Jael, Jezebel, 
 and the lovelier characters of Ruth and Abigail, present 
 themselves the more vividly because they are isolated 
 proofs of the power of woman to individualize herself, 
 even in the immensity of history. u By what charm 
 canst thou control thy husband thus?" was asked of the 
 spouse of Scipio, if we remember rightly. "I rule by 
 obeying!" replied Cornelia. Audit was this noble Ro- 
 man matron who, impatient of being known as the "wife 
 of Scipio," exclaimed to her sons — "when shall I be 
 called the mother of the Grachii?" Posterity answered 
 that question, and posterity shows likewise ; the name of 
 a Mary the mother of Washington. Say not, then, that 
 woman hath not her reward. Let her be true to her 
 sphere, exalting hy her influence the sons and husbands 
 and fathers of the nation, and to the latest epoch of time, 
 " her children will rise up and call her blessed." 
 
 Says that admirably pure writer, T. S. Arthur: "For 
 myself, I am sure that a different mother would have 
 made me a different man. When a boy I was too much 
 like the self-willed, excitable C — ; but the tenderness 
 with which my mother always treated me, and the unim- 
 passioned but earnest manner in which she reproved and 
 corrected my faults, subdued my unruly temper. When 
 I became restless or impatient, she always had a book to read 
 to me, or a story to tell, or had some device to save me from 
 myself. My father was neither harsh nor indulgent to- 
 wards me ; I cherish his memory with respect and love. 
 But I have different feelings when I think of my mother, 
 I often feel, even now, as if she were near me — as if her 
 cheek were laid to mine. My father would place his 
 hand upon my head, caressingly, but my mother would 
 lay her cheek against mine. I did not expect my father 
 to do more ; for him it was a natural expression of affec- 
 tion. Her kiss upon my cheek, her warm embrace, are 
 
62 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 all felt now, and the older I grow, the more holy seem 
 the influences that surrounded me in childhood." 
 
 All honor to woman! Without her smiles the world 
 would lose its brightness— society's charm would exist 
 no longer. Christianity would languish without her aid. 
 " In whose principles," said the dying daughter of Ethan 
 Allen to her sceptical father — a in whose principles shall 
 I die — yours or my Christian mother's?" The stern old 
 hero of Ticonderoga brushed away a tear from his eye as 
 he turned away and with the same rough voice which 
 summoned the British to surrender, now tremulous with 
 deep emotion, said — " in your Christian mother's, child, 
 in your mother's." Sacred to the heart is the memory 
 of a mother's love. 
 
 It has often been truly remarked that in sickness there 
 is no hand like a woman's hand — no heart like a woman's 
 heart — no eye so untiring — no hope so fervent. Woman 
 by a sick man's couch is divinity impersonated. If there 
 be a situation wherein woman may be deemed to appro- 
 priate angelic attributes, it is when she ministers, as only 
 woman can, to the wants and weakness of the invalid ! 
 Whose hand like hers can smooth his pillow ? Whose 
 voice so effectually silences the querulousness of his tem- 
 per ? Proffered by her, the viand hath an added zest, 
 and even the nauseous medicament is divested of its 
 loathsomeness. 
 
 To certain women there is an inexpressible fascination 
 in this dalliance with danger — the compromise between 
 love and coquetry. It is their one excitement, and it i£ 
 worth to them all the thousand others that serve to re- 
 lieve, or more often to distract, the dullness of their lords 
 and masters. They are content to be whirled out of 
 their own thoughts in that pleasing vortex. Its edifying 
 rapidity is so delightful — its attraction so gently power- 
 ful — its surface, up to the very edge, so smooth and glassy ; 
 all is charming until the last fatal plunge itself, when the 
 abyss is opened to its victim and then closes upon her 
 forever. Without constancy there is neither love, friend- 
 ship or virtue. All the influence which women enjoy 
 in society — their right to the exercise of that maternal 
 
MAN AND WOMAN. 63 
 
 care which forms the first and most indelible species of 
 education ; the wholesome restraint which they possess 
 over the passions of mankind ; their power of protecting 
 us when young, and cheering us when old, depend so 
 entirely upon their personal purity, and the charm which 
 it casts around them, that to insinuate a doubt of its real 
 value is willfully to remove the broadest corner stone on 
 which civil society rests, with all its benefits and all its 
 comforts. But let a woman err, and she is driven, like 
 Eve, from the social paradise. If even the breath of 
 suspicion blow upon her vestal robe, it is soiled. If she 
 lapse but once from the path of virtue, she "falls like 
 Lucifer." No penitence, however protracted, can replace 
 her on the pedestal from which she fell. No tears can 
 wash away the stain upon her fair name. You might as 
 well attempt to reconstruct a broken vase or to restore 
 the tints and fragrance of a faded flower. 
 
 " The white snow lay 
 
 On the narrow pathway 
 Where the lord of the valley crossed over the moor, 
 
 And many a deep piint 
 
 In the white snow's tint 
 Showed the track of his footsteps to Eveleen's door. 
 
 The next sun's ray, 
 
 Soon melted away 
 Every trace on the path where the false lord came ! 
 
 But none shall see the day, 
 
 When the stain shall pass away — 
 The stain upon the snow of fair Eveleen's fame. 
 
 Man may err, and be forgiven ; but poor woman, with 
 all his temptation, and but half his stiength, is placed 
 beyond the hope of earthly salvation, if she but once be 
 tempted on to crime. 
 
 Pleasure is to women, what the sun is to the flower ; 
 if moderately enjoyed, it beautifies, it refreshes, and it 
 improves ; if immoderately, it withers, etiolates, and 
 destroys. But the duties of domestic life, exercised as 
 they must be in retirement, and calling forth all the sen- 
 sibilities of the female, are, perhaps, as necessary to the 
 full development of her charms, as the shade and the 
 shower are to the rose, confirming its beauty, and increas- 
 ing its fragrance. The utmost of a woman's character 
 is contained in domestic life ; first, in her piety towards 
 
64 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 God ; and next, in the duties of a daughter, a wife a 
 mother, and a sister. 
 
 When the Emperor Conrade, besieged G-uelpho, Duke 
 of Bavaria, he would not accept of any other conditions 
 than that the men should be prisoners ; but that the wo- 
 men might go out of the town without violation of their 
 honor, on foot, and with so much only as they could carry 
 about them, which was no sooner known, than they con- 
 trived to carry out upon their shoulders, their husbands 
 and children, and even the Duke himself. The Emper- 
 or was so affected with the generosity of the action, that 
 he treated the Duke and his people ever after, with great 
 humanity. 
 
 In all the characters of excellent women, there is not 
 a more illustrious instance of filial piety than the story 
 of Cimomus, who, being cast into prison, and there ad 
 judged to be starved to death, his daughter Xantippe fed 
 him through the iron grate with the milk of her own 
 breasts. When Columbus braved the perils of unknown 
 seas to add America to the world, it was the white hand 
 of a woman that fitted him for his venturesome voyage 
 of discovery. So woman equips man every day for the 
 voyage of life. Woman, as man's helper, rises to her 
 " peculiar and best altitude." He represents the intellect 
 — she the mind-governing heart. Power appertains to 
 him ; but influence, more subtle and penetrating than 
 power, in its most delicate and all-pervading form, belongs 
 to her. A man discovered America, but a woman 
 equipped the voyage. So everywhere ; man executes the 
 performances, but woman trains the man. Every effec- 
 tual person, leaving his mark on the world, is but another 
 Columbus, for whose furnishing some Isabella, in the 
 form of his mother, lays down her jewelry, her vanities, 
 her comforts. 
 
CHILDHOOD. 65 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 It is pleasant to see an innocent child, just budding 
 into life — just beginning to lisp the words of its mother's 
 tongue. With no care upon its brow, free from art and 
 guile, without deceit, it but lisps the feelings of con- 
 scious innocence. There is a beautiful mystery about 
 infancy and childhood. It is natural for us to gaze upon 
 a gentle child with feelings of love, and something of 
 reverence and wonder. I delight in little children; I 
 could spend hours in watching them. How much there 
 is in them that the Saviour loved, when he took a little 
 child and set him in the midst. Their simplicity, their 
 confidence in you, the fund of happiness with which their 
 beneficent Creator has endowed them, that when intelli- 
 gence is less developed, and so affords less enjoyment, 
 the natural spirits are an inexhaustible fund of infantile 
 pleasure. Call not that man poor or wretched who, 
 whatever ills he suffers, has a child to love. 
 
 A house full of children composes as powerful a group 
 of motives as ever moved a heart or hand, and the secret 
 of many a struggle and triumph in the world's battle may 
 be found throned in its mother's lap at home. A nation's 
 hope, before now, has been found in a basket of bulrush- 
 es. Be afraid of the man that children are afraid of, 
 and be sure that he who hates them is not himself worth 
 loving. 
 
 Woe to him who smiles not over a cradle, and weeps 
 not over a tomb. He who has never tried the compan- 
 ionship of a little child, has carelessly passed by one 
 of the greatest pleasures of life, as one passes a rare 
 flower without plucking it or knowing its value. 
 The gleeful laugh of happy children is the best home 
 music, and the graceful figures of childhood are the best 
 statuary. We are all kings and queens in the cradle, and 
 each babe is a new marvel, a new miracle. The perfec- 
 tion of the providence for childhood is easily acknowl- 
 edged. The care which covers the seed of the tree 
 under tough husks, and stony cases provides for the human 
 
 5 
 
66 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 plant, the mother's breast and the father's house. The 
 size of the nestleris comic, and its tiny, beseeching weak- 
 ness is compensated perfectly by the one happy, patron- 
 izing look of the mother, who is a sort of high-reposing 
 Providence to it. Welcome to the parents the puny 
 struggler, strong in his weakness, his little arms more 
 irresistible than the soldiers, his lips touched with per- 
 suasion which Chatham and Pericles in manhood had not. 
 His unaffected lamentations when he lifts up his voice on 
 high; or, more beautiful, the sobbing child — the face all 
 liquid grief, as he tries to swallow his vexation — soften 
 all hearts to pity, and to mirthful and clamorous compas- 
 sion. The small despot asks so little that all reason and 
 all nature are on his side. His ignorance is more charm- 
 ing than all knowledge, and his little sins more bewitching 
 than any virtue. His flesh is angel's flesh, all alive. 
 " Infancy," said Coleridge, "presents body and spirit in 
 unity ; the body is all animated." All day, between his 
 three or four sleeps, he coos like a pigeon house, sputters 
 and spurs, and puts on his faces of importance, and when 
 he fasts, the little Pharisee fails not to sound his trumpet 
 before him. By lamplight, he delights in shadows on the 
 wall ; by daylight, in yellow and scarlet. Carry him out 
 of doors — he is overpowered by the light and by the 
 extent of natural objects, and is silent. Then presently 
 begins his use of his fingers, and he studies power — the 
 lesson of his race. First it appears in no great harm, in 
 architectural tastes. Out of blocks, thread spools, cards 
 and checkers, he will build his pyramid with the gravity 
 of Palladio. With an acoustic apparatus of whistle and 
 rattle, he explores the laws of sound. But chiefly, like 
 his senior countrymen, the young American studies new 
 and speedier modes of transportation. Mistrusting the 
 cunning of his small legs, he wishes to ride on the necks 
 and shoulders of all flesh. The small enchanter nothing 
 can withstand — no seniority of age, no gravity of char- 
 acter; uncles, aunts, grandsires, grandams, fall an easy 
 prey ; he conforms to nobody, all conform to him ; all 
 caper and make mouths, and baddle and chirrup to him. 
 On the strongest shoulders he rides, and pulls the hair of 
 laurelled heads. 
 
CHILDHOOD. 67 
 
 The child is the mirror of the adult. Men learn their 
 own nature by watching the development of children. 
 We deem children the poetry of the world — the fresh 
 flowers of our hearts and homes ; little conjurors, with 
 their "natural magic," evoking by their spells what de- 
 lights and enriches all ranks, and equalizes the different 
 classes of society. Often as they bring with them anx- 
 ieties and cares, and live to occasion sorrow and grief, 
 we should get on very badly without them. Only think, 
 if there was never anything anywhere to be seen but 
 great grown-up men and women, how we should long for 
 a sight of a little child! Every infant comes into the 
 world like a degenerated prophet, the harbinger and 
 herald of good tidings, whose office it is to turn " the 
 hearts of the fathers to the children," and to draw " the 
 disobedient to the wisdom of the just." A child softens 
 and purifies the heart, warming and melting it by its 
 gentle presence ; it enriches the soul with new feelings, 
 and awakens within it what is favorable to virtue. It is 
 a beam of light, a fountain of love, a teacher whose les- 
 sons few can resist. Infants recall us from much that 
 engenders and encourages selfishness, that freezes the 
 affections, roughens the manners and indurates the heart ; 
 they brighten the home, deepen love, invigorate exer- 
 tion, infuse courage, and vivify and sustain the charities 
 of life. 
 
 Christ, in blessing the little ones of Judea, blessed all 
 children, and meant that we should reverence them as 
 the hope of the world. How, when life grows dark be- 
 fore us — when its woes oppress, and its crime appeals, 
 we turn instinctively to little children, with their brave 
 sunny faces of faith and good cheer — their eyes of un- 
 conscious prophecy, and drink from the full fountain of 
 their fresh young natures, courage and comfort, and deep 
 draughts of divine love and constancy ! How a child's 
 sweet smile falls like oil on the waters of thought, vexed 
 by worldly care, and smoothes them into peace! As 
 the infant begins to discriminate between the objects 
 around, it soon discovers one countenance that ever smiles 
 upon it with peculiar benignity. When it wakes from 
 
68 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 its sleep, there is a watchful form ever bent over its cra- 
 dle. If startled by some unhappy dream, a guardian 
 augel seems ever ready to soothe its fears. If cold, that 
 ministering spirit brings it warmth ; if hungry, she feeds 
 it ; if in pain, she relieves it ; if happy she caresses it. 
 In joy or sorrow, in weal or woe, she is the first object of 
 its thoughts. Her presence is its heaven. The mother 
 is the deity of infancy. 
 
 A babe is a mother's anchor. She cannot go far from 
 her moorings. And yet a true mother never lives so 
 little in the present as when by the side of the cradle. 
 Her thoughts follow the imagined future of her child. 
 That babe is the boldest of pilots, and guides her fear- 
 less thoughts down through scenes of coming years. The 
 old ark never made such a voyage as the cradle daily 
 makes. Maternity is the perfecting, not only of woman- 
 hood, but humanity. And to the first baby, has Goq 
 given the sacred power to complete the circle of human 
 sympathies, to waken the conscious soliditary of human 
 interests. Every mother that is a mother, pictures the 
 whole troop of loves, joys, and sorrows hovering around 
 u the first baby." She lays every mother's baby in the 
 cradle which held her own first baby, and listens to the 
 songs that gush forth, or as they are softly murmured in 
 the mother-heart. To a mother's heart, every mother's 
 baby is the representative of inestimable treasure ; it is 
 an estate held in u fee simple;" a little sub-soiler that 
 leaves no affections fallow, no sympathies isolated from 
 the claims of a common humanity. The first baby! — 
 why, it brings treasure with it ! True its little hand is 
 empty ; but then it brings to light and activity unrevealed 
 capacities, looses the sealed fountains, and assays the un- 
 wrought treasure of the human soul. It is not all]oj — 
 that baby gift; — if it were it could not be a joy forever. 
 It is not all sorrow ; if it were, the fountains of the heart 
 it stirs, could not grow pure to reflect the heaven above ; 
 would not flow down the stream of time, bearing rich 
 freight for unknown and unborn posterity. But see, it 
 lays its tiny hand on the heart, and it forgets to beat for 
 self It pillows its soft cheek on the bosom that, hither- 
 
CHILDHOOD. 69 
 
 to, had looked out upon the struggling world — all un- 
 linked to its wants, all unmoved by its destiny — and 
 henceforth that bosom is the asylum of the orphan, the 
 refuge of the oppressed, the sanctuary which invites a 
 world lying in wretchedness to the banquet of love, to 
 the smiles of a common Father. And why ? — Ah, that 
 baby is the medium through which the helplessness, the 
 wants and the promise of humanity have appealed to 
 the woman. In behalf of the race, it has whispered 
 mother! and looking into its trusting, worshipping eyes, 
 she accepts the consecration, answers the appeal with a 
 deep, an eternity echoed — my child. 
 
 Not without design has God implanted in the mater- 
 nal breast that strong love of their children which is felt 
 everywhere. This lays deep and broad the foundation 
 for the child's future education from parental hands. Nor 
 without designs has Christ commanded, " Feed my 
 lambs," — meaning to inculcate upon his Church the duty 
 of caring for the children of the Church and the world 
 at the earliest possible period. Nor can parents and all 
 well-wishers to humanity be too earnest and careful to 
 fulfill the promptings of their very nature and the com- 
 mand of Christ in this matter. Influence is as quiet and 
 imperceptible on the child's mind as the falling of snow 
 flakes on the meadow. One cannot tell the hour when 
 the human mind is not in the condition of receiving im- 
 pressions from exterior moral forces. In innumerable 
 instances, the most secret and unnoticed influences have 
 been in operation for months and even years to break 
 down the strongest barriers of the human heart, and 
 work out its moral ruin, while yet the fondest parents 
 and friends have been unaware of the working of such 
 unseen agents of evil. Not all at once does any heart 
 become utterly bad. The error is in this: that parents 
 are not conscious how early the seeds of vice are sown 
 and take root. It is as the Gospel declares, " While men 
 slept, the enemy came and sowed tares, and went his 
 way." If this then is the error, how shall it be corrected, 
 and what is the antidote to be applied ! Why this — if 
 we have " slept " over the early susceptibility of child- 
 
70 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 ren's minds to the formation of character, we must wake 
 up from our sleep, and acknowledge our error. And the 
 antidote and remedy is simple and plain — we must pre- 
 occupy the soil ; sow in the soil of these minds and hearts 
 the seeds of knowledge and virtue, before the enemy 
 shall sow there the tares of vice and crime. This is the 
 true doctrine of our duty to the children around our 
 tables and in our streets. Up, then, ye workers, and sow 
 your seed in the morn of childhood. Withhold not the 
 hand from earnest culture and honest toil. No labor 
 here shall be in vain. 
 
 Childhood is like a mirror, catching and reflecting 
 images all around it. Remember, that an impious or 
 profane thought uttered by the parent's lips, may operate 
 on the young heart like a careless spray of water thrown 
 upon polished steel, staining it with rust, which no after- 
 scouring can effiace. 
 
 Grown persons are apt to put a lower estimate than is 
 just, on the understanding of children. They rate them 
 by what they know ; and children know very little ; but 
 their comprehension is great. Hence the continual won- 
 der of those who are unaccustomed to them, at the old 
 fashioned ways of some lone little one, who has no play- 
 fellows — and at the odd mixture of the folly and wisdom 
 in its sayings. A continual battle goes on in the child's 
 mind, between what it knows and what it comprehends. 
 Its answers are foolish from partial ignorance ; and wise 
 from extreme quickness of apprehension. The great art 
 of education is so to train this last faculty as neither to 
 depress nor over-exert it. The matured mediocrity of 
 many an infant prodigy proves both the degree of ex- 
 pansion in which it is possible to force a child's intellect, 
 and the boundary which nature has set to the success of 
 such false culture. 
 
 A majority of character, throughout civilized society T 
 gets its mood and bent from home influences. Educa- 
 tion, it has been well said, forms the common mind, and 
 home influences are the most impressive common educa 
 tors. Good or bad, their potency is the same. What, 
 else can reasonably be so authoritative to the mind of a 
 
M@W D Ih^f ME iiWM T@ SLEEP. 
 
CHILDHOOD. 71 
 
 child as the teachings and examples of parents — parents 
 universally regarded by their children as supreme in 
 judgment and power. And this being the case, how 
 careful should parents and guardians be, that all their 
 teachings and examples are on the side of virtue. How 
 frequently the parent is called to reprove in the child, a 
 passion or practice caught from that parent's example. 
 We have known a father, habitually profane, to punish 
 a son for swearing. We have known a mother of un- 
 governed temper, to punish a daughter for an imitative 
 tithe of her own faults. This is inconsistent and unjust, 
 and children soon see it thus — and so to the bad influ- 
 ence of bad example, is added the worse influence of 
 injustice. But besides virtuous teachings and examples, 
 there are other means of happy influences accessible to 
 most homes. Chief among these are flowers, books and 
 newspapers, pictures, music and cheerful social games. 
 By a proper use of these, childhood may not only gain 
 knowledge and refinement with the most positive pleasure, 
 and they will serve not only as a guard, but as the best 
 and surest guard against temptation to less innocent en- 
 joyments. What home — even the rudest cabin- — so poor 
 but flowers may be cultivated therein ? How few are the 
 American homes where books and newspapers may not 
 be had. And pictures with their endless charm for 
 children, the illustrated papers and cheap engravings 
 will furnish them for a trifle. As for music, few are the 
 children whom God has not gifted to make it, with but 
 little study. Of social games, it needs but the will to 
 have them in abundance. It is not so much the fault of 
 children — ever restless, curious and aspiring — that they 
 are impatient of the meagre surroundings of their homes. 
 They will tire even of sunshine, daisies and butterflies ; 
 tire of all lovable and healthful out-of-door pastimes, and 
 not long can they be kept cheerful and happy within 
 doors, except there be a diversity of pleasant occupations 
 there. And as the occupations, so will be the influences. 
 Yet though, as Wordsworth says, " the child is father of 
 the man," and " as the twig is bent the tree's inclined," 
 how many parents rid themselves of their children's im- 
 
72 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 patience by turning them away to do as they please, 
 rather than take the trouble — which ought to be a 
 pleasure — to provide them agreeable occupation. Alas ! 
 in after years too many such parents will have cause to 
 regret that, first of all, they did not attend to that first 
 and greatest of parental duties, the surrounding of their 
 children with pleasant, controlling home influences. 
 
 Make room for children. Room and freedom for them 
 at home, that they may expand and strengthen those 
 faculties and functions which are soon to constitute the 
 man-and-womanhood of a generation. Room for them 
 in the nursery and on the play-ground, with opportunity 
 and freedom to exercise, if you would have them hearty, 
 cheerful, and home-loving. Too much, in the main, are 
 children burrowed and quashed at home, where they 
 should be encouraged to gambol and rejoice — at home, 
 where their voices should ring out merry as the voices oi 
 summer birds. Room for the children at school. At 
 school, where they are too often imprisoned, stifled, and 
 dwarfed in body and mind. Room and freedom for the 
 children at school, that they may breathe fresh air, and 
 commune with their teachers, not as masters — stern, un- 
 bending, and unsympathising — but as intellectual guides 
 and social friends. Room for the children at church, too, 
 and see that they are attracted — as they can be — thither, 
 and not driven with the "rod of correction," or the 
 chilling rebuke. More room, greater care for, and a 
 higher common estimate of children, if you would stim- 
 ulate their ambition to win your regard. Children are 
 generally older, more observing, and more capable than 
 they seem. The less you ignore them, the less will they 
 ignore you. The more you cultivate them, the more will 
 they cultivate you. Give them no room, teach them to 
 think you believe them nobodies, and ten to one they 
 will strive to justify such a belief. Room for the children, 
 God's holiest and tenderest blessing — the light of our 
 homes and the delight of our hearts. Room for them 
 everywhere, and not least in the public place, the public 
 conveyance, at the public table. Tuck them not in a 
 corner, crowd them not to the wall, leave them not for- 
 
CHILDHOOD. 73 
 
 ever to the second course and the fragments of the feast, 
 unless you would have them grow up thoughtless of jus- 
 tice and selfish as yourselves, to practice, in turn upon 
 their children as you practice upon them. Do unto child- 
 ren, always, even as ye, when ye were children, would 
 have been done by. Thus, reader, shall you enlarge and 
 soften many an intellect and heart ; thus prevent many a 
 home being made sad and desolate by domestic bitterness. 
 Everybody's rights seem to be recognised and talked 
 about but the children's ; and yet we venture to say that 
 those of none are infringed upon more than theirs. We 
 who are not so far removed from childhood, either in 
 accumulation of years or lack of sympathy, can remem- 
 ber how many childish grievances we had — how dreadful 
 they seemed to us then, and of how little importance 
 the rules sometimes have seemed since we looked back 
 with older eyes. It is well to look at these things in 
 our dealings with our children, who are governed and 
 scolded and found fault with far too much. Dr. Hail, in 
 his excellent work of " Health by Good Living," gives 
 parents a good piece of advice in telling them to let the 
 children alone when they gather around the family table. 
 It is a cruelty to hamper them with manifold rules and 
 regulations about this, and that, and the other. As long 
 as their conduct is harmless as to others, encourage them 
 in their cheeriness. Suppose a child does not sit as 
 straight as a ramrod at the the table ; suppose a cup or 
 tumbler slips through his little fingers and deluges the 
 plate of food below, and the goblet is smashed, and the 
 table-cloth is ruined ; do not look a thousand scowls and 
 thunders, and scare the poor thing to the balance of its 
 death, for it was scared half to death before ; it . " did not 
 go to do it." Did you never let a glass slip through 
 your fingers since you were grown ? Instead of sending 
 the child away from the table in anger, if not even with 
 a threat for this or any other little nothing, be as gener- 
 ous as you would to an equal or superior guest, to whom 
 you would, with a more or less obsequious smile, "it is 
 of no possible consequence." That would be the form 
 of expression even to a stranger guest, and yet to your 
 
74 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 own child you remorselessly, and revengefully, and angrily 
 mete out a swift punishment, which for the time almost 
 breaks its little heart, and belittles you amazingly. The 
 proper and more enlightened mode of dealing out re; 
 proof to the child, when it seems necessary, is to take no 
 notice of mishaps or bad behavior at the time, or to go 
 further, and divert attention from them at the very in- 
 stant, if possible, or to make a kind apology for them ; 
 but afterwards, in an hour or two, or better still, next 
 day, draw the child's attention to the fault, if fault it is, 
 in a friendly and loving manner ; point out the impro- 
 priety in some kindly way ; show where it was wrong or 
 rude, and appeal to the child's self-respect or manliness. 
 This is the best way to correct all family errors. Some- 
 times it may not succeed ; sometimes harsh measures may 
 be required; but try the deprecating or the kindly 
 method with equanimity of mind, and failure will be of 
 rare occurrence. Never mar home life by cross words 
 or peevishness. Drive all such clouds away, and dwell 
 only in sunshine. 
 
 This world is full of rough places, and its jagged fea- 
 tures are as frequently seen in the faces around us, as in 
 its rocks and caverns. The father, stern and unyielding, 
 drives sunshine from the house, or the mother, full of res- 
 ponsibility, cuffs the children into corners, and has order 
 and neatness at the expense of their liberty and happi- 
 ness. Perhaps a youth of seventeen, presumes to govern, 
 and ma and children must keep still. The novel-reading 
 young lady becomes horribly nervous if the little ones 
 touch the sofa on which she reclines. The girl in the 
 kitchen frowns them out of her presence, or scolds them, 
 without shame. Poor little things ! how much they seem 
 to be in the way. One moment petted and carried in 
 our bosoms, the next cuffed and abused as if the cause 
 of all our trials. A disagreement between parents is 
 frequently revenged upon the children, and every care- 
 less act is laid to their charge. A lost spoon, a broken 
 china, a misplaced book, is referred to them, and before 
 they can command language to defend themselves, they 
 take it for granted that pa, ma, big brother and sister 
 
CHILDHOOD. 75 
 
 must be right and they wrong. Where is the wisdom 
 in saying to a child, be a man ? If the mind be curbed 
 and humbled too much in children — if their spirits be 
 abased and broken by too strict a hand over them — they 
 lose all their vigor and industry. 
 
 "I wish father would come home." The voice that 
 said this had a troubled tone, and the face that looked 
 up was sad. "Your father will be very angry," said an 
 aunt, who was sitting in the room with a book in her 
 hand. The boy raised himself from the sofa, where he 
 had been lying in tears for half an hour, and with a touch 
 of indignation in his voice, answered — "He'll be sorry, 
 not angry. Father never gets angry." For a few mo- 
 ments the aunt looked at the boy half curiously, and let 
 her eyes fall again on the book in her hand. The boy 
 laid himself down on the sofa again, and hid his face from 
 sight. "That's father, now!" He had started up after 
 the lapse of nearly ten minutes, as the sound of a bell 
 reached his ear, and went to the room door. He stood 
 there for a little while and then came slowly back, saying 
 with a disappointed air: "It isn't father. I wonder what 
 keeps him so late? Oh, I wish he would come." "You 
 seem anxious to get deeper into trouble," remarked the 
 aunt, who had only been in the house for a week, and 
 was not very amiable nor very sympathising toward 
 children. The boy's fault had provoked her, and she 
 considered him a fit subject for punishment. "I believe, 
 aunt Phoebe, that you would like to see me whipped," 
 said the boy, a little warmly, "but you won't." "I must 
 confess," replied aunt Phoebe, "that I think a little whole- 
 some discipline of the kind you speak of would not be 
 out of place. If you were my child, I am very sure you 
 wouldn't escape." "I am not your child. I do not 
 want to be. Father is good and loves me. " ' c If your father 
 is so good and loves you so well, you must be very un- 
 grateful or a very inconsiderate boy. His goodness don't 
 seem to have helped you much." "Hush, will you!" 
 ejaculated the boy, excited to anger by this unkindness 
 of speech. 
 
 "Phoebe !" It was the boy's mother who spoke now for 
 
76 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 the first time. In an undertone adding, "you are wrong. 
 Richard is suffering quite enough, and you are doing him 
 harm rather than good." Again the bell rang, and again 
 the boy left the sofa and went to the sitting room door. 
 "It's father !" and he went gliding down stairs. " Ah, 
 Richard!" was the kindly greeting, as Mr. Gordon took 
 the hand of his boy. " But what is the matter, my son ? 
 You don't look happy." "Won't you come in here?" 
 And Richard drew his father into the library. Mr. Gor- 
 don sat down, still holding Richard.'s hand. "You are in 
 trouble my son. What has happened ?" The eyes of 
 Richard filled with tears as he looked into his father's 
 face. He tried to answer, but his lips quivered. Then 
 he turned away, and opening the door to the cabinet, 
 brought the fragments of broken statue, which had been 
 sent home only the day before, and set them on the table 
 before his father, over whose countenance came instantly 
 a shadow of regret. "Who did this, my son ?" was asked 
 in an even voice. "I did." "How?" "I threw my ball in 
 there once — only once in forgetfulness. " The poor boy's 
 tones were husky and tremulous. A little while Mr. 
 Gordon sat controlling himself and collecting his disturbed 
 thoughts, then he said cheerfully, " What is done, 
 Richard, can't be helped. Put the broken pieces away. 
 You have had trouble enough about it, I can see — and 
 reproof for your thoughtlessness — so I will not add a 
 word to increase your pain." "Father!" And the boy 
 threw his arms about his father's neck. "You are so kind, 
 so good!" Five minutes later, and Richard entered the 
 sitting room with his father. Aunt Phoebe looked up 
 for two shadowed faces, but she did not see them. She 
 was puzzled. "That was very unfortunate," she said a 
 little while after Mr. Gordon came in. "It is hopelessly 
 ruined." Richard was leaning against his father when 
 his aunt said this. Mr. Gordon only smiled and threw 
 his arms around his boy. Mrs. Gordon threw upon her 
 a look of warning, but it was unheeded. "I think Richard 
 was a very naughty boy." " We have settled that Phoe- 
 be," was the mild and firm answer of Mr. Gordon; "and 
 it is one of our rules to get into the sunshine as soon as 
 
CHILDHOOD. 77" 
 
 possible." Phoebe was rebuked; and Richard looked 
 grateful, and it may be a little triumphant, for his aunt 
 had borne down upon him rather hard for a boy's patience 
 to endure. In the sunshine as quickly as possible! Oh, 
 is it not the better philosophy ? It is selfishness that 
 grows angry and rebels, because a fault has been com- 
 mitted. Let us get the offender into the sunshine as 
 quickly as possible, so that true thought and right feel- 
 ings may grow vigorous in its warmth. We retain anger, 
 not that anger may act as a wholesome discipline, but 
 because we are unwilling to forgive. Ah, if we were 
 always right ourselves, we would oftener be right with 
 our children. 
 
 I thought I knew before that grown up people should 
 regard the rights of their children, and be careful not to 
 destroy any of their precious little possessions, said a 
 good mother recently, but it seemed that I needed a 
 little bitter experience to make me know it thoroughly. 
 In cleaning up the room I gathered up some torn pieces 
 of newspaper, and with them a leaf from an old blank 
 book scrawled over with the curious hieroglyphics my 
 little boy delights in. I crushed them all up together, 
 and stuffed them in the stove, with a sudden fear, as the 
 flames devoured them, that the child might miss his 
 drawings. But he made so many such scrawls, I hardly 
 could see why he should wish to preserve any of them. 
 After breakfast I heard him saying: "I wonder where 
 that paper is that I marked on last night. I wish I could 
 find it. Don't you know, mamma, that piece of count 
 book I made machinery on when you lay on the lounge ? 
 Where do you suppose it is?" "Can't you make another 
 one like it?" I asked. "I can't remember just how that 
 was," he said; "and it had my dendal cars on it. I want 
 tliat. I must find it!" And he emptied his box of play- 
 things and tools upon the floor, to make sure whether it 
 was among his books and papers or not. I had not the 
 courage to tell him that it was gone past all recovery, 
 and by the cruel thoughtlessness of his own mamma. At 
 last he concluded to try again on a fresh leaf of the old 
 account book. Presently he came to me, saying : "Oh! 
 
78 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 I do want that piece I had last night so nmch ! Can't 
 you find it for .me ?" Suddenly I found grace to say : 
 u My little boy, I am afraid that is what mamma burned 
 up this morning with some torn newspaper." u Oh! I 
 can't live!" he burst out, "I want it so very much!" For 
 a minute or two I suppose his loss was quite as severe 
 for him to bear as was Carlyle's for his man's heart, when 
 he first discovered that his maid-servant had kindled the 
 fire with the precious manuscript of the "French Revo- 
 lution," on which he had labored so long. My boy saw 
 that I was sorry, and he soon became reconciled to 
 a loss for which there was no remedy. It is one of 
 the greatest wrongs little children have to bear — the 
 failure of grown-up people, who should be their guar- 
 dians and helpers, to appreciate their feelings and aims. 
 We expect the little ones to understand us, and try to 
 conform to our standards, but we lose many beautiful les- 
 sons in not trying to enter into their spirit and plans — 
 matching the outreaching of their growing faculties with 
 wise and gentle guiding, so that all their happy play shall 
 really be a useful education. My mother told me how 
 she learned to enter into a child's feelings and bear with 
 its "litter." Her first-born son — a child always, to her 
 heart, because the angels took him so early — had got 
 possession of an old jackknife. She had just swept her 
 carpets, and put the room to "rights, "when she discovered 
 Henry with a pine stick and his knife, making little chips 
 all over on the bright clean carpet. "Oh, Henry!" she 
 said, "you have littered my clean carpet. See how bad 
 those little chips look on the floor!" With wondering 
 gravity, he gazed at the dear little chips he had been so 
 proud to be able to scatter, then lifting his frank, inno- 
 cent eyes, he said earnestly: "They look pitty tome/" 
 Instantly the whole scene was beautiful to my mother, 
 little chips and all ; and she carries the sweet picture with 
 her ever since, and all the little children love her the 
 better for it without knowing why. 
 
 The shadows of the mind are like those of the body. 
 In the morning of life they are all behind us; at noon 
 we trample them under foot, and in the evening they 
 
CHILDHOOD. 79 
 
 stretch long, broad and deepening before us. Are not, 
 then, the sorrows of childhood as dark as those of age? 
 Are not the morning shadows of life as deep and broad 
 as those of its evening ? Yes, but morning shadows 
 soon fade away, while those of evening reach forward 
 into night. 
 
 They will not trouble you long. Children grow up — 
 nothing on earth grows so fast as children. It was but 
 yesterday, and that lad was playing with tops, a buoyant 
 boy. He is a man, and gone now ! There is no more 
 childhood for him or for us. Life has claimed him. When 
 a beginning is made, it is like a raveling stocking ; stitch 
 by stitch gives way till all are gone. The house has not 
 a child in it — there is no more noise in the hall — boys 
 rushing in pell-mell ; it is very orderly now. There are 
 no more skates or sleds, bats, balls or strings left scattered 
 about. Things are neat enough now. There is no delay 
 for sleepy folks ; there is no longer any task, before you 
 lie down, of looking after anybody, and tucking up the 
 bedclothes. There are no disputes to settle, nobody to 
 get off to school, no complaint, no importunities for im- 
 possible things, no rips to mend, no fingers to tie up, no 
 faces to be washed, or collars to be arranged. There never 
 was such peace in the house ! It would sound like music 
 to have some feet to clatter down the front stairs ! Oh 
 for some children's noise ! What used to ail us, that we 
 were hushing their loud laugh, checking their noisy frolic, 
 and reproving their slamming and banging the doors ? 
 We wish our neighbors would only lend us an urchin or 
 two to make a little noise in these premises. A home 
 without children ! It is like a lantern and no candle ; a 
 garden and no flowers ; a vine and no grapes ; a brook 
 and no water gurgling and gushing in its channel. We 
 want to be tired, to be vexed, to be run over, to hear 
 children at work with all its varieties. During the sec- 
 ular days, this is enough marked. But it is the Sabbath 
 that puts our homes to the proof. That is the Christian 
 family day. The intervals of public worship are long 
 spaces of peace. The family seems made up on that 
 day. The children are at home. You can lay your 
 
80 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Lands upon their heads. They seem to recognize the 
 greater and lesser love — to God and to friends. The 
 house is peaceful, but not still. There is a low and me- 
 lodious trill of children in it. But the Sabbath comes 
 too still now. There is a silence that aches in the ear. 
 There is too much room at the table, too much at the 
 hearth. The bedrooms are a world too orderly. There 
 is too much leisure and too little care. Alas ! what mean 
 these things ? Is somebody growing old ? Are these 
 signs and tokens? Is life waning? 
 
 Mothers don't whip them ! Treat God's lambs tenderly. 
 Compel obedience, but not with the rod. The other 
 evening the maternal face appeared at the door of a 
 pleasant little home I had often noticed, and loudly or- 
 dered a little lad of three or so to "come in and see if 
 she did not do as she said she would." The mother, in 
 her wrath at being disobeyed, re-entered the house, 
 not hearing the little one's sobbing explanation that he 
 had stepped outside to bring the baby in. Directly the 
 blows and piteous cries fell upon my ears. Undoubtedly 
 the little one had gone beyond the prescribed bounds ; 
 but it was to bring the wee toddling thing inside, who, 
 as yet heeded not commands, however harshly given, and 
 his full heart and meagre use of words withheld the pow- 
 er of explanation. Poor little man, how my heart ached 
 for him ! Kissless and sad he went to his bed. Mothers, 
 do not whip them ! Do not yourselves make shadows in 
 the sunlight with which God always surrounds children. 
 Do not let them be lulled to sleep by the falling of their 
 tears, or by their own sad sobs and sighs. Far pleasanter 
 it is when you go to tuck them in at night, to find pink 
 feet on the pillow, dimpled knees in air, toys yet in em- 
 brace and smiles on their sweet mouths. Yourselves 
 bear in mind their last words, "If I should die before I 
 wake." Treat them tenderly. I took my little man a 
 shot-gun to-night, and, handing it over the gate, I said, 
 "Now will you mind your mamma, and stay inside when 
 she tells you?" I am sure the "me will" was very sin- 
 cere ; but if they forget, bear with them. If childhood's 
 days cannot be free from sorrow, surely none ever may. 
 
CHILDHOOD. 81 
 
 Children are more easily led to be good by examples 
 of loving kindness, and tales of well-doing in others, 
 than threatened into obedience by records of sin, crime 
 and punishment. Then on the infant mind impress sin- 
 cerity, truth, honesty, benevolence and their kindred 
 virtues, and the welfare of your child will be insured not 
 only during this life, but the life to come. Oh, what a 
 responsibility to form a creature, the frailest and feeblest 
 that heaven has made, into the intelligent and fearless 
 sovereign of the whole animated creation, the interpre- 
 ter and adorer and almost the representative of Divinity 
 — to train the ignorance and weakness of infancy into 
 all the virtue and power and wisdom of mature years ! 
 
 There is, perhaps, no duty more frequently inculcated 
 and enjoined in the Bible, than that conveyed to the 
 mind and understanding by the four words which we 
 have placed at the head of this article. The family is of 
 divine origin — instituted by Jehovah himself. He saw 
 that it was not good that man should be alone, and 
 created woman full of tenderness and love, blooming 
 with beauty, and blushing with charms, without whom 
 man, even in Paradise, could not be completely happy. 
 The mutual desire of each for the other was fully realized 
 in that union which of the twain made one flesh. It was 
 required of them to obey their Heavenly Father as it is 
 of their offspring that they obey their earthly parents. 
 
 The spirit of disobedience soon manifested itself in the 
 first human pair, and was transmitted to their children 
 and to their children's children, and will continue down 
 to the latest posterity. Notwithstanding this, however, 
 the command of God is to all children, " obey your par- 
 ents;" and the command of parents, is " bring up your 
 children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." 
 This is no less imperative than that given to children. In 
 the parents is placed the authority, to educate, instruct, 
 and train their children. And to the children it is said, 
 " obey your parents in all things, for this is right and 
 well pleasing to the Lord." 
 
 The child is no more dependent on his parents for his 
 food and raiment, than for intellectual and religious nur- 
 
 6 
 
82 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 ture. If the former two be withheld the little one soon 
 perishes. If these be duly administered, and mental and 
 religious culture be withholden, the child grows up to 
 bodily maturity with strong animal passions and desires, 
 and being goaded on by these, knows nothing of the re- 
 straints felt by one who has been carefully trained and 
 instructed in things spiritual, as well as provided for in 
 things temporal, and consequently is fit for little else, 
 than the doing of what should be left undone — and thus 
 incurring the penalty of broken law. Better, far better 
 for both parent and child, had the little one not been 
 born, than that he should have a birth only that his body 
 may be nourished to the stature of manhood. 
 
 For the want of the due exercise of parental authority 
 multitudes of children of both sexes are growing up 
 candidates for every evil work. How often have we 
 seen the mother parley with her darling child at the 
 table, for example : — There are pies, cakes, preserves, 
 and the like upon the table, and plainer food ; also the 
 child, prompted by pampered appetite, asks for pie, per- 
 haps; the mother says no — you must eat some of the 
 coarser food first — the child says not so. After much 
 effort to persuade, and not a little noise and clamor on 
 the part of the dear little rebel, the mother yields — the 
 child has conquered — and this same performance is gone 
 through with every day, or as often as the temptation 
 arises. What a fearful responsibility rests upon such 
 parents — deliberately ruining their children, — making 
 them wretched for this world even to say nothing of that 
 which is to come. No such child knows anything about 
 obedience. If he ever does what he is told to do, it is 
 from some other motive than that of obedience. Such a 
 child will not be very likely to obey God, or regard man 
 any farther than prompted by self-interest. 
 
 " How sharper than a serpent's tooth 
 Is an unthankful child." 
 
 An eccentric Elder, well known as an active and earn- 
 est Baptist preacher, once said from the pulpit : " They 
 say there's no family government nowadays. But there 
 is; I tell you there is, just as much as there ever was ; 
 
CHILDHOOD. 83 
 
 but (leaning over the pulpit, and lowering his voice into 
 a quiet and confidential tone) the difference is this : — 
 When I grew up the old folks governed the young ones, 
 but now the young ones govern the old ones." 
 
 Young parent, do you think that your children are 
 yours, to have and to hold for your own pleasure and 
 profit ? — that you have a right to do what you will with 
 them ? You mistake ; they are but lent to you. Every 
 child is but a sacred trust — a responsibility, than which 
 there is none more mighty or fearful in life. " Train up 
 this child for Me. I will require him at thy hands," says 
 our Maker to every parent who receives a child. Judg- 
 ing by the declaration of inspiration, " Train up a child 
 in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not 
 depart from it," how many of our present men and wo- 
 men were trained up in that way ; and what kind of an 
 account will have to be given by their parents ? 
 
 The Intelligencer, in speaking of French immorality, 
 finds " the root of all evil " in the lack of painstaking 
 with children. It says further : In view of these facts, 
 the duty of Christian parents becomes more and more a 
 subject of the deepest concern. A family in which 
 children are reared who have the fear of God in their 
 hearts, is a blessing to the land; and if the families of 
 the church are to be of this character, there must be a 
 return to the discarded truths which used to be regarded 
 as of the first importance in relation to the training of 
 the youth of our country. 
 
 If you find an error in a child's mind, follow it up till 
 he is rid of it. Repeat and fix attention on the exact 
 error, until it can never be committed again. One clear 
 and distinct idea is worth a world of misty ones. Time 
 is of no consequence in comparison to the object. Give 
 the child possession of one clear, distinct truth and it be- 
 comes to him a center of light. In all your teaching — 
 no matter what time it takes — never leave your pupil till 
 you know he has in his mind your exact thought. In 
 all explanations to your child, — and you will find in- 
 numerable explanations called for, — be patient and con- 
 siderate, and leave no sense of vagueness behind, neither 
 a 7 spressive influence. 
 
84 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Do not command children under six years of age to 
 keep anything secret, not even the pleasure you may be 
 preparing as a surprise for a dear friend. The cloudless 
 heaven of youthful openheartedness should not be over- 
 cast, not even by the rosy dawn of shyness ; otherwise, 
 children will soon learn to conceal their own secrets as 
 well as yours. 
 
 We desire to enter a protest against the fashion among 
 many mothers, of referring their children to "father," in 
 matters that require the exercise of judgment and dis- 
 cretion. Of course it is the essence of folly for parents 
 to discuss such matters before their children. What we 
 mean to say is, that the equal sovereignty of parents 
 should be an unquestioned thing in the minds of children. 
 There should be no such thing as an appeal from the de- 
 cisions of the one to the other with hope of a reversal of 
 judgment. Mothers who evade such duty, not only de- 
 preciate their own value in the eyes of their children, 
 but serve to weaken and render valueless the judgment 
 and wisdom of women in general, in the estimation of 
 both their sons and daughters. Women, by some " hocus 
 pocus" of inheritance or custom, often feel suspicious of 
 the excellence of their own judgment, and are prone to 
 appeal to men for ultimate decisions. In the "long run" 
 of affairs, the judgment of women is really superior to 
 that of men. The difference lies in the conscience and 
 the decisive qualities. In the management and training 
 of children, a faulty decision now and then, is not so fatal 
 in result, as a continually wavering and negative manner. 
 Do not infer from this, that all matters pertaining to 
 children should be decided at once, and never deviated 
 from. There are many times when a child should be 
 allowed to plead his own cause, and parents can never 
 be too sympathetic with their children. A lack of it, 
 constitutes the direct griefs of childhoo 
 
 A sagacious observer says: — "When I see children 
 going to their father for comfort, I am sure there is some- 
 thing wrong with their mother." 
 
 The great artist, Benjamin West, said, " A kiss from 
 my mother made me a painter." We give the anecdote 
 
CHILDHOOD. 85 
 
 referred to : — " A little boy named Benjamin West, living 
 in Pennsylvania, was set to watch a baby asleep in a 
 cradle. He looked at it kindly, and felt pleased to see 
 it smile in its sleep. He wished that he could draw a 
 picture of the baby ; and seeing a piece of paper on a 
 table with pen and ink, he tried what he could do. When 
 his mother came in he begged her not to be angry with 
 him for touching the pen, ink, and pt*per ; and then he 
 showed her the picture he had made. His mother saw 
 baby's likeness, and was so much ploased that she kissed 
 her little boy. Then he said if &b.e liked it he would 
 make a picture of some flowers she- held in her hand ; and 
 so he went on from that time i rying to do better and 
 better, until he became one of the best painters in the 
 world.' 7 In after-life he said at, was this kiss from his 
 mother that made him an artist . 
 
 Men often speak of breaking the will of a child ; but 
 it seems to me they had better break its neck. The will 
 needs regulating, not destroying. I should as soon think 
 of breaking the legs of a horse in training him, as a 
 child's will. I never yet heard of a will in itself too strong, 
 more than of an arm too mighty, or a mind too compre- 
 hensive in its grasp, or too powerful in its hold. I would 
 discipline and develop the will into harmonious propor- 
 tions. The instruction of a child should be such as to 
 animate, inspire and train, but not to hew, cut and carve ; 
 for I could always treat a child as a live tree, which was 
 to be helped to grow ; never as dry, dead timber, to be 
 carved into this or that shape, and have certain grooves 
 cut in it. A living tree, and not dead timber, is every 
 little child. 
 
 The late Dr. Henry Ware, when once asked by a parent 
 to draw up a set of rules for the government of children, 
 replied by an anecdote : "Dr. Hitchcock," he said, "was 
 settled in Sandwich ; and when he made his first exchange 
 with the Plymouth minister, he must needs pass through 
 the Plymouth Woods — a nine miles' wilderness, where the 
 travelers almost always got lost, and frequently came 
 out at the point they started from. Dr. H., on entering 
 this much dreaded labyrinth, met an old woman, and 
 
86 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 asked her to give him some directions for getting through 
 the woods so as to fetch up at Plymouth rather than 
 Sandwich. ; Certainly/ she said, 4 1 will tell you all 
 about it, with the greatest pleasure. You will just keep 
 right on till you get some ways into the woods, and you 
 will come to a place where several roads branch off. Then 
 you must stop and consider, and take the one that seems 
 to you most likely to bring you out right.' He did so, 
 and came out right." Dr. Ware added, " I have followed 
 the worthy and sensible old lady's advice in bringing 
 up my children. I do not think anybody can do better ; 
 at any rate, I cannot." Good common sense, doubtless, 
 is often better than all set rules ; but the thing is to 
 have it. 
 
 " The first thing I remember my mother's teaching 
 me," I heard a bachelor say not long since, " was never 
 to ask anybody to do a thing for me that I could do for 
 myself, and above all things learn to wait on myself." 
 It was a humanitarian gospel to inculcate. It is just as 
 much a mother's duty to teach her boys to hang up their 
 hats, put their boots away, brush their coats, and wait 
 upon themselves as much as possible, as it is to teach 
 them the "Lord's Prayer," or "Now I lay me down to 
 sleep." 
 
 An interrogation point symbolizes the life of childhood. 
 " Why " and " What " are the keys with which it unlocks 
 the treasury of the world. The boy's numberless ques- 
 tions often seem trivial, but the wise parent' will never 
 turn them off unanswered if he can help it. It is his rich 
 opportunity of teaching. He is met half way, and there 
 is all the difference between impressing truth on an eager 
 mind and an uninterested one. The little fellow, help- 
 ing you at your work and speering vou with endless 
 questions, may learn as much in a half hour there as in a 
 week when his body is a prisoner in a school-room and 
 his thoughts are out of doors. 
 
 It is by coming in contact with people that we im- 
 prove ; we must see life as it really is. We cannot con- 
 cur in the opinion that young children ought to see only 
 that which is pure and good. They must meet the world 
 
CHILDHOOD. 87 
 
 as it is, and meet it when young. They must have the 
 opportunity to compare. Comparison is a great power 
 in the formation of character. A young lady that has 
 seen nothing of real life, and only knows what she has 
 heard and read, is greatly astonished when she meets the 
 distinguished men and women of any country. They are 
 not equal to her standard. Young people may be made 
 better by contact with that which is not so good. In- 
 stead of falling themselves, they should try to make the 
 bad good. To be thrown in early life among all classes 
 and conditions of people ought to be esteemed an advan- 
 tage rather than a misfortune. The people from whom 
 we can obtain the most sensible, the truest and wisest 
 views of life, are found among those who struggle for an 
 existence. No one can truly understand life unless he 
 has suffered. A truly wise mother might justly be dis- 
 tressed if her child never knew grief. 
 
 In the education of children we should observe and 
 conform to the natural order of the development of their 
 powers and faculties, physical, mental and moral. Nature 
 suggests the true method of education. The early years 
 of a child should be sacred to physical growth and de- 
 velopment. To force out the intellectual faculties before 
 they begin normally to show themselves, is unnatural, 
 and fraught with much danger, not only to the physical 
 health, but to the mental organism of the child. A pre- 
 cocious child is in some sort a monstrosity, and evinces 
 a premature and unhealthy mental development, which 
 soon reaches a culmination, when it reacts or recoils, and 
 the child either dies or its mental powers become paral- 
 yzed or stagnate, and it rarely ever afterward rises above 
 mediocracy. When their impulsations are to play, let 
 them romp and play. Their genius, their ingenuity, 
 their native wit and perceptions, and their true affec- 
 tions, are brought out and educated in their innocent 
 plays and pastimes, better than by any other mode. 
 
 We like mischievous children, and for this reason — 
 they are apt to make old men. Good boys generally die 
 in their fifth year; not because they are good, but because 
 their habits make them strangers to mud-puddles and 
 
88 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 oxygen, dirt-pies and out-door exercise. When a friend 
 tells us he has a little child who " never wants to leave 
 his books," the knob of his front door immediately be- 
 comes an object of interest to us; we know, as if we were 
 blessed with fore-knowledge, that in less than a year a 
 strip of black crape will be throwing a shade across his 
 door- way that time will never eradicate. 
 
 Give children a sound moral and literary education — 
 useful learning for sails, and integrity for ballast — set 
 them afloat upon the sea of life, and their voyage will be 
 prosperous in the best sense of the word. 
 
 The deportment of the older children of the family is 
 of great importance to the younger. Their obedience, 
 or insubordination, operates throughout the whole cir- 
 cle. Especially is the station of the eldest daughter one 
 of eminence. She drank the first draught of a mother's 
 love. She usually enjoys much of her counsel and com- 
 panionship. In her absence, she is the natural viceroy. 
 Let the mother take double pains to inform, her on a cor- 
 rect model : to make her amiable, diligent, domestic, 
 pious — trusting that the image of those virtues may leave 
 impressions on the soft, waxen hearts of the younger 
 ones, to whom she may, in the providence of God, be 
 called to fill the place of maternal guide. 
 
 No one feels the death of a child as a mother feels it. 
 The father cannot feel it thus. True, there is a vacancy 
 in his home and a heaviness in his heart. There is a chain 
 of association that at set times comes round with a broken 
 link — there are memories of endearment, a keen sense of 
 loss, a weeping over crushed hopes, and a pain of wound- 
 ed affection. But the mother feels that one has been 
 taken away who was still closer to her heart. Hers has 
 been the office of constant ministration. Every gradu- 
 ation of feature developed before her eyes ; she detected 
 every new gleam of infant intelligence ; she heard the 
 first utterance of every stammering word; she was the 
 refuge of its fears, the supply of its wants; and every 
 task of affection wove a new link, and made dear to her 
 its object. And when her child dies, a portion of her 
 own life as it were dies with it. How can she give her 
 
CHILDHOOD. 89 
 
 darling up, with all these living memories, these fond 
 associations ? The timid hands that have so often taken 
 in trust and love, how can she fold them on its sinless 
 breast, and surrrender them to Death ? The feet whose 
 wanderings she watched so narrowly, how can she see 
 them straightened to go down into the dark valley ? The 
 head that she had pressed to her lips and bosom, that she 
 has watched in peaceful slumber and in burning sickness, 
 a hair of which she could not see harmed, oh, how can 
 she consign it to the dark chamber of the grave? It 
 was a gleam of sunshine and a voice of perpetual glad- 
 ness in her home ; she had learned from it blessed les- 
 sons of simplicity, sincerity, purity, faith ; it had unsealed 
 within her a gushing, never-ebbing tide of affection; 
 when suddenly it was taken away, and that home is left 
 dark and silent ; and to the vain and heart-rending aspi- 
 ration, " Shall that dear child never return again ?" there 
 breaks in response, through the cold gray silence, "Never- 
 more — oh, nevermore!" The heart is like a forsaken 
 mansion, and that word goes echoing through its deso- 
 late chambers. And yet fond Mother! (" Time brings 
 such wonderous easing,") thou wilt in after years look 
 back, with a not unpleasing sadness, even upon this scene 
 of grief: 
 
 Thou'lt say : " My first horn blessing, 
 It almost broke my heart 
 
 When thou wert forced to go ; 
 
 Ajid yet for thee I know 
 'Twas better to depart. 
 
 God took thee in His mercy, 
 A. lamb untasked, untried; 
 
 He fought the fight for thee, 
 
 He won the victory, 
 A.nd thou art sanctified. 
 
 I look around and see 
 The evil ways of men ; 
 And oh, beloved child, 
 I'm more than reconciled 
 To thy departure then. 
 
 The little hands that clasped me • 
 The innocent lips that pressed, 
 Would they have been as puie 
 Till now as when of yore 
 I lulled thee on my breast?" 
 
90 BOYHOOD. 
 
 And, in this spirit, and with this faith the affections of 
 that bereaved mother will reach out after her little one ; 
 follow it into the unseen and spiritual world which will 
 become a great and vivid reality to her. Its atmosphere 
 will be around her; cords of affection will draw her to- 
 wards it, the face of her departed one will look out from 
 it ; and she will ever more think of her child as not lost, 
 but gone before. 
 
 BOYHOOD. 
 
 The beau ideal of boyhood is some where between 
 eight and twelve — though it exists before and after that 
 age — but when within those years, it is invested with its 
 greatest charm. Then is the first spring of intelligence, 
 when all that meets the eye and the ear creates its due 
 wonder. Then the feelings are tender, and there is yet 
 just so much sweet natural helplessness as serves to keep 
 ever warm and active our affection, by demand upon our 
 care, and to engender a reliance upon us, the source of 
 mutual delight. 
 
 Boys are gregarious creatures, and when in troops, 
 having confidence in themselves and in each other, they 
 are all noise and sport. 
 
 " Turning to mirth all things of earth, 
 As only boyhood can." 
 
 But when quite alone, even in their most delightful idle- 
 ness, sauntering and loitering, by green lanes, or village 
 highways, they show no signs of mirth. Watch them 
 unseen, and you will find the lips apart, the eye inquir- 
 ing ; there is then a look that might be mistaken for pen- 
 sive, but it is not that, nor is it easy to define ; it is, how- 
 ever, singularly expressive of happiness, the result of 
 sensibility and intuitive perception. 
 
 What shall we do with boys ? What shall parents do 
 who live in towns and cities ? What shall professional 
 men do whose children cannot participate in their par- 
 ent's work? Instead of keeping them anxiously within 
 doors, thrust them out as much as possible. Do not let 
 watching become spying. Let children have sports and 
 
BOYHOOD. 91 
 
 companions, and unwatched liberty. Put them upon 
 their honor. Boys will early respond to this. Do not 
 make too much of their mistakes and faults. How can 
 one be a child and not be full of faults ? Explain their 
 mistakes gently. Be patient ! Wait for them ! Children 
 must have time to grow. Somebody had to wait for you. 
 Never let fear make a gulf between the child and you. 
 Within due bounds liberty is the best thing for a child, 
 as it is for a man. It will lead to irregularities, but out 
 of these will come experience, and, gradually, self-con- 
 trol. The object of all family government is to teach 
 children to get along without being governed. They 
 must therefore be trusted ; even if they abuse it, they 
 must be trusted. Keep them busy with pleasant work, 
 if possible. Awaken in them curiosity about the things 
 which lie around them. A very little instruction will 
 make children curious of plants, minerals, natural history, 
 of literary curiosities, autographs, postage-stamp collec- 
 tions, and a thousand things which will inspire pleasure 
 in their reason rather than in their appetites. 
 
 Never scold children, but soberly and quietly reprove. 
 Do not employ shame except in extreme cases. The 
 suffering is acute ; it hurts self-respect in the child to re- 
 prove a child before the family ; to ridicule it, to tread 
 down its feelings ruthlessly, is to wake in its bosom ma- 
 lignant feelings. A child is defenceless ; he is not allowed 
 to argue. He is often tried, condemned, and executed 
 in a second. He finds himself of little use. He is put at 
 things he don't care for, and withheld from things which 
 he does like. He is made the convenience of grown-up 
 people ; is hardly supposed to have any rights, except in 
 a corner, as it were ; is sent hither and thither ; made to 
 get up or sit down for everybody's convenience but his 
 own ; is snubbed and catechised until he learns to dodge 
 government and elude authority, and then be whipped 
 for being " such a liar that no one can believe you." 
 
 Girls may have the hardest time of it in after-life, but 
 for the first fifteen years boys are the sufferers. 
 
 Does it not seem as if in some houses there is actually 
 no place for the boys ? We do not mean the little boys 
 
32 BOYHOOD. 
 
 — there is always room for them ; — they are petted and 
 caressed ; there is a place for them on papa's knee and 
 at mother's footstool, if not in her arms ; — there are loving 
 words, and many, often too many, indulgences. But the 
 class we speak of now are the school-boys, great noisy, 
 romping fellows, who tread on your dress, and upset your 
 work-basket, and stand, in your light, and whistle and 
 drum in your ears, and shout, and ask questions and con- 
 tradict. So what is to be done with them ? Do they 
 not want to be loved and cherished now as dearly as they 
 were in that well-remembered time, when they were little 
 ones, and were indulged, petted and caressed. But they 
 are so noisy, and they wear out the carpets with their 
 thick boots, and it is so quiet when they are gone, say 
 the tired mother, and the fastidious sister, and the ner- 
 vous aunt; "anything for peace sake," and so away go 
 the boys to "loaf" on street corners, and listen to the 
 profane and coarse language of wicked men, or to the 
 unsafe ice, or to the railroad station, or the wharves, or 
 the other common places of rendezvous of those who 
 have nothing to do or no place to stay. 
 
 But it is argued there are few boys who care to stay in 
 the house after school, and it is better they should play 
 in the open air — all of which is true. We argue for those 
 days and stormy days and evenings, all evenings, in which 
 they wish to stay in, or ought to be kept in, in which if 
 kept in they make themselves and everybody else uncom- 
 fortable. We protest against the usages of those homes 
 where the mother is busy with her sewing or her baby, 
 and the father is absorbed with the newspaper in the 
 evening which he never reads aloud, and the boys must 
 " sit still and not make a noise" or go immediately to bed. 
 They hear the merry voices of other boys in the streets 
 and long to join them; home is a dull place; they will 
 soon be a little older, and then, say they, " we will go 
 out and see for ourselves what there is outside which we 
 are forbidden to enjoy." We protest against the usages 
 of those homes where the boys are driven out because 
 their presence is unwelcome, and are scolded when they 
 come in, or checked, hushed and restrained at every out- 
 burst of merriment. 
 
BOYHOOD. 93 
 
 Those mothers who live in the country, and whose 
 children range the woods and fields, and skate on the 
 glittering pond, for whom the house is wide and there is 
 room enough and to spare, can have little idea of the 
 embarrassments of a family of medium or limited means, 
 who are struggling to bring up a number of children in 
 a narrow city house, and surrounded by city temptations. 
 It is to these most especially that our attention is turned, 
 and it is for the children of these that we would plead. 
 If the worn, and weary, and anxious mother, as she looks 
 at her little boys on the floor or at her knee, or sighs 
 that she shall so soon be unable to keep them there, will 
 only extend a little further on into their lives the self- 
 denial she so heroically practices now, she will not lose 
 her reward. If the sister who is shocked at the rudeness 
 of her young brothers, will but join sometimes in their 
 games, listen to their stories, sympathize in their interests 
 and pursuits, she will gain an influence over them which 
 will enable her to win them into gentleness and noble- 
 ness — not suddenly nor at once, but by degrees leading 
 them up unconsciously into higher and holier paths. 
 
 The parents may do well who carefully lay up money 
 for their children, educate them at school, and set them 
 up in business; but they do infinitely better who never 
 suffer the love that warmed the cradle side to grow cold, 
 who lay aside their own comfort and convenience to make 
 home attractive to their sons, and send them out to fight 
 the battle of life, armed with the panoply of firm princi- 
 ples, and warmed and invigorated by the cherishing love 
 whose vigils began at the cradle and will only end at the 
 grave. 
 
 An intelligent and thrifty farmer says: — But for the 
 co-operation of my boys I should have failed. I worked 
 hard, and so did they. The eldest is twenty-one, and 
 other boys in the neighborhood, younger, have left their 
 parents ; mine have stuck to me when I most needed 
 their services. I attribute this result to the fact that I 
 have tried to make home pleasant for them. 
 
 Many a boy ruins his character and wrecks all his hopes 
 by misemploying the evening hours. School or business- 
 
94 BOYHOOD. 
 
 has confined him all the day, and the rebound with which 
 his elastic nature throws these duties off, carries him often 
 unawares beyond the limits both of propriety and pru- 
 dence. Besides the impetuous gush of spirits whose 
 buoyancy has been thus confined, there are influences 
 peculiar to the time which render the evening a period 
 of special temptation. Satan knows that its hours are 
 leisure ones for the multitude, and then, if ever, is he 
 zealous to secure their services; warily planning that 
 unexpected fascinations may give an attractive grace to 
 sin, and unparalleled facilities smooth the path to ruin. 
 Its shadows are a cloak which he persuades the young 
 will fold with certain concealment around every error, 
 in seductive whispers telling them, " It is the black and 
 dark night, come." How many thus solicited to come, 
 " as a bird hastening to the snare, knowing not that it is 
 for their lives," let the constantly recurring instances of 
 juvenile depravity testify. Parents acknowledge the 
 evil here pointed out, and anxiously inquire, "What is 
 to be done ? can we debar our children from every amuse- 
 ment?" Boys themselves confess it, but plead, in reply 
 to the remonstrances of friends, u that evening is their 
 only time, and that they must have some sport." It is 
 certainly very proper that the young should have amuse- 
 ment. None better than ourselves are pleased to hear 
 the lips of childhood eloquent with the exclamation, 
 u Oh! we have had lots of fun." It seems like our own 
 voice coming back in echo to us from out a long lapsed 
 past. These amusements should, however, be innocent ; 
 and innocent amusements are most easily secured and 
 enjoyed at home. Here parental sympathy may sweeten 
 the pleasures, and parental care check the evils of play, 
 frequently intermingling its incidents with lessons of in- 
 struction. If parents would use half the assiduity to ren- 
 der an evening spent at home agreeable, that Satan 
 employs to win to haunts of vice, they would oftentimes 
 escape the grief occasioned by filial misdeeds, and secure 
 a rich reward in having their children's maturity adorned 
 by many virtues. 
 
 Spend your evening hours, boys, at home. You may 
 
BOYHOOD. 95 
 
 make them among the most agreeable and profitable of 
 jour lives, and when vicious companions would tempt 
 you away, remember that God has said, " Cast not in thy 
 lot with them ; walk thou not in their way ; refrain thy 
 foot from their path. They lay in wait for their own 
 blood ; they lurk privily for their own lives. But walk 
 thou in the way of good men, and keep the paths of the 
 righteous." 
 
 A boy may be spoiled about as easily as a girl, by 
 injudicious training ; no, we will take that back — much 
 easier. In the first place, then, by leading him to depend 
 upon his sisters. Who has not seen the spoiled boy in 
 the man who could not tie his dickey without calling his 
 wife from the breakfast table to help him ; or put on his 
 coat without she held the sleeves ; or get a drop of hot 
 water when the kettle was right before him ? Another 
 way to spoil a boy is to pick up after him. Now that's 
 a thing we wouldn't do (begging pardon of the gentle- 
 man) for the President. We hold that there is as much 
 need of neat habits in a boy, as in the gentler sex; and 
 this idea of gathering the coat from the sofa, the vest 
 from the rocking-chair, the boots from the hearth-rug, 
 the collar from under the table, and the neck-cloth from 
 nobody knows where — is perfectly and superlatively 
 ridiculous. Again, why is the boy allowed to use coarse, 
 indelicate expressions, that, from the lips of a girl would 
 call forth well -merited rebuke ? Should the mind of the 
 man be made of coarse material because he is expected 
 to jostle his way through the rude elements of human 
 nature ? That is not the law of the machinist who con- 
 trols dumb matter. Though one engine may be ponder- 
 ous and massive, destined for the roughest work, and 
 another delicate and complicated, there is the same 
 smoothness of material in both — the same polish, the same 
 nice finish. A boy will most surely be spoiled if led to 
 think he can commit offences against morals, which by 
 the parents are considered only masculine — not criminal. 
 Another wrong thing is to bring a boy up for a pro- 
 fession, will he, uill he. Some parents have a respectable 
 hivror for dirt, pnd cannot think of soiled hands and a 
 
96 BOYHOOD. 
 
 trade with any degree of complacency. Therefore the 
 world is burdened with burdens to themselves, in the 
 shape of lawyers, doctors, etc., who are too poor to live, 
 and too poor to die — in comfort. Finally, the surest 
 way to spoil a boy is not to instil into his very soul, from 
 the time he is an infant, a true reverence for woman ; a 
 regard for her virtue as sacred as the love he bears his 
 mother. Never let her name be trifled with in his pres- 
 ence, or her actions interpreted loosely, else you may 
 hereafter share the disgrace of having given to the world 
 a curse more corrupting than that of all others — a heart- 
 less libertine. 
 
 We love to see boys happy. We well remember our 
 school-days — how the joyful scenes of those golden hours 
 rise before us as we write. After a long a labored ses- 
 sion of school, what is finer for boys than a good frolic 
 on the green grass ? See them ! — they hop and run, and 
 toss their hats and balls; every bone and cord and 
 muscle of their young and active frames is brought into 
 full and vigorous play. Their minds are unpent as well 
 as their bodies. Let boys have exercise. They must 
 have it, and a good deal too; and they must have the 
 right kind, or they will become sickly and dwarfish, their 
 minds feeble, and their feelings peevish and fretful. The 
 open air, and the more free and pure the better, is impor- 
 tant to good exercise to any one, but especially the boys. 
 Otherwise they will be pale and weak, as a plant doomed 
 to the shade. They must have exercise which makes 
 them forget themselves, and all their troubles and tasks, 
 and throws the mind and heart into a glow of life and 
 
 joy- 
 Boyhood needs its discipline of care as well as man- 
 hood. Young shoulders, however, should not carry the 
 load of old, and grow prematurely bowed. Give the 
 boys something that suits their time of life, though it seem 
 boy's play by their elders. They are just released from 
 the confinement of the winter school and need a pleasant 
 change. The excitement of sugar-making comes just in 
 time, and let the boys have a chance. What gala days 
 these are for them among the maples. How the young 
 
BOYHOOD. 97 
 
 blood leaps in their veins and flushes their cheeks while 
 the sap is mounting and running and exhaling its maple 
 odors. Now, too, the calves and lambs and pigs are 
 coming into the world, and how naturally the boys take 
 to them. The barn just now is a good school for first 
 lessons in stock-raising and kindness to animals, and the 
 boys here are their own best teachers. Then they can 
 be fitting up the dove cotes and martin boxes and chicken 
 coops, making nests satisfactory for the setting hens and 
 getting things ready, generally for the new comers. Boys 
 need only to have the yoke fitted to their years, and they 
 will hardly feel easy without it. 
 
 Every man who can afford it should supply his boys 
 with tools, and a room where they may be used and cared 
 for. A boy takes to tools as naturally as to green apples, 
 or surreptitious and forbidden amusements ; and ten to 
 one if he has a chance to develop his mechanical tastes 
 and gratify them to their full extent, his tendencies to 
 vicious courses will remain undeveloped. Such a result 
 is enough to compensate for all the expense and trouble 
 the indulgence we recommend would entail ; while the 
 chances that the early development of his constructive 
 faculties may in this mechanical age be the means by 
 which he may ultimately climb to fame and fortune are 
 not small. Yes, give them tools — not merely the need- 
 ful implements for cultivating the garden, but give them 
 a few good carpenter's tools, with a bench on which to 
 use them. Let their first attempt be upon a chest in 
 which to keep the saw, hammer, bit- stock, and bits, 
 planes, square, rule, chisels, gimlets, awl, screw-driver, 
 etc., with separate hand box to set in, containing apart- 
 ments for screws, and different sized nails and brads ; let 
 the middle partition of the box be a high board, having 
 a convenient handle cut out of the top to carry it by. 
 The next attempt may be on a house or clothes chest, 
 regularly dove-tailed together, and provided with a "till" 
 at one or both ends. Our "blue chest," made while a 
 small boy, will ever remain as one of the household trea- 
 sures. A handsled, set of trucks or wheel-barrow will 
 soon follow, after which the more useful farm implements, 
 
 7 
 
98 BOYHOOD. 
 
 such as axe, hoe, or fork handles may be readily made, or 
 sundry carpenter jobs attended to, such as putting new 
 shingles or siding on the house, setting glass, making and 
 attaching water gutters to the eaves, etc. We could 
 mention instances where persons without serving an ap- 
 prenticeship, but with a fondness for and readiness in 
 handling tools which frequent use begets, have constructed 
 most of the implements on the farm, not excepting the 
 ox-cart and hay wagon. Others have built a barn, 
 finished off rooms in the house, painted the buildings 
 outside and inside, doing the work at a leisure time when 
 there was little else requiring attention. Therefore we 
 say again, give the boys a set of tools to amuse themselves 
 with, and the money will be well invested. 
 
 Many a rich man, in bringing up his son, seems ambi- 
 tious of making what Aaron made — A golden calf. 
 
 Parents do wrong in keeping their children hanging 
 around home, sheltered and enervated by parental indul- 
 gence. The eagle does better. It stirs up its nest when 
 the young eaglets are able to fly. They are compelled 
 to shift for themselves, for the old eagle literally turns 
 them out, and at the same time tears all the down and 
 feathers from the nest. 'Tis this rude and rough experi- 
 ence that makes the king of birds so fearless in his flight, 
 and so expert in the pursuit of prey. It is a misfortune 
 to be born with a silver spoon in your mouth, for you 
 have it to carry and plague you all your days. Riches 
 often hang like a dead weight, yea like a millstone about 
 the necks of ambitious young men. Had Benjamin 
 Franklin or George Law been brought up in the lap of 
 affluence and ease, they would probably never have been 
 heard of by the world at large. It was the making of 
 the one that he ran away, and of the other that he was 
 turned out doors. Early thrown upon their own resources 
 they acquired the energy and skill to overcome resist- 
 ance, and to grapple with the difficulties that beset their 
 pathway. And here I think they learned the most im- 
 portant lesson of their lives — a lesson that developed 
 their manhood — forcing upon them Necessity, the most 
 useful and inexorable of masters. There is nothing like 
 
BOYHOOD. 99 
 
 being bound out, turned out, or even kicked out, to compel 
 a man to do for himself. Rough handling of the last sort 
 has often made drunken men sober. Poor boys, though 
 at the foot of the hill, should remember that every step 
 they take towards the goal of wealth and honor gives 
 them increased energy and power. They have a purchase, 
 and obtain a momentum, the rich man's son never knows. 
 The poor man's son has tlie furthest to go,* but without 
 knowing it he is turning the longest lever, and that with 
 the utmost vim and vigor. Boys, do not sigh for the 
 capital or indulgence of the rich, but use the capital you 
 have — I mean those GoD-given powers which every 
 healthy youth of good habits has in and of himself. All 
 a man wants in this life is a skillful hand, a well informed 
 mind, and a good heart. In our happy land, and in these 
 favored times of Libraries, Lyceums, Liberty, Religion 
 and Education, the humblest and poorest can aim at the 
 greatest usefulness, and the highest excellence, with a 
 prospect of success that calls forth all the endurance, per- 
 severance and industry that is in man. 
 
 To the boy, the world beyond immediate surroundings 
 is only a picture. He does not know how real are the 
 sorrows, the passions, the ambitions of men. His sports, 
 his lessons, his home life are alone real. But there will 
 come a change. Like a stereoscopic picture before it is 
 put into the stereoscope, the life of men has no body or 
 reality ; but when the boy awakens, as with the picture 
 within the instrument, so with him a solidity and natu- 
 ralness will be acquired by the external world, and he 
 will feel that it is his henceforth to live and move amongst 
 these grander and graver forms. Many mistakes will be 
 committed, the very earnestness of his new conceptions 
 will hurry him into extravagances and generous errors ; 
 but if there is truth in his nature, and nobleness in his 
 spirit, just views will be formed and the day in which 
 is given him to work will find him not unmindful of the 
 responsibility which arises from a knowledge of the 
 coming fight. 
 
 What will he become ? 
 
 This question is often asked by parents in regard to 
 
100 BOYHOOD. 
 
 their sons, and by friends of many young men. And 
 although there is no definite rules ascertaining, we may 
 get some idea of what a young man will become by ob- 
 serving his first action and works. Solomon said, many 
 centuries ago, "even a child is known by his work, 
 whether it be good or whether it be evil." Therefore, 
 when you see a boy slow to go to school, indifferent to 
 learning, and- glad of every opportunity to neglect his 
 lessons, you may take it for granted that he will be a 
 blockhead. When you see a boy anxious to spend money, 
 and who spends every cent as soon as he gets it, you 
 may know that he will be a spendthrift When you see 
 a boy hoarding up his pennies, and unwilling to part 
 with them for any good purpose, you may set it down 
 that he will be a miser. When you see a little boy wil- 
 ling to taste strong drink, you may rightly suppose that 
 he will become a drunkard. When a boy is disrespect- 
 ful to his parents, disobedient to his teacher, and unkind 
 to his friends and playmates, it is a sign he will never be 
 of much account. When you see a boy looking out foi 
 himself, and unwilling to share good things with others, 
 it is a sign that he will grow up a selfish man. When 
 you hear a boy using profane language, you may take it 
 for a sign that he will become a wicked and profligate 
 man. When you see boys rude to each other, you may 
 know they will become disagreeable men. When you 
 see boys pouting and grumbling, when told to do any- 
 thing, and always seem depressed when they have any 
 work to perform, it is a sign that they will be good-for- 
 nothing men. When you see boys that are kind and 
 obliging to each other, obedient and respectful to their 
 parents, attentive to their studies and duties, it is a sign 
 that they will become good and useful men. When you 
 see a boy that loves his Bible, and is well acquainted 
 with it, it is a sign of great future blessing from Almighty 
 God. When you see a boy that stays away from theatres, 
 grog-shops, ball-rooms and gambling houses, it is a sign 
 that he will grow up a man in principle, knowledge 
 and goodness. When you see a boy practising the vir- 
 tues of morality and Christianity, you may know that 
 
BOYHOOD. 101 
 
 iie will become an honor to himself and family, useful to 
 his country, and a glory to his Maker. Although great 
 changes sometimes take place in the character, these 
 signs, as a general rule, hold good. 
 
 Our daughters are constitutionally more marked by 
 sensibility, and our sons are more marked by willful- 
 ness. The consequence is that we are more anxious 
 what will happen to our daughters, and what will happen 
 from our sons — the daughter's sensitiveness exposing her 
 to receive harm, and the son's willfulness exposing him 
 to do harm. We are not wise to quarrel with Nature, 
 and we must expect that boys will be more noisy and 
 mischievous, than girls; nay, we may count it a good 
 sign of a lad's force of character if there is a good share 
 of aggressive, fun-loving pluck in his composition. "Well 
 managed, his animal spirits will give him all the more 
 manly loyalty, and when true to the right cause, he will 
 be all the more true ; because so much living sap has 
 gone up into the fruit of his obedience. Yet what is 
 more sad than force of will perverted to base uses, and 
 the strength of manhood sunk into service of base lusts 
 or fiendish passions ? 
 
 The resources of childhood are nearly inexhaustible. 
 Nobody else on this planet is so ingenious in inventing 
 fun as a rollicking boy. His resources in this respect 
 are as original as inexhaustible. In coming down Rail- 
 road street the other day we had an illustration. A boy 
 of ten years was walking before us with legs that would 
 comport with the body of Daniel Lambert. We looked 
 at him in amazement. " Son, what is the matter with 
 your legs?" "Nothing. My legs are bunkum. Just 
 see 'em walk." And he waddled off like a duck. " What 
 distends your breeches so ?" "Sand, sir," said he, with 
 a hearty laugh. True enough, the boy had tied his 
 pants with strings at the bottom, as is done in deep 
 snow, and filled them to the waist with sand. We walked 
 away ruminating upon the vast resources of boyhood to 
 inaugurate a little fun. Happy boyhood ! It's a pity 
 that adult life cannot command as much philosophy. 
 
 A boy not fond of fun and frolic may possibly make 
 & tolerable man, but he is an intolerable boy. 
 
102 YOUTH. 
 
 Vivacity in youth is often mistaken for genius, and 
 stolidity for. dullness. 
 
 It is ruinous to the young to demand of them more 
 than you are quite sure that they can accomplish with 
 moderate industry. 
 
 When you see a ragged urchin 
 
 Standing wistful in the street, 
 With torn hat and kneeless trowsers, 
 
 Dirty face and bare red feet, 
 Pass not by the child unheeding ; 
 
 Smile upon him. Mark me, when 
 He's grown, he'Jl not forget it ; 
 
 For, remember, boys make men. 
 
 When the buoyant youthful spirits 
 
 Overflow in boyish freak, 
 Chide your child "in gentle accents ; 
 
 Do not in your anger speak ; 
 You must sow in youthful bosoms 
 
 Seeds of tender mercy ; .then 
 Plants will grow and bear good fruitage 
 
 When the erring boys are men. 
 
 Have you never seen a grandsire, 
 
 With his eyes aglow with joy, 
 Bring to mind some act of kindness — 
 
 Something said to him, a boy ? 
 Or relate some slight or coldness, 
 
 With a brow as clouded, when 
 He said they were too thoughtless 
 
 To remember boys made men. 
 
 Let us try to add come pleasure 
 
 To the life of every boy ; 
 For each child needs tender interest 
 
 In its sorrow and its joy. 
 Call your boys home by its bright 
 
 They avoid a gloomy den, 
 And seek for comfort elsewhere ; 
 
 And, remember, boys make men. 
 
 YOUTH. 
 
 Ages upon ages ago the tide was out, and the muddy 
 beach lay smooth as this sheet of paper before me. A 
 cloud passed over the sky, and a shower of big rain or 
 hail came down and pitted the mud as thick as leaves 
 on trees. A strong wind drove the drops so that the 
 impressions were a little one-sided. They had written 
 their short history as plain as my pen can write ; and 
 
YOUTH. 103 
 
 even the direction from which the win! blew was re- 
 corded. Some great frogs and lizards which used to 
 live there, came hopping over the mud, and left their 
 tracks also deeply printed on the shore. B y-and-by the 
 great waves came stealing up, and covered the whole 
 surface with fine sand, and so the tracks were seen no 
 more for ages upon ages. The clay hardened into solid 
 rock, and so did the sand ; and after these thousands of 
 years had passed away, some masons came upon the 
 curious inscription. Men of science, who are skilled in 
 reading these stony leaves of God's great book, read as 
 plainly as if they had been present, the story of that 
 passing shower. It had been writteu on the softest clay, 
 but it was read on solid rock. So your hearts to-day 
 are like the soft clay. Everything stamps them, but 
 the stamps are not so easy to remove. They will be 
 there when you are grown up to be a man or woman. 
 0, what deep, dark prints the bad words of evil associ- 
 ates make ! But how lovely to recall the record which 
 kind and loving actions make upon the soul ! There is 
 another place where all our actions are written down, 
 which we should never forget. It is the book God 
 keeps in heaven. We can never bear to meet that record 
 unless we have Jesus Christ for our Saviour. Then we 
 shall know that nothing there will appear to condemn 
 us. We shall rejoice when God calls us to come and 
 appear before Him. 
 
 The pleasures of our youth pass away like music in a 
 dream. 
 
 " Avoid in youth, luxurious diet ; 
 Restrain the passions lawless riot ; 
 Devoted to domestic quiet, 
 
 Be wisely gay ; 
 So shall you, spite of age's fiat, 
 
 Resist decay." 
 
 Listen to the advice of your parents; treasure up 
 their precepts ; respect their riper judgment ; and en- 
 deavor to merit the approbation of the wise and good. 
 
 It is not probable that those who are vicious in youth 
 will become virtuous in old age. 
 
 Acquire in youth that you may enjoy in age. 
 
 Such as the youth is, such will be the man. 
 
104 TO YOUNG MEN. 
 
 To be good is to be happy is a truth never to be for- 
 gotten by those commencing the journey of life. 
 
 TO YOUNG MEN. 
 
 The line of conduct chosen by a young man during 
 the five years from fifteen to twenty, will in almost every 
 instance, determine his character for life. As he is then 
 careful or careless, prudent or imprudent, industrious or 
 indolent, truthful or dissimulating, intelligent or ignor- 
 ant, temperate or dissolute, so he will be in after years ; 
 and it needs no prophet to cast his horoscope, or calcu- 
 late his chance in life. 
 
 Young men and boys rarely realize, we fear, how much 
 their success in life depends upon their present deport- 
 ment. Their conduct is more generally observed than 
 they are ready to believe, and frequently discussions take 
 place among business and influential men in regard to 
 their fitness for places for which young men are wanted, 
 of which they never know. 
 
 We were made to think of this the other day, in hear- 
 ing one of the best business men, who will have no one 
 about him who is not above suspicion, point out half a 
 dozen young men whom he would cheerfully and con- 
 fidently recommend for any position — however respon- 
 sible — ^that any young man could fill. They are young 
 men whose general conduct recommends them. They 
 are never seen rowdying about the streets ; they are never 
 seen hanging about restaurants ; they .are never seen 
 making themselves conspicuous by boisterous behavior ; 
 they are never seen "taking a state," with a cigar in the 
 mouth, and the hat cocked to one side of the head ; they 
 are never heard shocking the moral sensibilities of decent 
 people by profane or indecent language ; in short they 
 have none of the characteristics of self-indulging loafer 
 or rowdy. They are the pride of their parents, and an 
 honor to the community in which they live, and destined 
 to be the leading men of the country. All young men 
 
TO YOUNG MEN. 105 
 
 should be ambitious to have such reputations, so that 
 when positions of trust are to be filled, their friends can, 
 with confidence recommend them. 
 
 Young man, look up ! See what your associates are 
 doing, while as yet you have not even thought of making 
 a stir in the world. Are you willing to be thus left 
 behind. Look at the many ways before you that lead to 
 places of honor and usefulness. Take some single thing, 
 on which to spend the talent you have received, and not 
 give your mind to a number, to no good purpose. 
 Choose a good and honored calling, and with the motto, 
 "Excelsior " follow it. Are your means limited, then so 
 much the more will you need extra perseverance. Is 
 your opportunity for acquiring knowledge poor, then 
 use well that which you possess. Your talent small, talk 
 not of that, your talents are dormant. You may be a 
 sleeping giant. It is your duty to arouse them into 
 action. God has not given you more than you can per- 
 form, neither will he withhold from you needed assist- 
 ance; all are within your reach, and can be grasped at 
 your will. Commence now to live and move for some- 
 thing beyond the supplying of your own daily wants, 
 that the people may call you blessed. 
 
 It should be the aim of every young man to go into 
 good society. We do not mean the rich, the proud and 
 fashionable, but the society of the wise, the intelligent, 
 und the good. Where you find men that know more 
 than you do, and from whose conversation one can gain 
 information, it is always safe to be found. It has broken 
 down many a man by associating with the low and vul- 
 gar, where the ribald song was inculcated, and the inde- 
 cent story, to excite laughter, and influence the bad 
 passions. Lord Clarendon has attributed success and 
 happiness in life to associating with persons more virtuous 
 than himself. If you wish to be wise and respected — if 
 you desire happiness and not misery, we advise you to 
 associate with the intelligent and the good. Strive for 
 mental excellence and strict integrity, and you will never 
 be found in the sinks of pollution, and on the benches of 
 retailers and gamblers. Once habituate yourself to a 
 
106 TO YOUNG MEN. 
 
 virtuous course — once secure a love of good society, and 
 no punishment would be greater than by accident to be 
 obliged for half a day to associate with the low and vul- 
 gar. 
 
 Keep good company or none. Never be idle. If 
 your hands cannot be usefully employed, attend to the 
 cultivation of your mind. Always speak the truth. 
 Make few promises. Live up to your engagements. 
 Keep your own secrets, if you have any. When you 
 speak to a person, look him in the face. Good company 
 and good conversation are the very sinews of virtue. 
 Good character is above all things else. Your character 
 cannot be essentially injured except by your own acts. 
 If one speak evil of you, let your life be such that none 
 will believe him. Drink no kind of intoxicating liquors. 
 Always live, misfortune excepted, within your income. 
 When you retire to bed, think over what you have been 
 doing during the day. Make no haste to be rich if you 
 would prosper. Small and steady gains give competen- 
 cy with tranquility of mind. Never play at any kind of 
 game of chance. Avoid temptation through fear that 
 you may not be able to withstand it. Never run into 
 debt, unless you see a way to get out again. Never 
 borrow if you can possibly avoid it. Never speak evil 
 of any one. Be just before you are generous. Keep 
 yourself innocent if you would be happy. Save when 
 you are young to spend when you are old. Never think 
 that which you do for religion is time or money mis- 
 spent. Always go to meeting when you can. Read 
 some portion of the Bible every day. Often think of 
 death, and your accountability to God. 
 
 Indeed it may be said that, ordinarily, what a man is at 
 thirty-five he will be at fifty, so far as the characteristics 
 of eminence are concerned. And this rule will be found 
 correct, if applied to our own acquaintances. A man 
 pretty clearly reveals what he will be before thirty-five 
 years of age. It is true one may have within him the 
 elements of success that cannot be fully demonstrated to 
 the world for various causes, even as late as this, but he 
 will give indubitable proof of the possession of such 
 
TO YOUNG MEN. 107 
 
 elements, which in time are to be fully demonstrated. 
 I know a man who is very rich now, though he was 
 very poor when he was a boy. He said his father taught 
 him never to play till all his work for the day was finished, 
 and never to spend his money until he had earned it. If 
 he had but half an hour's work to do in a day, he was 
 taught to do that the first thing, and to do it in half an 
 hour. After this was done he could play ; and my young 
 friends all know he could play with a great deal more 
 pleasure, than he could if he had the thought of his un- 
 finished work still on his mind. He says he early formed 
 the habit of doing everything in its season, and it soon 
 became perfectly easy for him to do so. It is to this 
 habit that he owes his present prosperity. I am happy 
 to add that he delights to do good with his riches. 
 Young men be industrious. If you are prodigal of 
 time — are indifferent as to what use you make of it, you 
 will contract bad habits, of which it will be no easy mat- 
 ter to rid yourselves. It is well to look forward to the 
 future, and mark the evils resulting from a lazy, idle life. 
 Think of the time when you will begin to act for your- 
 selves, in the more trying scenes of after years — think 
 what will be your character and reputation then, if you 
 now waste your days in trifles and follies. But, if indus- 
 try is stamped upon your characters, great will be your 
 enjoyment. You will not only be respected and beloved, 
 but you will never lack for employment. In one pursuit 
 or another, you will be constantly engaged, and of course, 
 prove to be useful men. On the other hand, if you con- 
 tract bad habits — dislike the idea of constant employ- 
 ment — you will begin by degrees to be dissatisfied with 
 your business, and continually wish for some change. 
 You will often be led to say, " My occupation is an un- 
 pleasant one, in which I shall never be able to accomplish 
 much." With such feelings, you will be dissatisfied with 
 everything about your business, and ardently desire to 
 make some change, which you will conjecture to be for 
 the best. You will always complain. Nothing will seem 
 to go right. Your mind will be filled with unpleasant 
 thoughts, and perfect hatred to your business will ensue 
 
108 TO YOUNG MEN. 
 
 — and the thought of spending all your days about such 
 an employment, cannot be endured ; and in an unguarded 
 hour you will burst the fetter that seems to bind you — 
 and what will be the result ? Instead of feeling that 
 happy state of mind which you contemplated, unhappy 
 thoughts will distress you, and you will regret the step 
 you have taken ; which, unless retraced, may prove your 
 ruin. Now all this arises from trifling causes ; a little 
 dissatisfaction may make you dilatory — you will associate 
 with idle companions, and work yourself into the belief 
 that you, of all others, are under the severest restraint. 
 Continue to nurture this feeling, and it produces all that 
 dissatisfaction which is the prolific source of sorrow and 
 misery. Be industrious, then, whatever may be your 
 calling or profession, and you will reap the glorious re 
 wards in a life of usefulness and happiness. 
 
 Young men, you are the architects of your own for- 
 tunes. Rely upon your own strength of body and soul. 
 Take for your motive, self-reliance, honesty and industry ; 
 for your star, faith, perseverance and pluck, and inscribe 
 on your banner, " Be just and fear not." Don't take toe 
 much advice ; keep at the helm and steer your own ship. 
 Strike out. Think well of yourself. Fire above the 
 mark you intend to hit. Assume your position. Don't 
 practice excessive humility; you can't get above yom 
 level, as water don't run up hill — haul potatoes in a cart 
 over a rough road, and the small potatoes will go to the 
 bottom. Energy, invincible determination, with a right 
 motive, are the levers that rule the world. The great 
 art of commanding is to take a fair share of the work 
 Civility costs nothing and buys everything. Don't drink 
 don't swear ; don't gamble ; don't steal ; don't deceive' 
 don't tattle. Be polite ; be generous ; be kind. Stud}' 
 hard ; play hard. Be in earnest. Be self-reliant. Read 
 good books. Love your fellow-men as your God ; love 
 your country, and obey the laws ; love virtue; love truth. 
 Always do what your conscience tells you to be a duty, 
 and leave the consequences with God. 
 
 Not long since, we saw a tear gathering in the eye of 
 an old man, as he spoke of the past and the present — 
 
TO YOUNG MEN. 109 
 
 of the time when he burned pine knots upon the rude 
 home hearth for light to obtain a scanty education, and 
 then compared the ten thousand privileges which are now 
 scattered broadcast around every door. Oh, said he, in 
 tremulous tones, the young men of this day, do not ap- 
 preciate the light of the age they live in. The words of 
 the old man made us sad, while at the same time, we felt 
 mortified that so many of our young men fail to improve 
 the advantages within their reach. They are even con- 
 tinually muttering about their lot, and pushing for posi- 
 tions where they can win the reward without the sweet- 
 ening, purifying, ennobling sacrifice of toil. The mist- 
 cloud enjoyments of a day, are eagerly sought after, to 
 the exclusion or neglect of the more honorable, intellect- 
 ual and useful. In truth, few of our young men know 
 anything of the value of the privileges around them. 
 
 Thousands of young men are to-day drifting helplessly 
 about on the ocean of life, vainly hoping that ere long 
 some favorable breeze will spring up and drive their ves- 
 sels into some safe harbor. Where that safe harbor is 
 they have no idea ; because they have no definite object 
 in view. They have never decided upon any course of 
 life, but permit their actions to be shaped and moulded 
 by the circumstances of the hour. Is it any wonder that 
 disasters follow each other ? More men are ruined through 
 indecision than from a wrong decision. Few men will 
 deliberately lay out and pursue a plan of life that will 
 ultimately work their ruin. Most young men of the pre- 
 sent day enter the great battle of life without any well 
 defined system of warfare, and consequently spend their 
 best days in aimless pursuits. Indecision is the bane of 
 our existence. Could we look into the world of spirits 
 we would find but few souls in the dark region of woe 
 that had resolved to reach that goal ; nearly all who are 
 there, and those who are hastening there, are in their 
 present conditions simply because they never decided 
 whither they would go, and their indecision has been 
 their ruin. 
 
 Never affect to be other than what you are, either 
 richer or wiser. Never be ashamed to say "I don't 
 
110 TO YOUNG MEN. 
 
 know." Never be ashamed to say, whether applied to 
 time or money, "I cannot afford it." Once establish 
 yourself and your mode of life as what they really are, 
 and your foot is on solid ground, whether for the gradual 
 step onward or the sudden spring over the precipice. 
 From these maxims we may deduce another — learn to 
 say "No" with decision, "Yes," with caution — "No" 
 with decision, whenever it meets a temptation ; " Yes" 
 with caution whenever it implies a promise. A -promise 
 once given is a bond inviolable. A man is already of 
 some consequence in the world when it is known that we 
 can implicitly rely upon him. How frequently have we 
 seen in life such a man preferred to a long list of appli- 
 cants for some important charge ; he has been lifted at 
 once into station and fortune merely because he has this 
 reputation — that when he says he knows a thing, he 
 knows it, and when he says he will do a thing he will do it. 
 To a young man from home, friendless and forlorn, in 
 a great city, the hours of peril are those between sunset 
 and bed time ; for the moon and stars are more evil in a 
 single hour than the sun in his whole day's circuit. The 
 poet's visions of evening are all composed of tender and 
 soothing images. It brings the wanderer to his home, 
 the child to its mother's arms, the ox to his stall, and 
 the weary laborer to his rest. But to the gentle hearted 
 youth who is thrown upon the rocks of a pitiless city, 
 and " stands homeless amid a thousand homes," the ap- 
 proach of evening brings with it an aching sense of lone- 
 liness and desolation, which comes down on the spirit 
 like darkness upon the earth. In this mood, his best im- 
 pulses become a snare to him, and he is led astray be- 
 cause he is social, affectionate, sympathetic and warm- 
 hearted. If there be a young man thus circumstanced, 
 let me say to him that books are the friends of the friend- 
 less, and that a library is the home of the homeless. A 
 taste for reading will always carry you to converse with 
 men who will instruct you by their wisdom, and charm 
 you by their wit, who will soothe you when fretted, re- 
 fresh you when weary, counsel you when perplexed, and 
 sympathize with you at all times. Evil spirits, in the 
 
TO YOUNG- MEN. Ill 
 
 middle ages, were exorcised arid driven away by bell, 
 book and candle ; you want but two of these agents, the 
 book and the candle. 
 
 The most important part of the population, as well as 
 the most essential element of the prosperity and great- 
 ness of the city, is the army of young men being trained 
 in the work-shops an 1 counting-houses, :: take place of 
 their fathers in carrying ; d the great purposes of life. 
 To a portion of this hopeful young army, drilling to fight 
 the battles :: life, I desire to address a few words of en- 
 couragement and advice. Many of these young men, 
 indeed very :>ften :"_:sr who make the most successful 
 business men, come from the country. It frequently 
 happens that an ardent and ambitious youth, fresh from 
 the indulgence and applause of an affectionate rural home, 
 coming to the city irh. high and rose-tinted hopes of 
 speedily achieving success, becomes chilled and disgusted 
 with the dull and prosy reality — the slow and toilsome 
 path by patient following of which success may alone be 
 reached- Or, he takes offence at the stern but well- 
 meant admonitions ihd sounselof an employer who has 
 himself trudged up the rough and self-denying road, and 
 retires at once from the ::n:e5:. blighting forever what 
 might have been a useful, honorable and successful career, 
 to become a home drudge, the scoff of his neighbors, 
 and to add another to the mournful number of those 
 ruined I fatal mistake in the morninsr of life. I do 
 not pretend :: say that there never are causes justifying 
 this step, nor that it may not be recovered from ; but 
 what I desire to impress ;:_ the minds of my youthful 
 readers is. that : a : Qt-heartedness and shrinkin % from the 
 conflict after the stern reality of the battle has been ex- 
 perienced — too well understood, with a pang of regret, 
 by many who will read this — is what stems the tide of 
 fortune and of fame. T : su oh I would say. with all the 
 earnestness of my heart, do not give up ; choke down 
 the coward impulses that urge you to fly ; manfully face 
 the lifficulties thai loom up before you, and what appear 
 to be grim anddishear: en ing obstacles wiD lissolve into 
 thin air in your firm grasp, and you will smile at your 
 
112 TO YOUNG MEN. 
 
 causeless fears. Do not take offence at the corrections 
 and advice of your employer, even though they should 
 sometimes be delivered somewhat sternly, or with a 
 touch of admonitory anger. Above all, do not give way 
 to sullenness. Be open, frank, honest. If you feel ag- 
 grieved at any real or fancied injustice he has done you, 
 tell him so in a manly, fearless way, and if he is a man 
 whom it will conduce to your welfare to remain with, 
 your difficulties will be amicably adjusted, and the sun- 
 shine of increased mutual confidence and respect light up 
 your pathway. How much better is this than to spend 
 days in fits of gloomy anger, giving rise to mutual dis- 
 trust and ill-will, that will be certain in time to produce 
 a rupture and a severance of your relations as employer 
 and employee — an event in which you will be the chief 
 sufferer. 
 
 I do not hold, however, that because a man has fought 
 his way up to commercial eminence, he is justified in 
 being snappish, fault-finding, and insolent to his clerks. 
 Quite the contrary. His own experience should rather 
 teach him the need of exercising kindness and forbear- 
 ance towards those who in years and knowledge are so 
 greatly his inferiors, and so sensitive to rebuke. I am 
 fully persuaded that the man who is uniformly kind and 
 courteous to his employees, will be better and more 
 faithfully served than he who treats them as though they 
 had no rights which he is bound to respect. 
 
 There is no surer destroyer of youth, privileges, pow- 
 ers and delights, — than yielding the spirit to the empire 
 of ill-temper and selfishness. We should all be cautious, 
 as we advance in life, of allowing occasional sorrowful 
 experience to overshadow our perception of the prepon- 
 derance of good. Faith in good is at once its own rec- 
 titude and reward. To believe good, and to do good, 
 truly and trustfully, is the healthiest of humanity's Con- 
 ditions. To take events cheerfully, and promote the 
 happiness of others is the way to ensure the enduring 
 spring of existence. Content and kindliness are the soft 
 vernal showers and fostering sunny warmth that keep a 
 man's nature and being fresh and green. " Lord keep 
 
TO YOUNG MEN. 113 
 
 my existence fresh and green," would be no less wise a 
 prayer than the one so beautifully recorded respecting a 
 man's memory. If we would leave a gracious memory 
 behind us, there is no better way to secure it, than by 
 living graciously. A cheerful and benign temper, that 
 buds forth pleasant blossoms, and bears sweet fruit for 
 those who live within its influence, is sure to produce an 
 undying growth of green remembrances that shall flour- 
 ish immortally after the present stock is decayed and 
 gone. 
 
 Prof. Silliman closed a Smithsonian lecture in Wash- 
 ington by giving the following sensible advice to young 
 men : u If, therefore, you wish for a clear mind, strong 
 muscles, and quiet nerves, for long life and power pro- 
 longed into old age, permit me to say, although not a 
 temperance lecturer, avoid all drinks but water, and but 
 mild infusions of that fluid ; shun tobacco and opium, 
 and everything else that disturbs the normal state of the 
 system; rely upon nutritious food and mild dilutent 
 drinks, of which water is the basis, and you will need 
 nothing beyond these things, except rest and the due 
 moral regulation of all your powers, to give you long, 
 and happy, and useful lives, and a serene evening at the 
 close." 
 
 Women will be pure if man will be true. Young 
 men, this great result abides with you ! If you could 
 see how beautiful a flower grows upon the thorny stock 
 of self-denial, you could give the plant the honor it de- 
 serves. If it seems hard and homely, despise it not ; for 
 in it sleeps the beauty of heaven and the breath of angels. 
 If you do not witness the glory of its blossomings during 
 the day of life, its petals will open when the night of 
 death comes, and gladden your eyes with their marvel- 
 ous loveliness, and fill your soul with their grateful 
 perfume. 
 
 Think of this, my good friend, and as you have kind 
 affections to make some good girl happy, settle yourself 
 in life while you are young, and lay up, by so doing, a 
 stock of domestic happiness, against age or bodily decay. 
 There are many good things in life, whatever satirists 
 
114 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 and misanthropes may say to the contrary; but probably 
 the best of all, next to a conscience void of offence (but 
 without which, by the by, they can hardly exist,) are the 
 quiet exercise and enjoyment of the social feelings, in 
 which we are at once happy in ourselves, and the cause 
 of happiness to those who are dearest to us. 
 
 If a young man deserves praise be sure and give it to 
 him, else you not only run a chance of driving him from 
 the right road for want of encouragement, but deprive 
 yourself of the happiest privilege you will ever have of 
 rewarding his labor. For it is only the young who can 
 receive much reward from men's praise. The old, when 
 they are great, get too far beyond and above what you 
 may think of them. You may urge them with acclama- 
 tion, but they will doubt your pleasure and despise your 
 praise. You might have cheered them in their race 
 through the asphodel meadows of their youth ; you might 
 have brought the proud, bright scarlet to their faces if 
 you had cried but once, "Well done!" as they dashed 
 up the first goal of their early ambition. But now their 
 pleasure is memory, and their ambition is in heaven. 
 They can be kind to you, and you can never more be 
 kind to them. 
 
 TRUE MANLINESS. 
 
 Sociality is to man what modesty is to woman ; it is a 
 principle that should be ever active, but governed by 
 occasion and consistency. A lack of this betrays at once 
 a deficiency in true manliness. Not so much depends 
 upon a power or faculty as upon its proper exercise; and 
 when this is abused, there is a great depreciation of its 
 beauties. To the young man just entering the most im- 
 portant portion of his existence — the formation of a 
 worthy name and character — it is well that he should 
 first learn that society corrupts as it is corrupt — that it 
 forms or moulds principles by a gradual or accelerated 
 progress according to the degree of its influence. There- 
 
TRUE MANLINESS. 115 
 
 fore, there is no danger in being too particular in the 
 selection of society, and in estimating the weight of its 
 various associations. 
 
 Just and discriminating ideas generally lead to proper 
 action, and a willing judgment enforces a strict adherence 
 to the rules of propriety. Stupid, yes presumptuous must 
 that young man be who would peril every consideration 
 for a good character upon a base act, simply because he 
 cannot see at once the true tendency of a consistent 
 course of life. But it can be seen, and like the works of 
 a good man, will shine before the world, leaving a light 
 behind, and sending its arrowy beams into the future, to 
 guide life's wandering steps aright. 
 
 Deportment, honesty, caution, and a desire to do right 
 carried out in practice, are to human character what 
 truth, reverence, and love are to religion. They are the 
 unvaried elements of a good reputation. Such virtues 
 can never be reproached, although the vulgar and des- 
 picable may scoff at them ; but it is not so much in their 
 affected revulsion at them, as it is in the wish to reduce 
 them to the standard of their own degraded natures, and 
 vitiated passions. Let such scoff and sneer, — let them 
 laugh and ridicule as much as they may, — a strict, up- 
 right, onward course will evince to the world and to 
 them, that there is more manly independence in one for- 
 giving smile, than in all the pretended exceptions to 
 worthiness in the society of the mean and vulgar. Virtue 
 must have its admirers, and firmness of principle, both 
 moral and religious, will ever command the proudest 
 encomium of the intelligent world, to the exclusion of 
 every other thing connected with human existence. 
 
 Man is to be rated, not by his hoards of gold, not by 
 the simple or temporary influence he may for a time 
 exert; but by his unexceptionable principles relative 
 both to character and religion. Strike out these, and 
 what is he ? A brute without a virtue — a savage with- 
 out a sympathy ! Take them away and his manshift is 
 gone ; he no longer lives in the image of his Maker ! A 
 cloud of sin hangs darkly on his brow ; there is ever a 
 tempest on his countenance, the lightning in his glance, 
 
116 SELF STUDY KNOW THYSELF. 
 
 the thunder in words, and the rain and whirlwind in the 
 breathing of his angry soul. No smile gladdens his lip to 
 tell that love is playing there ; no sympathizing glow 
 illuminates his cheek. Every word burns with malice, 
 and that voice — the mystic gift of Heaven — grates as 
 harshly on the timid ear, as rushing thunders beating 
 amid falling cliffs and tumbling cataracts. 
 
 But this is too dark a picture for a long continued 
 view. Turn we from it now, as from a frightful scene, 
 to the only divine image that Virtue elevates before the 
 world for example and imitation. Let man go abroad 
 with just principles, and what is he ? An exhaustless 
 fountain in a vast desert ! A glorious sun shining ever — 
 dispelling every vestige of darkness ! There is love ani- 
 mating his heart, sympathy breathing in every tone. 
 Tears of pity — dew drops of the soul — gather in his eye, 
 and gush impetuously down his cheek. Quivering on 
 his lips are words that wait for utterance, and thoughts, 
 winged as with lightning, play amid his tell-tale glances. 
 A good man is abroad and the world knows and feels it. 
 Beneath his smile lurks no degrading passion ; within 
 his heart there slumbers no guile. He is not exalted in 
 mortal pride — not elevated in his own views, but honest, 
 moral and virtuous before the world. He stands throned 
 on truth, his fortress is wisdom and his dominion is the 
 vast and limitless universe. Always upright, kind and 
 sympathizing, always attached to just principles and actu- 
 ated by the same, governed by the highest motives in 
 doing good — these are Ms only true manliness. 
 
 SELF-STUDY— KNOW THYSELF. 
 
 There is nothing that helps a man in his conduct 
 through life more than a knowledge of his own charac- 
 teristic weaknesses, which, guarded against, become his 
 strength, as there is nothing that tends more to the suc- 
 cess of a man's talents than his knowing the limits of his 
 faculties, which are thus concentrated on some practical 
 object. One man can do but one thing well. Universal 
 
SELF-STUDY k^OW THYSELF. 117 
 
 pretentions end in nothing. " It is a deplorable condi- 
 tion," says Bishop Sherloch, " to be always doing what 
 we are always condemning." The reproaches of others 
 are painful enough. But when the lash is laid on by our 
 own hand, the anguish is intolerable. How cheering, 
 on the contrary, even in the deepest night of calamity, 
 when conscience calls out from her watch-tower in the 
 soul— AW 8 Well! 
 
 When we are alone we have our thoughts to watch, in 
 our families, our tempers, and in society our tongues. 
 When you have no observers be afraid of yourself. 
 Observe yourself as your greatest enemy ; so shall you 
 become your greatest friend. You may gain applause 
 by one great, wise or fortunate action ; to avoid censure, 
 you must pass a whole life without saying or doing one 
 bad or foolish thing. 
 
 Would you know your neighbor's opinion of you, 
 mark how his children treat you. 
 
 To be great is to be good, to be good is to be wise, 
 and to be wise is to know thyself. " Know thyself" is 
 a precept which, we are informed, descended from 
 Heaven. It is a noble science to know one's self; and 
 a noble courage, to know how to yield. 
 
 The Arabs have a proverb, " The moment a man is 
 satisfied with himself, everybody else is dissatisfisd with 
 him." We have weak points both by birth and educa- 
 tion, and it may be questioned which of the two give us 
 the most trouble. If we were as careful to polish our 
 manners as our teeth, to make our temper sweet as our 
 breath, to cut off our faults as to pare our nails, to be 
 upright in character as in person, to shave our souls as 
 to shave our chin, what an immaculate race we should 
 become ! Many a man thinks it is a virtue that keeps 
 him from turning rascal, when it is only a full stomach. 
 One should be careful and not mistake potatoes for prin- 
 ciples. If it is difficult to see any fault in a child, or a 
 book, or a pudding, or any one we love, how much more 
 so that we should see any in ourselves ! 
 
 A man should never glory in that which is common to 
 a beast, nor a wise man in that which is common to a 
 
118 SELF-STUDY KNOW THYSELF. 
 
 fool, nor a good man in that which is common to a wicked 
 man. Other men's woes are our warnings ; their deso- 
 lation should be our information. Rather avoid those 
 vices you are naturally inclined to, says Cicero, than aim 
 at those excellencies and perfections which you were 
 never made for. 
 
 Discourses of morality, and reflections upon human 
 nature, are the best means we can make use of to improve 
 our minds, and gain a true knowledge of ourselves ; and 
 consequently to recover our souls out of the vice, the 
 ignorance, and the prejudice, which naturally cleave to 
 them. 
 
 There are looking-glasses for the face, but none for 
 the mind. That defect must be supplied then by a seri- 
 ous reflection upon one's self. When the eternal image 
 escapes, let the internal retain and correct it. Self- 
 examination is the only true looking-glass. 
 
 When a man perfectly understands himself, mentally, 
 and physically, and morally, his road to happiness is 
 smooth, and society has a strong guarantee for his good 
 conduct and usefulness. Some, by attempting what they 
 can never accomplish, lose the opportunity of doing 
 what they might, and are oftener perplexed than bene- 
 fited by their tolly. All our knowledge is wisely to 
 know. 
 
 Self-love is not so great a sin as self-neglecting. Wind 
 up your conduct like a watch every day, examining 
 minutely whether you run fast or slow. He is the best 
 accountant who can count up correctly the sum of his 
 own error. There is a Gaelic proverb, u If the best 
 man's faults were written on his forehead, it would make 
 him pull his hat over his eyes." There is no man who 
 would not be mortified it he knew what his friends 
 thought of him. He that communes with himself in 
 private will learn truths that the multitude will not tell 
 him. The world does not know a fool's infirmities half 
 so well as a wise man knows his own. 
 
 He that sees ever so accurately, ever so nicely into the 
 motives of other people's acting, may possibly be entirely 
 ignorant as to his own : it is by the mental as the cor- 
 
SELF- STUDY KNOW THYSELF. 119 
 
 poreal eye, the object may be placed too near the sight 
 to be seen truly, as well as too far off'; nay too near to 
 be seen at all. u When I was a boy," said an old man, 
 " we had a school-master who had an odd way of catch- 
 ing idle boys. One day he called out to us : ' Boys, I 
 must have closer attention to your books. The first one 
 of you that sees another boy idle, I want you to inform 
 me, and I will attend to the case.' ' Ah! thought I to 
 myself, there is Joe Simmons that I don't like, I'll watch 
 him, and if I see him look off his book I'll tell.' It was 
 not long before I saw Joe look off his book, and immedi- 
 ately I informed the master. 'Indeed,' said he, 'how 
 did you know he was idle ?' 'I saw him,' said I. 'You 
 did; and were your eyes on your book when you saw 
 him ?' I was caught, and I never after watched for idle 
 boys." If we are sufficiently watchful over our own con- 
 duct, we will find no time to find fault with the conduct 
 of others. 
 
 Nature, that we may not be disgusted and discouraged 
 with beholding our own internal deformities, has wisely 
 and kindly turned the sight of our eyes entirely outward. 
 In order to live justly, and be respected we must refrain 
 from doing that which we blame in others. When the 
 furious Orson saw his own image reflected from his 
 brother's shield, he started back and stayed his blow ; 
 and many of our own attacks on our brother's faults 
 might be arrested, if there were a mirror on his bosom 
 to show us our own likeness there. You had better find 
 out one of your own weaknesses than ten of your 
 neighbors. 
 
 Says Plutarch, our industrious search and inquiries 
 should chiefly be employed about our own affairs at 
 home ; for here we shall find so many offenses in our 
 conversation, such variety of perturbation in our souls 
 and manifest failures in our duty, that it will take up so 
 much time to reform them, as not to leave us any leisure 
 to be impertinent or ill-natured in remarking upon the 
 faults of others. 
 
 He learns much who studies other men ; he also learns 
 more who studies himself. If you would find a great 
 
120 THE HEART. 
 
 many faults, be on the lookout. If you would find them 
 in still greater abundance, be on the look in. Forgetting 
 one's self, or knowing one's self, — around these every- 
 thing turns. Resist yourself and you shall have peace. 
 Know thyself. Be contented with thy lot. It is a maxim 
 of the Chinese, " Sweep the snow from before your own 
 door, and never mind the frost on your neighbor's roof." 
 If disposed to be exacting let your heaviest demands be 
 made upon yourself. Observe what directions your 
 thoughts and feelings most readily take when you are 
 alone, and you will then form a tolerably correct opinion 
 of your real state. Many persons have quickness to dis- 
 cover their faults who have not energy enough to eradi- 
 cate them. 
 
 " If one speaks ill of thee," said Epictetus, "considei 
 whether he hath truth on his side, and if so, reform thy- 
 self, that his censures may not affect thee." When An- 
 aximander was told that the very boys laughed at his 
 singing, " Ah," said he, " then I must learn to sing 
 better." Plato, being told that he had many enemies 
 who spoke ill of him, said "I shall live so that none will 
 believe them." Hearing at another time that an intimate 
 friend of his had spoken detractingly of him, he said, " I 
 am sure he would not do it if he had not some reason 
 for it." This is the surest, as well as the noblest way of 
 drawing the sting out of a reproach, and the true method 
 of preparing a man for that great and only relief against 
 the pains of calumny. 
 
 To be despised or blamed by an incompetent or un- 
 candid judge may give a momentary pain, but ought not 
 to make one unhappy. 
 
 Consider, dear reader not so much what thou art, as 
 what thou shalt be. 
 
 THE HEART. 
 
 Of all beings in this world, the greatest is man, and 
 what is greatest in man is his heart. A man's force in 
 the world, other things being equal, is just in the ratio 
 of the force and strength of his heart. A full-hearted 
 
THE HEART. 121 
 
 man is always a powerful man ; if he be erroneous, then 
 he is powerful for error; if the thing is in his heart, he 
 is sure to make it notorious, even though it may be a 
 downright falsehood. Let a man be ever so ignorant, 
 still if his heart be full of love to the cause, he becomes 
 a powerful man for that object, because he has heart- 
 power, heart-force. A man may be deficient in many of 
 the advantages of education, in many of those niceties 
 which are so much looked upon in society ; but once 
 give him a strong heart that beats hard, and there is no 
 mistake about his power. Let him have a heart that is 
 right full up to the brim with an object, and that man 
 will do the thing, or else he will die gloriously defeated, 
 and will glory in his defeat. Heart is power. 
 
 He who has a stout heart will do stout-hearted actions 
 — actions which, however unconscious the doer may be 
 of the fact, cannot fail to have something of immortality 
 in the essence ; something that in all coming time will 
 preserve alive their memory and cause them to blos- 
 som long after the valiant doer of them has lain in dust. 
 Such a man will not be daunted by difficulties. Opposi- 
 tion will but serve as fuel to the fire which feeds the 
 spirit of self help within him, stimulating him to still 
 greater efforts, and, in fact creating opportunities for 
 them. And though in the nature of things failures must 
 often be his portion, and even success will alike nerve 
 him anew for the struggle, and endue him with courage 
 to meet the further disappointments which past experi- 
 ence will have taught him are likely to be his lot. Neither 
 will he, in his efforts to attain some great end, to bring 
 to happy accomplishment some noble work, be daunted 
 by the reflection that he never can be sure of success, 
 even in enterprises springing from the highest motives 
 and steadfastly pursued at the cost of all that is dearest. 
 To him it will suffice that the end he has in view is a right 
 one, and that if he is not destined to accomplish it, eventu- 
 ally it must triumph. With prophetic eye he looks for- 
 ward to the dawning of the time, when, long after he has 
 been called hence, posterity shall enter into his labor 
 and taste the fruits of the tree which he has planted. 
 
122 
 
 THE HEART. 
 
 It was long supposed that the brain was the only organ 
 of living sensibility, but an eminent physician, Dr. Lee, 
 discovered, and it is one of the most brilliant discoveries 
 of the age, that the heart is the seat of nervous sensibility 
 in the highest degree, and therefore, that the Bible, when 
 it speaks of the heart-broken, the heart- sorrowing, the 
 heart-grieving, the heart-bleeding, does not use language 
 unwarranted by physiological science, but what the 
 recent discoveries of that science have demonstrated to 
 be literally true ; ripe science falling into harmony with 
 fixed and sure revelation. 
 
 It is the vice of the age to substitute learning for wis- 
 dom — to educate the head, and forget that there is a 
 more important education necessary for the heart. The 
 reason is cultivated at an age when nature does not fur- 
 nish the elements necessary to a successful cultivation of 
 it ; and the child is solicited to reflection when he is only 
 capable of sensation and emotion. In infancy, the atten- 
 tion and the memory are only excited strongly by things 
 which impress the senses and move the heart, and a 
 father shall instill more solid and available instruction in 
 an hour spent in the fields, where wisdom and goodness 
 are exemplified, seen and felt, than in a month spent in 
 the study, where they are expounded in stereotype 
 aphorisms. 
 
 No physician doubts that precocious children, in fifty 
 cases for one, are much worse for the discipline they have 
 undergone. The mind seems to have been strained, and 
 the foundations for insanity are laid. When the studies 
 of maturer years are stuffed into the child's head, people 
 do not reflect on the anatomical fact that the brain of an 
 infant is not the brain of a man ; that the one is con- 
 firmed and can bear exertion — the other is growing up, 
 and requires repose ; that to force the attention to ab- 
 stract facts — to load the memory with chronological 
 and historical or scientific detail — in short, to expect a 
 child's brain to bear the exertion of a man's, is just as 
 rational as it would be to hazard the same sort of experi- 
 ment on its muscles. 
 
 The first eight or ten years of life should be devoted 
 
THE HEART. 123 
 
 to the education of the heart — to the formation of princi- 
 ple rather than to the acquirement of what is usually 
 termed knowledge. Nature herself points out such a 
 course : for the emotions are the liveliest, and most easily 
 moulded, being as yet unalloyed by passion. It is from 
 this source that the mass of men are hereafter to draw 
 their sum of happiness or misery ; the actions of the im- 
 mense majority are, under all circumstances, determined 
 much more by feeling than reflection ; in truth, life pre- 
 sents an infinity of occasions where it is essential to 
 happiness that we should feel rightly ; very few where it 
 is at all necessary that we should think profoundly. 
 
 Up to the seventh year of life, very great changes are 
 going on in the structure of the brain, and demand, there- 
 fore, the utmost attention not to interrupt them by im- 
 proper or over- excitement. Just that degree of exercise 
 should be given to the brain at this period as is neces- 
 sary to its health, and the best is oral instruction, ex- 
 emplified by objects which strike the senses. 
 
 It is perhaps unnecessary to add that, at this period 
 of life, special attention should be given, both by parents 
 and teachers, to the physical development of the child. 
 Pure air and free exercise are indispensible, and wherever 
 either of these are withheld, the consequences will be 
 certain to extend themselves over the whole future life. 
 The seeds of protracted and hopeless suffering, in in- 
 numerable instances, have been sown into the constitution 
 of the child, simply through ignorance of this great 
 fundamental physical law ; and the time has come when 
 the united voice of these innocent victims should ascend, 
 " trumpet -tongued," to the ears of every parent and every 
 teacher in the land. "Give us free air and wholesome 
 exercise — leave us to develope our expanding energies 
 in accordance with the laws of our being — and give us 
 full scope for the elastic and bounding impulses of our 
 young blood." 
 
 Woe, woe for that mortal whose intellect outgrows his 
 moral sense, until the one stands dwarfed in the growing 
 shadow of the other. A being thus constituted is "no 
 less a monster," some one has said, " than the big-headed 
 
124 THE HEART. 
 
 child of the fair, or the weak-kneed giant of the circus." 
 Saturn eating his own children is a type of men of this 
 stamp. Humanity recoils from them when once they 
 unveil their remorseless egotism, their sublimated, sophis- 
 try. Yoltaire, Rosseau, Napoleon, Robespierre, were 
 monsters of this class, scarcely less hideous to me than 
 Caligula or Hellogabalus. Yet how attractive, until the 
 Mokanna veil is lifted, is its glittering light. 
 
 Let the heart be opened, and a thousand virtues will 
 rush in. There is a dew in one flower and not in another, 
 because one opens its cup and takes it in, while the other 
 closes itself and the drop runs off. God rains his good- 
 ness and mercy as widespread as the dew, and if we lack 
 them, it is because we will not open our hearts to re- 
 ceive them. Some hearts, like primroses, open most 
 beautifully in the shadow of life. Many flowers open to 
 the sun, but only one follows him constantly. Heart, be 
 thou the sunflower, not only open to receive God's 
 blessings, but constant in looking to him. 
 
 No man can tell whether he is rich or poor by turning 
 to his ledger. It is the heart that makes a man rich. He 
 is rich or poor according to what he is, not according to 
 what he has. Cultivate your heart aright, as well as 
 your farm ; and remember, whatsoever a man sows that 
 shall he reap. Feeling is a truer oracle than thought ; 
 hence women are oftener right than men. When the 
 heart is out of tune the tongue seldom goes right. Keep 
 thy heart with all diligence for out of it are the issues oi 
 life. 
 
 The heart is the workshop in which are forged secret 
 slanders, and all evil speaking. The mouth is only the 
 outer shop or salesroom where all the goods that are 
 made within are sold. The tongue is the salesman. 
 
 Some men employ their time in cultivating their farms, 
 some their heads, some in feeding their evil passions, 
 some cultivate their hearts. 
 
 As a physical heart is the center of life in the body, 
 so the sensibilities seem to give vitality to all the various 
 faculties of the mind. But if one of the ventricles of 
 that organ become impaired, the blood gradual!) ceases 
 
THE HEART. 12& 
 
 to now, and the body perishes. So if the sjJiritual heart 
 becomes irregular in its action the mind will be chaotic. 
 How often we meet with examples of this character in 
 the common walks of life. Many lose their balance of 
 mind and become wrecks from a want of heart-culture. 
 But how is this to be remedied ? We look in vain to 
 our educational system. That seems to be organized for 
 the express purpose of learning persons to think. Is the 
 head of more importance than the heart? It is true that 
 wealth is the child of the one, but it is equally true that 
 happiness is the offspring of the other. The heart must 
 be cultivated. It isindispensible to the happiness of our 
 race. The noblest struggles of humanity have been those 
 in which the feelings of the heart have come off triumph- 
 ant. Jefferson held that the victory of the American 
 Revolution was a victory of the heart. The rights of 
 men are too sacred for human calculation. 
 
 Some great men have been the terror of the age in 
 which they lived ; and left death and ruin in their path- 
 ways, because their hearts were uncultivated. Such were 
 Napoleon, Cesar, Hannibal and Alexander. But when> 
 we wish to contemplate noble characters, we point to 
 those who had hearts as well as heads. When will the 
 wisdom of Paul be forgotten, or the tenderness and love 
 of John cease to be venerated ? The memory of Luther 
 is very dear, because his heart was tried amidst the threats 
 and superstitions of a darker age. Milton is loved be- 
 cause misfortune made him a better man. The beauty 
 of a man's character depends very much upon the culture 
 of his heart. This placed Washington above Bacon, 
 and rendered Penn superior to Locke. 
 
 The man who is destitute of feeling can realize but a 
 small portion of Nature's bounties. True he may look 
 around him, and see the hills, trace their curves, calcu- 
 late their dimensions, take the dip of a rock, measure 
 the earth's strata, become acquainted with the laws of 
 motion, recognize colors, hear sounds, sail upon the waters, 
 and measure the distance between the planets — and yet 
 how cold and shivering is all this. It lacks those quali- 
 ties which give joy to life. Come, Heart, animate this 
 
126 THE HEART. 
 
 world of ours. Add feelings to thoughts. For what are 
 hills without grandeur and sublimity ? What are curves 
 without beauty and symmetry? Why measure the earth 
 and calculate the dimensions of the mountains, if it be 
 not to fill our hearts with love for the God of the hills 
 and the valleys, the islands and the continents, the earth 
 and the heavens. It is the heart that loves. It is the 
 heart that is filled with delight when we look upon rich 
 fields, green pastures and woodlands, filled with beauti- 
 ful flowers and singing birds. Everything that makes us 
 feel joyous and happy belongs to the heart. That man's 
 destiny is most glorious whose heart is most alive to the 
 good, the beautiful and the true. The cultivated heart is: 
 
 " The dwelling place of all 
 The heavenly virtues — Charity and Truth, 
 Humility, and Holiness, and Love." 
 
 It fills us with a charm, and seems to bring us in com- 
 munion with heaven. May we all, as we cultivate the 
 fields, and reap their golden harvests, also cultivate the 
 heart, and we shall reap a richer and more glorious harvest 
 for our souls to feed upon in another world. 
 
 Said an eminent minister recently, at the dedication of 
 a new mission building in New York city, " Great mis- 
 takes are sometimes made about the Gospel. Doing a 
 kindly act to a fellow- being, is religion as well as preach- 
 ing and praying. I would not, he said, give a copper 
 coin for the mere preaching in this chapel, if nothing else 
 were done — if the Gospel were not sent hissing hot from 
 warm hearts into the cellars and garrets of this locality. 
 I am firmly convinced that the grandest power on this 
 earth to-day is a warm human heart." 
 
 From my window I have many times watched, with 
 intense interest, the untiring efforts of a gardener, to rid 
 his garden of a little vine, which, if permitted to grow, 
 choked out all the good sown there. From time to time 
 he used many means, but to no effect, until he commenced 
 to root them out upon their first appearance. Just 
 so it is with our hearts ; we receive good impressions, 
 and in tears resolve to be made better by them, but we 
 are defeated and driven back with our own sword, for 
 
THE HEART. 127 
 
 the little sins we have almost unconsciously allowed to 
 remain there, spring up and choke out all the good, leav- 
 ing naught but fear and self- distrust, and in our confusion 
 we often resort to many means whereby we may over- 
 come, but to no purpose. Oh ! how wise it would be to 
 learn a lesson from the judicious gardener, remembering 
 that the only safe way to rid ourselves of besetting sins, 
 is to root them out from our hearts, for to retain is but to 
 cherish, and "he who would be wise, must be wise for 
 himself." 
 
 If we could only read each other's hearts, we should 
 be kinder to each other. If we knew the woes and bit- 
 terness and physical annoyances of our neighbors, we 
 should make allowances for them which we do not now. 
 We go about masked, uttering stereotyped sentiments, 
 hiding our heart-pangs and our headaches as carefully as 
 we can ; and yet we wonder that others do not discover 
 them by intuition. We cover our best feelings from the 
 light : we do not so conceal our resentments and our 
 dislikes, of which we are prone to be proud. Life is a 
 masquerade at which few unmask even to their very 
 dearest. And though there is need of much masking, 
 would to Heaven we dared show our real faces from 
 birth to death, for then some few at least would truly love 
 each other. 
 
 It is better to live in hearts than in houses. A change 
 of circumstances or a disobliging landlord may turn one 
 out of a house to which he has formed many attachments. 
 Removed from place to place is with many unavoidable 
 incidents in life. But one cannot be expelled from a true 
 and loving heart save by his own fault ; not yet always 
 by that, for affection clings tenaciously to its object in 
 spite of ill-desert; but go where he will, his home re- 
 mains in hearts which have learned to love him ; the roots 
 of affection are not torn out or destroyed by such re- 
 movals, but they remain fixed deep in the heart, clinging 
 still to the image of that object which they are more eager 
 to clasp. When one revisits the home of his childhood, 
 or the place of his happy abode in life's spring-time, plea- 
 sant as it is to survey each familiar spot, the house, the 
 
128 THE HEART. 
 
 garden, the trees planted by himself or by kindred now 
 sleeping in the dust, there is in the warm grasp of the 
 hand, in the melting of the eye, in the kind and earnest 
 salutation, in the tender solicitude for the comfort and 
 pleasure of his visit, a delight that no mere local object 
 of nature or art, no beautiful cottage, or shady rill, or 
 quiet grove, can possibly bestow. To be remembered, 
 to be loved, to live in hearts, that is one solace amid 
 earthly changes — this is a joy above all the pleasures of 
 scene and place. We love this spiritual home-feeling — 
 the union of hearts which death cannot destroy ; for it 
 augurs, if there be heart-purity as well as heart-affection, 
 an unchanging and imperishable abode in hearts now dear. 
 Cromwell was once engaged in a warm argument with 
 a lady on oratory, in which she maintained that elo- 
 quence could only be acquired by those who made it 
 their study from early youth, and their practice after- 
 wards. The Lord Protector, on the contrary, maintained 
 that there was an eloquence which sprang from the heart, 
 since, when that was deeply interested in the attainment 
 of any object, it never failed to supply a fluency and rich- 
 ness of expression, which would, in the comparison ren- 
 der vapid the studied speech of the most celebrated 
 orators. It happened, some days afterwards, that this lady 
 was thrown into a state bordering on destruction, by the 
 arrest and imprisonment of her husband who was con- 
 ducted to the Tower as a traitor to the government. The 
 agonized wife flew to the Lord Protector, rushed through 
 his guards, threw herself at his feet, and, with the most 
 pathetic eloquence pleaded for the life and innocence of 
 her injured husband. His highness maintained a severe 
 brow, till the petitioner, overpowered by the excess of 
 her feelings, and the energy with which she had expressed 
 them paused ; then his stern countenance relaxed into a 
 smile, and, extending to her an order for the immediate 
 liberation of her husband, he said, " I think all who have 
 witnessed this scene will vote on my side of the question, 
 in a dispute between us the other day, that the eloquence 
 of the heart is far above that mechanically acquired by 
 study." 
 
PRAISE. 129 
 
 PRAISE. 
 
 There is this good in commendation, that it helps to 
 confirm men in the practice of virtue. No obligation can 
 be of more force, than to render to eminent virtue its due 
 merit. Bulwer thinks we might praise more than we do. 
 He says : " No one can deny that animals in general, 
 and men in particular, are keenly susceptible to praise. 
 Nor is it a less common-place truism, that the desire of 
 approbation is at the root of those actions to which the 
 interest of the societies they are held to benefit or adorn 
 has conceded the character of virtue, and sought to stimu- 
 late by promise of renown. Yet, in our private inter- 
 course with our fellows, there is no instrument of power 
 over their affections or their conduct which we employ 
 with so grudging parsimony, as that which is the most 
 pleasing and efficacious of all. We are much more in- 
 clined to resort to its contrary, and, niggards of praise, 
 are prodigals of censure. For my own part, I think that 
 as a word of praise warms the heart towards him who be- 
 stows it and insensibly trains him who receives it to strive 
 after what is praiseworthy, and as our lesser faults may 
 be thus gently corrected by disciplining some counter 
 merits to strong and steadiei efforts to outgrow them — 
 so it is, on the whole, not more pleasant than wise to 
 keep any large expenditure of scolding for great occa- 
 sions, and carry about with us, for the common inter- 
 change of social life, the argent do poche of ready praise. 
 Scolding begets fear, praise nourishes love, and not only 
 are human hearts, as a general rule, more easily governed 
 by love than fear, but fear less often leads to the correc- 
 tion of faults and the struggle for merits, than towards 
 the cunning concealment of the one, and the sullen dis- 
 couragement of the other. .But let me be understood. 
 By praise I do not mean flattery ; I mean nothing insin- 
 cere. Insincerity alienates love and rots away authority. 
 Praise is worth nothing if it be not founded on truth. 
 But as no one within the pale of the law lives habitually 
 with miscreants in whom there is nothing to praise and 
 everything to censure, so the person with whom a man 
 
130 PRAISE. 
 
 tolerably honest is socially conversant must have some 
 good points, whatever be the number of bad ones. And 
 it is by appealing to and strengthening whatsoever is 
 good in them, that you may gradually stimulate and train 
 for the cure of what is evil that tendency of nature which, 
 in mind as in body, seeks to rid itself of aliments perni 
 cious to its health, in proportion, as its noble resource.- 
 are called forth, and its normal functions are righted by 
 being invigorated." 
 
 One of our old poets says : 
 
 " If I praised these men too much, 
 
 It was with purpose to have made them such." 
 
 And another represents the character as having taken 
 the hint : 
 
 " You make me so, 
 
 When you do think me such." 
 
 Another says : 
 
 " Flatteries oft' work as far 
 
 As counsels, and as high the endeavors raise." 
 
 It was elegantly said in a letter to Cardinal Richlieu : 
 "My lord, as there was, heretofore, a valiant man who 
 could not receive any wounds, but on the scars of those 
 he had already received ; so you can not be praised but 
 by repetitions ; seeing that truth, which has its bounds, 
 has said for you whatever falsehood, which "knows none, 
 has invented for others." In rendering praise, one great 
 difficulty is to keep the enthusiasm of the moment with- 
 in the limit of permanent opinion. The character of the 
 person who commends you, is to be considered before 
 you set a value upon his esteem. The wise man applauds 
 him whom he thinks most virtuous ; but the rest of the 
 world, him who 4s most wealthy. Men are not to be 
 judged by their looks, habits and appearances ; but by 
 the character of their lives and conversations, and by 
 their works. It is better that a man's own works, than 
 that another man's own words should praise him. 
 
 The love of praise is naturally implanted in our bosoms; 
 and it is a very difficult task to ge+ above a desire of it, 
 even for things th^t ^br.^A hr ^..liferent It is never 
 
FLATTERY. 131 
 
 best to fish for praise — it is not worth the bait. Those 
 who angle continually for praise get bitten oftener than 
 the bait does. The least praiseworthy are generally the 
 most covetous of praise. It has been said that, when men 
 abuse us, we should suspect ourselves ; when they praise 
 us, them. To be totally indifferent to praise or censure 
 is a real defect in character. To love our enemies, to 
 mind our own business, and to relieve the distressed, are 
 things oftener praised than practiced. When you can not 
 praise be silent, unless a manifest wrong calls for censure. 
 Praise not the unworthy on account of their wealth. 
 Praises of the unworthy are felt by ardent minds as rob- 
 beries of the deserving. Praise is valuable only when it 
 comes from lips that have the courage to condemn. Praise 
 is sometimes as hurtful as censure. It is as bad to be 
 blown into the air as to be cast into a pit. There are 
 compliments that censure, as there are satires that praise. 
 There are those who covet not only praise but the repu- 
 tation of despising it. 
 
 Never praise a man for being like a woman, nor a wo- 
 man for resembling a man. True praise takes root and 
 spreads. The highest panegyric that private virtue can 
 receive is the praise of servants. His praise is lost who 
 waits till all commend. A merit that is worthy of praise, 
 may be spoiled by praises. 
 
 FLATTERY. 
 
 That society is often based upon false principles, yield- 
 ing the palm of preference to those whose external ap- 
 pearance may be most pleasing to the artificial eye, is 
 clearly proved by the knowledge of the customs of almost 
 every people. The diamond often dazzles far more than 
 the lustre of mind ; while he, whose mind is stored with 
 useful knowledge and decorated in homelier attire, is often 
 excluded from the presence of those who would arrogate 
 to themselves all claims to superiority. But what is it 
 that has given the worthless and avaricious such a potent 
 charm, in keeping the artificial link of society bright? 
 
132 FLATTERY. 
 
 It is flattery ! The designing use this weapon when all 
 others fail. The miser pours it out upon those whose 
 purse he would shorten ; the politician deals liberally 
 with encomiums upon the people, from whom he derives 
 the emoluments or honor of office. The love of approba- 
 tion is innate in the constitution of man ; its sparks are 
 first kindled in the bosom of the cradled infant, glowing 
 with intense power, until manhood has developed its fac 
 ulties. Young has described it thus : 
 
 " The love of praise, howe'er concealed by art, 
 Reigns, more or less, and glows in every heart; 
 The proud to gain it, toils on toils endure ; 
 The modest shun it, but to make it sure. 
 O'er globes and sceptres, now on thrones it dwells, 
 Now trims the midnight lamp in college cells ; 
 'Tis tory, whig ; it plots, prays, preaches, pleads, 
 Harangues in senates, squeaks in masquerades, 
 It aids the dancer's heel, the writer's head, 
 And heaps the plain with mountains of the dead, 
 Nor ends with life, but nods in sable plumes, 
 Adorns our hearse, and natters on our tombs." 
 
 Such is the love of praise, and by a kind of instinct we 
 naturally think well of those who administer to our vanity, 
 and shun those who dwell on disparagements against us, 
 and who regard us with an envious eye. Thus it is that 
 the deceitful, by taking advantage of this frailty of human 
 nature, gain an ascendancy over our affections which 
 would have been produced by no other artifice. Many 
 a heart has bled with the arrow of Cupid, which was sent 
 upon its winged message by the breath of flattery ; many 
 a fire has glowed upon the alter of Hymen, which has 
 been fanned by its mystic influence ; but it never won 
 one sensible heart nor kindled one true fire! Neverthe- 
 less, it has left many a heart with an aching void, and 
 deceived many into regions of fancy who had been borne 
 upon its light, fluctuating wings. 
 
 Flattery is a sort of bad-money to which our vanity 
 gives currency. Kings never hear the voice of truth until 
 they are dethroned, nor beauties until they have abdicated 
 their charms. When some people make a great deal of 
 you, you may be sure they mean to make a great deal 
 out of you. A compliment is a thing frequently paid by 
 those who never pay anything else. 
 
FALSEHOOD. 133 
 
 The flatterer must act the very reverse of the physician, 
 administering the strongest dose only to the weakest 
 patient. We must suit the flattery to' the mind and taste 
 of the recipient ; we do not put essences into hogsheads 
 or porter into phials. 
 
 Flattery is like your shadow : it makes you neither 
 larger or smaller. 
 
 FALSEHOOD. 
 
 It is dangerous to deviate from the truth, even on the 
 most trifling occasion. However guileless may be our inten- 
 tions, the habit, if indulged, may take root, and gain on us 
 under the cover of various pretences, till it usurps a leading 
 influence on our conduct. Nothing appears so low and 
 mean as lying and dissimulation ; ancl it is observable, 
 that only weak animals endeavor to supply by craft the 
 defects of strength, which nature has not given them. 
 He that deceives his neighbor with lies, is unjust to him, 
 and cheats him out of the truth, to which he has a natu- 
 ral right. When a man hath forfeited the reputation of 
 his integrity, he is set fast ; and nothing will then serve 
 his turn, neither truth nor falsehood. There are lying 
 looks, as well as lying words ; dissembling smiles, deceiv- 
 ing signs, and even a lying silence. Not to intend what 
 you speak, is to give your heart the lie with your tongue ; 
 not to perform what you promise, is to give your tongue 
 the lie with your actions. 
 
 Plutarch calls lying the voice of a slave. There is no 
 vice, says Lord Bacon, that so covers a man with shame 
 as to be found false and perfidious. It is easy to tell a 
 lie, and hard to tell but a lie. One lie requires many 
 more to maintain it. Denying a fault doubles it. We 
 must not always speak all that we know — that would be 
 folly ; but what a man says should be what he thinks, other- 
 wise it is knavery. All a man can get by lying and dis- 
 sembling is, that he will not be believed when he speaks 
 the truth. A liar is subject to two misfortunes: neither 
 to believe nor be believed. If falsehood, says Montaigne, 
 
134 DECEPTION. 
 
 like truth, had but one face, we should be upon betier 
 terms; for we should then take the contrary from what 
 the liar says for certain truth. Since speech is the great 
 gift which distinguishes men from beasts, how unworthy are 
 they that falsify it ! No creature has deceitful cries, except 
 that animal bred on the banks of the Nile. It is only man 
 that perverts the use of his voice. Lying is a vice so very 
 infamous that the greatest liars cannot bear it in othei 
 men. Of all vices, lying is the meanest. No cause is 
 ever made better, but always worse, by a falsehood. 
 Even where detection does not follow, suspicion is always 
 created. Wrong is but falsehood put in practice. 
 
 The Chinese proverb says a lie has no legs, and can not 
 stand ; but it has wings and can fly far and wide. You 
 never can unite, though you may try ever so hard, the 
 antagonistic elements of truth and falsehood. Tiie man 
 that forgets a great deal that has happened, has a better 
 memory than he who remembers a great deal that never 
 happened. 
 
 DECEPTION. 
 
 There can not be a greater treachery, than first to raise 
 a confidence and then deceive it. A man can not be jus- 
 tified in deceiving, misleading or overreaching his neigh- 
 bor. That kind of deceit which is cunningly laid, and 
 smoothly carried on, under a disguise of friendship, is of 
 all others the most impious and detestable. Nothing can 
 be more unjust and ungenerous, than to play upon the 
 belief of a harmless person, to make him suffer for his 
 good opinion, and fare the worse for thinking me an 
 honest man. To betray is base. 
 
 " When devils will their blackest sins put on, 
 
 They do suggest at first with heavenly shows." — Shak. 
 
 One may smile, and smile, and be a villain. It would 
 be more obliging to say plainly, we can not do what is 
 desired, than to amuse people with fair words, which 
 often puts them upon false measures. Deceit goes for 
 false coin, and the deceiver for the coiner, which is still 
 
i DU FT il M © IR1T® 1AN©E 
 
DETRACTION. 135 
 
 worse, like counterfeit money, which, though a good man 
 may receive it, yet he ought not to pay it. When once a 
 concealment or deceit has been practiced in matters where 
 all should be fair and open as day, confidence can never 
 be restored any more than you can restore the white 
 bloom to the grape or plum that you have once press- 
 ed in your hand. One of the most painful feelings the 
 heart can know, is to learn the unworthiness of a person 
 who has hitherto shared our good opinion and protec- 
 tion ; we are at once mortified at our mistaken judgment, 
 and wounded in our affections. It is far happier to be 
 deceived than undeceived by those whom we love. 
 
 A false friend is like the shadow on a sun dial, appearing 
 in the sunshine, but disappearing in the shade. There 
 are three ways of getting rid of a false friend : one, by 
 telling him of his faults ; another, by asking his assist- 
 ance ; and the third, by lending him money, or conferring 
 some great obligation upon him. 
 
 Did men take as much care to mend as they do to con- 
 ceal their failings, they would both spare themselves that 
 trouble which dissimulation puts them to, and gain, over 
 and above, the commendations they aspire to by their 
 seeming virtues. All false practices and affectations of 
 knowledge are more odious to God, and deserve to be so 
 to men, than any want or defect of knowledge can be. 
 Let us not deceive ourselves. Men and women are never 
 more frequently outwitted than when they are trying to 
 outwit others. As you sow, so shall you reap. Any fool 
 may start a humbug, but it takes a genius to carry one 
 on. A man may see clearly through a woman's coquetry, 
 and yet fall a victim to it ; like the nightingale, which 
 sits on a tree and sees the net spread beneath, and yet 
 hops straight into it. The most deceitful are the most 
 suspectful. 
 
 DETRACTION. 
 
 He that praiseth bestows a favor, but he that detracts 
 commits a robbery. A good word is an easy obligation ; 
 but not to speak ill requires only our silence, which costs 
 
136 DETRACTION, 
 
 us nothing. Do not cultivate curiosity. Every man has 
 in his own life follies enough ; in his own mind troubles 
 enough; in the performance of his duties, deficiencies 
 enough ; without being curious about the affairs of others. 
 A man acquires more glory by defending than by accusing 
 others. 
 
 " Believe not each aspersing word, 
 
 As most weak persons do ; 
 But still believe that story false 
 
 Which ought not to be true." 
 
 Never listen to an infamous story handed you by a per- 
 son who is known to be an enemy to the person he is 
 defaming. Never condemn your neighbor unheard ; there 
 are always two ways of telling a story. Hear no ill of a 
 friend, nor speak any of an enemy. Believe not all you 
 hear, nor report all you believe. Be cautious in believ- 
 ing evil of others, but more cautious in reporting it. Ill 
 reports do harm to him that makes them, and to those 
 they are made to, as well as those they are made of. 
 There is seldom any thing uttered in malice, which 
 turns not to the hurt of the speaker. Believe nothing 
 against another but on good authority ; nor report 
 what may hurt another, unless it be a greater hurt to 
 others to conceal it. We are no more to hear calum- 
 nies than to report them. It is a sign of a bad reputa- 
 tion to take pleasure in blasting the credit of our neigh- 
 bors. He who sells his neighbor's credit at a low rate, 
 makes the market for another to buy his at the same 
 price. He that indulges himself in calumniating or 
 ridiculing the absent, plainly shows his company what 
 they may expect from him after he leaves them. 
 
 There is an odious spirit in some persons, who are bet- 
 ter pleased to detect a fault than to commend a virtue. 
 Some have a perfidious trick of ruining a man by com- 
 mendations; to praise for small things, that they may 
 disparage successfully for greater. It is the worst of 
 malice, says Plutarch, to intermix with reproaches some 
 praises, that the accusations may gain the firmer belief. 
 Many speak ill because they never learned to speak well. 
 
 It is observed that the most censorious are generally 
 the least judicious; who, having nothing to recommend 
 
SLANDER. 137 
 
 themselves, will be finding fault with others. No man 
 envies the merit of another, that has any of his own. 
 Every whisper of infamy is industriously circulated, every 
 hint of suspicion eagerly improved, and every failure of 
 conduct joyfully published, by those whose interest it is 
 that the eye and voice of the public should be employed 
 on any rather than on themselves. 
 
 A scandalous assertion, if made directly, can not fre- 
 quently be repeated, for the mode of its expression admits 
 of little variety ; whereas your implied scandal is capable 
 of being varied almost infinitely, and thus affords the 
 pleasant and continued opportunity of showing off the 
 ingenuity of the malicious man without vexing the dull 
 ear of the drowsy one. One general mark of an imposter 
 is that he outdoes the original. 
 
 SLANDER 
 
 He that shoots at the stars may hurt himself, but not 
 endanger them. When any man speaks ill of us, we are 
 to make use of it as a caution, without troubling ourselves 
 at the calumny. He is in a wretched case that values 
 himself upon other people's opinions, and depends upon 
 their judgment for the peace of his life. The contempt 
 of injurious words stifles them, but resentment revives 
 them. He that values himself upon conscience, not 
 opinion, never heeds reproaches. When I am ill spoken 
 of, I take it thus : if I have not deserved it, I am never 
 the worse ; if I have, I'll mend. Socrates, when informed 
 of some derogating speeches one had used concerning 
 him behind his back, made only this facetious reply, "Let 
 him beat me, too, when I am absent." Says Shakespeare: 
 
 " But words are words ; I never yet did hear, 
 That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear." 
 
 Has anybody said evil things of you ? Never mind it. 
 The abuse of some men is the best endorsement of integ- 
 rity. He who is not calumniated is commonly of too 
 little mental account to be worthy of it. Remember that it 
 js always the best fruit which the birds are pecking at, 
 
138 FRETTING AND GRUMBLING. 
 
 and that slanderers are like flies, which overlook all a 
 man's good garts in order to light upon his sores. All 
 men who do anything must expect a depreciation of their 
 efforts. It is the dirt which their chariot wheels throw 
 up. As a great body is not without a like shadow, neither 
 is any eminent virtue without eminent detraction. The 
 worthiest people are the most assailed by slander. 
 
 Henry Ward Beecher says : "Life would be a perpetual 
 flea hunt if a man were obliged to run down all the inu- 
 endoes, inveracities, the insinuations and suspicions which 
 are uttered against him." Dirt on the character, if un- 
 justly thrown, like dirt on the clothes, should be let ajkme 
 for a while till it dries, and then it will rub off easy 
 enough. Slander, like other poisons, when administered 
 in very heavy doses, is often thrown off by the intended 
 victim, and thus relieves where it was meant to kill. Dirt 
 sometimes acts like fuller's earth, defiling for the moment, 
 but purifying in the end. Yon cannot be permanently 
 injured by the malicious gossip of your neighbors. A 
 man who is inflexibly honest is safely shielded against the 
 darts of detraction. Live down calumny ; the best reply 
 to slanderous reports is a good life. A good life does 
 not always silence calumny, but it certainly disarms it. 
 
 FRETTING AND GRUMBLING. 
 
 It is not work that kills men, it is worry. Work is 
 healthy ; you can hardly put more on a man than he can 
 bear. Worry is rust upon the blade. It is not the revo- 
 lution that destroys the machinery, but the friction. Fear 
 secretes acids, but love and trust are sweet juices. The 
 man or woman who goes through the world grumbling 
 and (Vetting is not only violating the laws of God, but is 
 a sinner against the peace and harmony of society, and 
 is, and of right ought to be, shunned accordingly. 
 
 A fretting man or woman is one of the most unlovable 
 objects in the world. A wasp is a comfortable house 
 mate in comparison — it only stings when disturbed. But 
 an habitual fretter buzzes if he don't sting, with or with- 
 
FRETTING AND GRUMBLING. 13$ 
 
 out provocation. " It is better to dwell in the corner of 
 a house-top than with a brawling woman and in a wide 
 house." Children and servants cease to respect the au- 
 thority or obey the commands of a complaining, worri- 
 some, exacting parent or master. They know that 
 "barking dogs don't bite," and fretters don't strike, and 
 they conduct themselves accordingly. 
 
 Has a neighbor injured you ? 
 
 Don't fret— 
 You will yet come off the best ; 
 
 He's the most to answer for ; 
 Never mind it, let it rest, 
 
 Don't fret. 
 
 Has a horrid lie been told ? 
 
 Don't fret — 
 It will run itself to death, 
 
 If you will let it quite aloDe, 
 It will die for want of breath, 
 
 Don't fret. 
 
 A.re your enemies at work ? 
 
 Don't fret— 
 They can't injure you a whit : 
 
 If they find you heed them not, 
 They will soon be glad to quit; 
 
 Don't fret. 
 
 Is adversity your lot ? 
 
 Don't fret- 
 Fortune's wheels keep turning round: 
 
 Every spoke will reach the top, 
 Which like you is going down. 
 
 Don't fret. 
 
 Reforms are not instituted by growling and fault-finding. 
 There is an old fable of Esop's which shows how a wag- 
 oner who was bemired extricated himself. The hopeful 
 genius in question, immediately upon his accident, sat 
 down by the roadside and, bitterly bewailing his predica- 
 ment, called on Hercules to help him ; instead of doing 
 so Hercules gave advice, and told the man to put his own 
 shoulder to the wheel and help himself; in effect, to stop 
 grumbling and go to work. The wagoner did this, was 
 successful, and went on his way rejoicing. There are a 
 great many people in the world like the wagoner in this 
 fable. They are always in hot water, forever in trouble. 
 They throw the blame of their own misdeeds and want 
 of judgment upon others, and if one might believe them, 
 
i40 PEEVISHNESS. 
 
 society would be found in a shocking state. They rail at 
 everything, lofty or lowly, and when they have no grumb- 
 ling to do they begin to deprecate. They endeavor to 
 make good actions seem contemptible in other men's 
 eyes, and try to belittle every noble and praiseworthy 
 enterprise by casting suspicion upon the motives of those 
 connected with it. Such individuals, whether men or 
 women, are an incubus on any society, and the best way to 
 paralyze their efforts to create discord, is to ignore them 
 altogether. Let grumblers form a select circle by them- 
 selves. Let them herd together; give them the cold 
 shoulder when they appear, and make them uncomfort- 
 able during their sojourn, and if they can not be cured 
 they may be more easily endured, and perhaps discover 
 the error of their ways and reform. 
 
 An Englishman dearly likes, says Punch, to grumble, 
 no 'matter whether he be right or wrong, crying or laugh- 
 ing, working or playing, gaining a victory or smarting 
 under a national humiliation, paying or being paid — still 
 he must grumble, and, in fact, he is never so happy as 
 when he is grumbling ; and, supposing everything was 
 to our satisfaction, (though it says a great deal for our 
 power of assumption to assume any such absurd impossi- 
 bility), still he would grumble at the fact of there being 
 nothing for him to grumble about. 
 
 There are two things about which we should never 
 grumble : the first is that which we can not help, and the 
 other that which we can help. The croakers are not all 
 in the ponds, but they should be. 
 
 PEEVISHNESS. 
 
 Peevish people are always unjust, always exacting, 
 always dissatisfied. They claim everything of others, 
 yet receive their best efforts with petulance and disdain. 
 Such men complain, too, of being ill-treated by their fel- 
 lows. Ill-treated! The mildness of an angel and the 
 patience of a saint could not treat these sour-tempered 
 people in a manner that would satisfy them. The habit 
 
CHURLISHNESS. 141 
 
 of peevishness grows upon a person until it renders him 
 wholly incapable of conferring any happiness upon others. 
 It distorts the imagination, and disorders the mind, so 
 that truth cannot be distinguished from falsehood, or 
 friendship from enmity. It is one great source of envy 
 and discontent, poisoning the fountain of life, and scat- 
 tering ruin and desolation on every side. Those who 
 occupy their minds about anything serviceable to those 
 around them are seldom peevish; it is only those who 
 feed a disordered fancy with self-generated fiction, that 
 become misanthropic or grumblers. Then incessant fault- 
 finding arises, which is as annoying as it is unjust. Did 
 peevish people know, or could they feel, the effect of 
 their reproaches on others, those reproaches would never 
 be made. But the possessor of a peevish turn of mind 
 thinks of nothing but himself. For others he cares no- 
 thing ; while he claims the greatest deference for himself, 
 he will not defer to others in the slightest degree. 
 
 CHURLISHNESS. 
 
 Few characteristics are more unfortunate to the pos- 
 sessor than this — few more repulsive and annoying to 
 those with whom circumstances bring him in contact. 
 Various definitions of what constitutes the churl have 
 been given. His ugly temper and manner have furnished 
 a theme to the satirist, as well as the moralist, in all times. 
 In Isaiah he is described as a miser and a niggard. Lord. 
 Sidney portrayed him as a u rude, surly, ill-bred man." 
 To these epithets Lord Bacon has added "ill-grained." 
 But, although these definitions, as well as the etymology 
 of the term itself, point to the male sex as the exclusive 
 appropriators of churlishness, it would hardly do justice 
 either to man or the truth, to admit that it is so confined 
 in its malign range. For ourselves, we feel compelled to 
 say that some churlish people are women. It is possible 
 — even probable — that they impressed us the more un- 
 favorably because of being found in the gentler and more 
 kindly division of society, and therefore we are willing to 
 
142 CONTROVERSIES. 
 
 modify our expression of opinion, and say that they so 
 seemed to us. One cause, or at least encouragement, of 
 churlishness is the mistake which some people appear to 
 have made in confounding it with firmness. This is a 
 mistake which shoots very wide of the mark, indeed. 
 Firmness is a most praiseworthy quality of mind. Even 
 when carried to the verge of stubbornness, there is not, 
 necessarily, either wrong or rudeness in it. It may be 
 accompanied by due deference to the feelings of others, 
 and even with the courtesy of the Golden Rule itself. 
 Churlishness is a disposition very different from firmness. 
 The latter is heaven-approved. The former could only 
 find commendation where the spirit of Social Evil held 
 universal sway. Let the young avoid it, if they would 
 •experience happy and happifying lives ! 
 
 CONTROVERSIES. 
 
 Controversies, for the most part, leave truth in the 
 middle, and are factions at both ends. Victory always 
 inclines to him that contends the least. If your opinion 
 be indefensible, do not obstinately defend a bad cause. 
 He that argues against truth takes pains to be overcome. 
 It is an excellent rule to be observed in all disputes, that 
 men should give soft words, and hard arguments ; that 
 they should not so much strive to vex, as to convince 
 each other. Contradiction should awaken our attention 
 and care, but not our passion ; we should be on no side, 
 nor interest but that of truth. It is usually the case with 
 obstinate persons, to regard neither truth in contradict- 
 ing, nor benefit in disputing. Positiveness is a certain 
 evidence of weak judgment. In a speech delivered in a 
 public assembly, it is expected a man will use all his 
 reasons in the cause he handleth ; but in private persua- 
 sion, it is a great error. The surest way to persuade is 
 to please. Passionate pursuits darken reason, but seldom 
 enlighten our understanding. Contention benefits neither 
 party. Time, the greatest calmer of human passions, 
 softens the asperities of controversy. Wise and good 
 
QUARRELS. 143 
 
 men will avoid controversy and disputation, as far as they 
 can ; yet they must nof determine against them, or con- 
 demn them indiscriminately; for when false teachers 
 come in unawares to subvert men's souls ; when the fun- 
 damental truths of the Gospel are opposed or perverted, 
 and the principles of men are poisoned by pernicious 
 tenets; we ought to ''contend earnestly," (though in 
 meekness,) " for the faith once delivered to the saints," 
 and to decline controversy in such circumstances argues 
 lukewarmness and cowardice, rather than meekness and 
 wisdom. 
 
 QUARRELS. 
 
 The sourest cider is made from the apples of discord. 
 Family feuds, violated friendships, and litigation with 
 neighbors, are the banes of society. One unquiet, perverse 
 disposition, distempers the peace and unity of a whole 
 family or society ; as one jarring instrument will spoil a 
 whole concert. The quarrels of relatives are most vio- 
 lent. To avoid family quarrels, let the quarreling wretch 
 have it all to himself ; reply never a word. A quarrel is 
 like a spark, which can not be produced without a flint as 
 well as a steel; either of them may hammer on wood 
 forever, no fire will follow. Grandmother used to say 
 to grandfather, "It is no use quarreling, my dear, when 
 you know we must make it up again." He who espouses 
 a quarrel is not to be envied in his nuptials. Never fear 
 a man who threatens you with an injury; the silent 
 enemy is the most dangerous. Those who are ever ready 
 to give the lie are generally not too brave to take quietly 
 what they are not too civil to give. When two men dis- 
 pute, you may be sure that there is a fool upon one side 
 or the other; and the man who interferes between the 
 two is generally a greater fool than either. When you 
 dispute with a fool, he is very certain to be similarly em- 
 ployed. Two things well considered would prevent 
 many quarrels : first, to have it well ascertained whether 
 we are not disputing about terms rather than things ; and 
 
144 INSULTS. 
 
 secondly, to examine whether that on which we differ is 
 worth contending abont. In all differences, consider that 
 both you and your enemy are dropping off, and that ere 
 long your very memories will be extinguished. 
 
 INSULTS. 
 
 There are some people always looking out for slights. 
 They can not pay a visit, they can not receive a friend, 
 they can not carry on the daily intercourse of the family, 
 without suspecting some offense is designed. They are 
 as touchy as hair triggers. If they meet an acquaintance 
 in the street who happens to be pre-occupied with busi- 
 ness, they attribute his abstraction to some motive per- 
 sonal to themselves, and take umbrage accordingly. 
 They lay on others the fault of their own irritability. A 
 fit of indigestion makes them see impertinence in every 
 body they come into contact with. Innocent persons, 
 who never dreamed of giving offense, are astonished to 
 find some unfortunate word, or some momentary tacitur- 
 nity, has been mistaken for an insult. To say the least, 
 the habit is unfortunate. It is far wiser to take the more 
 charitable view of our fellow beings, and not suppose a 
 slight is intended, unless the neglect is open and direct. 
 After all, too, life takes its hue, in a great degree, from 
 the color of our own minds. If we are frank and gener- 
 ous, the world treats us kindly. If, on the contrary, we 
 are suspicious, men learn to be cold and cautious to us. 
 Let a person get the reputation of being touchy, and 
 every body is under more or less restraint in his or her 
 presence ; and in this way the chances of an imaginary 
 offense are vastly increased. Your people who fire up 
 easily miss a deal of happiness. Their jaundiced tempers 
 destroy their own comfort as well as that of their friends. 
 They have forever some fancied slight to brood over. 
 The sunny serene contentment of less selfish dispositions 
 never visits them. The narrower a soul is the more 
 easily it is crossed. 
 
 Solon, bein<r asked, Why, amongst his laws, there was 
 
INDIGNATION ANGER. 145 
 
 not one against personal affronts? answered, He could 
 not believe the world so fantastical as to regard them. 
 
 INDIGNATION. 
 
 We should be careful how we indulge in the feelings 
 of a virtuous indignation. It is the handsome brother of 
 anger and hatred. 
 
 ANGER. 
 
 There is no man obliged to live so free from passion 
 as not to show some resentment ; and it is rather stoical 
 stupidity than virtue, to do otherwise. Anger may glance 
 into the breast of a wise man, but rests only in the bosom 
 of fools. Fight hard against a hasty temper. Anger 
 will come, but resist it strongly. A spark may set a 
 house on fire. A fit of passion may give you cause to 
 mourn all the days of your life. Never revenge an in- 
 jury. When Socrates found in himself any disposition 
 to anger, he would check it by speaking low, in opposi- 
 tion to the motions of his displeasure. If you are con- 
 scious of being in a passion, keep your mouth shut, for 
 words increase it. Many a person has dropped dead in 
 a rage. Fits of anger bring fits of disease. u Whom the 
 gods would destroy they first make mad," and the exam- 
 ple is a good one for our imitation. If you would de- 
 molish an opponent in argument, first make him as mad 
 as you can. Dr. Fuller used to say that the heat of pas- 
 sion makes our souls to crack, and the devil creeps in at 
 the crevices. 
 
 A passionate temper renders a man unfit for advice, 
 deprives him of his reason, robs him of all that is either 
 great or noble in his nature ; it makes him unfit for con- 
 versation, destroys friendship, changes justice into cruelty, 
 and turns all order into confusion. Says Lord Bacon : 
 An angry man who suppresses his passions, thinks worse 
 than he speaks ; and an angry man that will chide, speaks 
 
 worse than he thinks. A wise man hath no more anger 
 10 
 
146 ANGER. 
 
 than is necessary to show that he can apprehend the first 
 wrong, nor any more revenge than justly to prevent a 
 second. One angry word sometimes raises a storm that 
 time itself can not allay. There is many a man whose 
 tongue might govern multitudes, if he could only govern 
 his tongue. He is the man of power who controls the 
 storms and tempests of his mind. He that will be angry 
 for anything, will be angry for nothing. As some are 
 often incensed without a cause, so they are apt to 
 continue their anger, lest it should appear to their dis- 
 grace to have begun without occasion. If we do not 
 subdue our anger it will subdue us. It is the second 
 word that makes the quarrel. That anger is not war- 
 rantable that hath seen two suns. One long anger, and 
 twenty short ones, have no very great difference. Our 
 passions are like the seas, agitable by the winds; and 
 as God hath set bounds to these, so should we to those * 
 so far shall thou go, and no farther. 
 
 Dr. Arnold once lost all patience with a dull scholar, 
 when the pupil looked up in his face and said: "Why do 
 you speak angrily, sir ? Indeed, I am doing the best I 
 can." Years after, the doctor used to tell the story to 
 his own children, and say : "I never felt so ashamed of 
 myself in my life. That look and that speech I have 
 never forgotten." It does no good to get angry. Some 
 sins have a seeming compensation or apology, a present 
 gratification of some sort, but anger has none. A man 
 feels no better for it. It is really a torment, and when 
 the storm of passion has cleared away, it leaves one to 
 see that he has been a fool. And he has made himself 
 a fool in the eyes of others too. Who thinks well of an 
 ill-natured, churlish man, who has to be approached in 
 the most guarded and cautious way ? Who wishes him 
 for a neighbor, or a partner in business ? He keeps ali 
 about him in nearly the same state of mind as if they 
 were living next door to a hornet's nest or a rabid ani- 
 mal. And as to prosperity in business, one gets along 
 no better for . getting angry. What if business is per- 
 plexing, and everything goes "by contraries!" Will a 
 fit of passion make the wind more propitious, the ground 
 

 ANGER. 147 
 
 more productive, the market more favorable? Will a 
 bad temper draw customers, pay notes, and make credi- 
 tors better natured ? If men, animals, or senseless mat- 
 ter cause trouble, will getting "mad" help matters? — 
 make men more subservient, brutes more docile, wood and 
 stone more tractable ? Any angry man adds nothing to 
 the welfare of society. He may do some good, but more 
 hurt. Heated passion makes him a firebrand, and it is a 
 wonder that he does not kindle flames of discord on every 
 hand. Without much sensibility, and often bereft of 
 reason, he speaketh like the piercing of a sword, and his 
 tongue is as an arrow shot out. He is a bad element in 
 any community, and his removal would furnish occasion 
 for a day of thanksgiving. Since, then, anger is useless, 
 disgraceful, without the least apology, and found 'only 
 in the bosom of fools,' why should it be indulged at all? 
 
 What men want of reason for their opinions, they are 
 apt to supply and make up in rage. The most irrecon- 
 cilable enmities grow from the most intimate friendships. 
 To be angry with a weak man is to prove that you are 
 not very strong yourself. It is much better to reprove 
 than to be angry secretly. Anger, says Pythagoras, be- 
 gins with folly and ends with repentance. 
 
 In sickness our distemper makes us loathe the most 
 natural meat; in anger, our fury makes us resist courte- 
 ous advice. 
 
 He that is angry with the just reprover kindles the fire 
 of the just avenger. Bad money cannot circulate through 
 the veins and arteries of trade. It is a great pity that 
 bad blood can circulate through the veins and arteries of 
 the human frame. It seems a pity that an angry man, 
 like the bees that leave their stings in the wounds they 
 make, could inflict only a single injury. And, to a cer- 
 tain extent, it is so, for anger has been compared to a 
 ruin, which, in falling upon its victims, breaks itself to 
 pieces. 
 
 Be not angry that you cannot make others as you wish 
 them to be, since you cannot make yourself what you 
 wish to be. 
 
148 RESENTMENT SUSPICION JEALOUSY. 
 
 RESENTMENT. 
 
 At every trifle scorn to take offense. Those who axe 
 careful to avoid offending others, are not apt to take 
 offense themselves. 
 
 If ever you hope that your charity should live after 
 you, then let resentment die before you. 
 
 SUSPICION. 
 
 The weak man is continually fluttering between suspi- 
 cion about the conduct of others, and vast surprise, even 
 if his suspicions are verified. The wise man is less 
 troubled by suspicions, and has read too much, and seen 
 too much, to be greatly surprised at anything when it 
 comes. Unprosperous persons are often suspicious : they 
 take everything as an affront. Suspicion is the palsy of 
 the heart: fear is a chain of ice upon the tongue. Half 
 words are worse than silence ; and either is death to con- 
 versation. A man, to be genuine, to be himself, must 
 believe and be believed ; must trust and be trusted., 
 The scowl of a doubt quenches the charm of conversation 
 as quickly as the shadow of a hawk does the song of a 
 bird. Suspicion is no less an enemy to virtue than to 
 happiness. He that is already corrupt is naturally suspi- 
 cious ; and he that becomes suspicious will quickly be 
 corrupt. Suspicion is the child of guilt. Suspicion is 
 the virtue of a coward. 
 
 " Suspicion haunts the guilty mind ; 
 The thief doth fear each bush an officer." 
 
 JEALOUSY. 
 
 Of all passions, jealousy is that which exacts the hardest 
 service, and pays the bitterest wages. Its service is, to 
 watch the success of our enemies ; its wages, to be sure 
 of it. Jealousy violates contracts — dissolves society — 
 breaks wedlock — betrays friends and neighbors — nobody 
 is good — and everyone is either doing or designing them 
 
JEALOUSY. 149 
 
 a mischief. Its rise is guilt or ill-nature, and by reflec- 
 tion it thinks its own faults to be other men's ; as he that 
 is overrun with the jaundice takes others to be yellow. 
 Avarice, ambition, terror, may have mercy ; but there is 
 one passion lurks within the human breast whose very 
 instinct is murder. Once lodged within the heart, for 
 life it rules — ascendant and alone ! it sports in the soli- 
 tude like an antic fiend ! It pants for blood, and rivers 
 will not sate its thirst. Minds strongest in worth and 
 valor stoop to meanness and disgrace before it. The 
 meanest soul — the weakest — it can give courage to, be- 
 yond the daring of despair ! What is the sting which no 
 balm can assuage? What is the wound that death 
 alone can heal ? Whose is the sword that, when once 
 drawn, the scabbard must be cast away forever ? When 
 is it that man has no ear but for the tale that falls like 
 molten lead upon his ear ; no eye but for the plucked- 
 out heart of him he hates ; no hand but for that clutch — 
 that one last clutch — that grasps his dagger ? Who is it 
 that has been wise, yet now will cast away reason ; was 
 kind and pitiful, yet now mimics the humanity of the 
 wild dog ? Who is it hews his foe to pieces — writes 
 "Acquittal" on his tomb — and dies? That wretch is 
 Jealous ! Pity him, whatever his crimes. The gamester, 
 whose last piece is lost — the merchant, whose whole risk 
 the sea has swallowed up — the child, whose air-bubble 
 has burst — may each create a bauble like the former ! 
 But he whose treasure was in woman's love ; who trust- 
 ed, as man once trusts, and was deceived ! — that hope 
 once gone ! — weep — search — rave — despair — seek thy- 
 self blind — there is again no finding — no restoring it! 
 Let not any too rigorously judge the conduct of a jeal- 
 ous woman or a jealous man. Remember that the maniac 
 suffers. To be sure, the suffering is from selfishness — 
 often it is without a shadow of a cause ; but still it is 
 suffering, and it is intense. Pity it — bear with it. You 
 may yourself fall into temptation. It is a sorer curse, a 
 more certain and fatal blight to the heart on which it 
 seizes, than it can be to those against whom its spite is 
 hurled. Then, while none should bend too far to the 
 
150 JEALOUSY. 
 
 whims of jealousy, all should be patient with its victims. 
 Jealousy is as cruel as the grave ; not the grave that 
 opens its deep bosom to receive and shelter from further 
 storms the worn and forlorn pilgrim who 'rejoices ex- 
 ceedingly and is glad' when he can find its repose, but 
 cruel as the grave is when it yawns and swallows down 
 from the lap of luxury, from the summit of fame, from 
 the bosom of love, the desire of many eyes and hearts. 
 Jealousy is a two headed asp, biting backwards and for 
 wards. Among the deadly things upon the earth or in 
 the sea, or flying through the deadly night air of mala- 
 rious regions, few are more noxious than is jealousy. 
 And of all mad passions, there is not one that has a vision 
 more distorted, or a more unreasonable fury. To the 
 jealous eye, white looks black, yellow looks green, and 
 the very sunshine turns deadly lurid. There is no inno- 
 cence, no justice, no generosity, that is not touched with 
 suspicion, save just the jealous person's own. And jeal- 
 ousy is an utter folly, for it helps nothing and saves no- 
 thing. If your friend's love is going, or gone to another, 
 will your making yourself hateful and vindictive stay it 
 or bring it back ? If it is not leaving you, is there no 
 risk in rendering yourself so unlovely ? 
 
 A woman is either worth a great deal or she is worth 
 nothing. If good for nothing, she is not worth getting 
 jealous for ; if she is a true woman, she will give no cause 
 for jealousy. A man is a brute to be jealous of a good 
 woman — a fool to be jealous of a worthless one ; but he 
 is a greater fool to cut his throat for either of them. 
 
 There is but one thing in conjugal life worse than a 
 jealous wife. The wife can tell what that is. 
 
 " Trifles light as air, 
 Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong 
 As proofs of holy writ." — Suae. 
 
 " They are not ever jealous for the cause, 
 But jealous for they are jealous : 'tis 
 Begot upon itself, born on itself." — Ibid. 
 
 " It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock 
 The meat it feeds on." — Ibid. 
 
ENVY. 151 
 
 ENVY. 
 
 It has been said that, if we knew how little others en- 
 joyed, it would rescue the world from one sin ; there 
 would be no such thing as envy upon earth. Envy is, 
 unquestionably, a high compliment, but a most ungra- 
 cious one. An envious man repines as much at the man- 
 ner in which his neighbors live, as if he maintained them. 
 Some people as much envy others a good name, as they 
 want it themselves ; and that is the reason of it. Envy 
 is fixed on merit ; and, like a sore eye, is offended with 
 anything that is bright. Envy increases in exact pro- 
 portion with fame, the man that makes a character makes 
 enemies. A radiant genius calls forth swarms of peevish, 
 biting, stinging insects, just as the sunshine awakens the 
 world of flies. Virtue is not secure against envy. Evil 
 men will lessen what they wont imitate. If a man is 
 good, he is envied ; if evil, himself is envious. Envious 
 people are doubly miserable, in being afflicted with 
 other's prosperity, and their own adversity. 
 
 '' Envy is but the smoke of low estate, 
 Ascending still against the fortunate." — Brooke. 
 
 It was Lord Bacon who said, A man that hath no vir 
 tue in himself envieth it in others. Montaigne says, Other 
 passions have objects to flatter them, and seem to content 
 and satisfy them for a while ; there is power in ambition, 
 pleasure in luxury, and pelf in covetousness ; but envy 
 can give nothing but vexation. Envy is so base and de- 
 testable, so vile in its origin, and so pernicious in its 
 effects, that the predominance of almost any other quality 
 is to be preferred. It is a passion so full of cowardice 
 and shame, that nobody eyer had the confidence to own 
 it. He that envieth maketh another man's virtue his 
 vice, and another's happiness his torment ; whereas, he 
 that rejoiceth at the prosperity of another, is partaker of 
 the same. The surest sign of a noble disposition, is to 
 have no envy in one's nature. To prevent envy, throw 
 away your finery and increase your goodness. Remem- 
 ber, envy is a sin that requires two to make, and in nine 
 cases out of ten you are one of two. 
 
152 HARSHNESS. 
 
 Envy, jealousy, scorpions and rattlesnakes, can be made 
 to sting themselves to death. He whose first emotion on 
 the view of an excellent production is to undervalue it, 
 will never have one of his own to show. 
 
 HARSHNESS. 
 
 He who glories in wounding others will finally wound 
 himself. A curse is like a stone thrown up to heaven, 
 and most likely to return on the head of him who throws 
 it. A hard person thinks it is enough if he does not 
 speak ill of your children or other relatives : and then, 
 with the greatest good will, and with a total inattention 
 to your individual position, he will gallop over a thou- 
 sand fine feelings and leave in every step the mark of his 
 hoofs upon your heart. If all unkind and unjust words 
 were arrows, like needles and pins; and if, instead of 
 piercing the ear and then the heart, they flew against the 
 bodies of those to whom they were directed, the children 
 in some men's families would be like pin-cushions stuck 
 full of sharp and painful weapons. "Don't write there,'' 
 said one to a lad who was writing with a diamond pin on 
 a pane of glass in the window of a hotel. ' u Why ?" said 
 he. "Because you can't rub it out." There are other 
 things which men should not do, because they cannot 
 rub them out : a heart is aching for sympathy, and a cold, 
 perhaps a heartless word is spoken. The impression may 
 be more durable than that of the diamond upon glass. 
 The inscription on the glass may be destroyed by the 
 fracture of the glass, but the impression on the heart may 
 last forever. On many a mind and many a heart there 
 are sad inscriptions, deeply engraved, which no effort can 
 erase. We should be careful what we write on the minds 
 of others. Vehemence creates dislike; excessive mild- 
 ness, contempt ; be neither so severe as to be hated, nor 
 so tame as to be insulted. Rough men have all their 
 seams on the outside ; and they rub against and incom- 
 mode those who come in contact with them. Ferocity 
 is sometimes assumed, as well as gentleness. There are 
 
 
HATRED. 153 
 
 as many sheep in wolves' clothing as there are wolves in 
 sheep's. It is the characteristic of weakness to be most sav- 
 age in utterance when least capable of execution. Rash 
 ness will admit of nought for reason, but what unreason- 
 able self shall dictate for reason. Say to a captious man 
 that it is a fine day, and he will be sure to suggest some 
 defect in it. He that can please nobody is not so much 
 to be pitied as he that nobody can please. 
 
 HATRED. 
 
 Four good mothers have given birth to four bad daugh- 
 ters : truth has produced hatred ; success, pride ; secu- 
 rity, danger ; and familiarity, contempt. And, on the 
 other hand, four bad mothers have produced as many 
 good daughters : for astronomy is the offspring of astrol- 
 ogy ; chemistry, of alchymy ; freedom, of oppression ; 
 patience, of long-suffering. Dislike what deserves it, but 
 never hate, for that is of the nature of malice, which is 
 applied to persons, not things. We ought to divest our- 
 selves of hatred, for the interest of our own quiet. We 
 often hate, we know not why, without examining either 
 the good or the bad qualities of the person ; and this sense- 
 less aversion of ours will sometimes fall upon men of ex- 
 traordinary merit. It is the business of reason to correct 
 this blind passion, which is a reproach to it ; for is there 
 anything more unjust, than to have an aversion to those 
 that are an honor to human nature ? It is far from be- 
 ing one of the best features of human nature, that, whilst 
 we love those whom we have benefited, we often hate 
 those who have benefited us. 
 
 A man should not allow himself to hate even his ene- 
 mies; because, if you indulge this passion in some oc- 
 casions, it will rise of itself in others; if you hate 
 your enemies, you will contract such a vicious habit of 
 mind, as, by degrees, will break out upon those who are 
 your friends, or to those who are indifferent to you. 
 
 The only hate we are apt to bear with christian pati- 
 ence, is the hate of those who envy us. There are two 
 
154 - REPREHENSION AND REPROOF. 
 
 things in which all, or nearly all sects agree — the hatred 
 with which they pursue the errors of others, and the love 
 with which they cling to their own. The hatred of those 
 who are the most nearly connected is the most inveter- 
 ate. At best, life is not very long. A few more smiles, 
 a few more tears, some pleasure, much pain, sunshine and 
 songs, clouds and darkness, hasty greetings, abrupt fare- 
 wells — then our little play will close, and injurer and in- 
 jured will pass away. Is it worth while to hate each 
 other ? 
 
 REPREHENSION AND REPROOF. 
 
 There is much discretion to be observed in reprehen- 
 sion : a word will do more with some than a blow with 
 others. U A Venice glass is not to be rubbed so hard as 
 a brazen kettle." The tender reed is more easily bowed 
 than the sturdy oak. Dashing storms do but destroy the 
 reed, while gentle showers nourish it. In reprehension we 
 should always beware of carrying our teeth in our tongues, 
 and of biting while we are speaking. Reprehension 
 should tread upon the heels of transgression. The plas- 
 ter should be applied as soon as the wound is received. 
 It is easier to extinguish a naming torch than a burning 
 house. Gentle medicine will serve for a recent distem- 
 per ; but chronic diseases require powerful remedies. 
 How securely would David have slept if Nathan had not 
 been sent to arouse him ! How far do many travel in 
 the downward road for want of a wholesome friend to 
 stop them in their journey. Private admonition is rather 
 a proof of benevolence than of malevolence. The flam- 
 ing sword of reprehension is but to keep us from the for- 
 bidden fruit of transgres&ion. Who knows how much 
 the majesty of a reprover may tame the insolence of an 
 offender ! Mark the reason which the Apostle assigns 
 for gentle reproof: Considering thyself, lest thou also be 
 tempted. Strive not with a man without cause. Blame 
 not before thou hast examined the truth.- Debate thy 
 cause with thy neighbor himself, and divulge not a secret. 
 
rN.ruRY. 155 
 
 Be not hasty in drawing conclusions to the prejudice of 
 another, before you form your opinion. Be perfectly 
 satisfied with the correctness of your judgment. How 
 many have heedlessly infused a drop of bitterness in the 
 cup of one already overflowing with grief. 
 
 " Regardless of wringing or breaking a heart, 
 Already to sorrow resigned !" 
 
 How many there are who check passion with passion, 
 and are very angry in reproving anger ! Thus, to lay 
 one devil they raise another ; and leave more work to be 
 undone than they found to be done. Such a reproof of 
 vice is a vice to be reproved. Reproof either hardens 
 or softens its object. The sword of reproof should be 
 drawn against the often se, and not against the offender. 
 Reprove not a scorner, lest he hate thee. Those who 
 merit praise can bear reproof best. 
 
 INJURY. 
 
 A little wrong done to another is a great injury done 
 to ourselves: The severest punishment of an injury, is 
 the conscience of having done it ; and no man suffers 
 more than he that is given over to the pain of repentance. 
 None more impatiently suffer injuries than those who are 
 most forward in doing them. He that is not above an 
 injury is below himself. The noblest remedy for inju- 
 ries is oblivion. Light injuries are made lighter by not 
 regarding them. It is better to forgive injuries than to 
 retaliate. 
 
 He is unwise and unhappy who never forgets the in- 
 juries he may have received ; they are indented on his 
 face, making the visage of the injured man frightful, like 
 neglected wounds inflicted upon the stately tree, and 
 which might have been effaced by the careful husband- 
 man. They come home to his heart like, when the sun- 
 shine of happiness would bless him, and throw him into a 
 tumult that not easily subsides. The demon of hate 
 reigns in his bosom, and makes him of all accountable 
 
156 EVIL. 
 
 creatures the most miserable. Have you been injured in 
 purse or character? Let the smiling angel of forgive- 
 ness find repose in your bosom, and you will be fully re- 
 venged, and what is of more consequence, your health 
 and peace of mind will be improved. 
 
 Better draw the cork of your indignation, and let it 
 foam and fume, than wire it down to turn sour and acrid 
 within. Sulks affect the liver, and are still worse for the 
 heart and soul. Wrath driven in is as dangerous to the 
 moral health as suppressed small-pox is to the animal 
 system. Dissipate it by reflecting on the mildness, 
 humility, and serenity, of better men than yourself, suf- 
 fering under greater wrongs than you have ever been 
 called upon to bear. 
 
 EVIL. 
 
 "Oftentimes to win us to our harm, 
 
 The instruments of darkness tell us truths, 
 Win us with honest trifles, to betray us 
 In deepest consequences " — Shaks. 
 
 Beware of the beginning of evil. Here is your chief 
 danger. It lies in venturing upon little indulgencies, 
 and sins ; upon slight violations of conscience and duty. 
 These are the germs of bad habits and ruined characters. 
 If once allowed to take root within you, to spring up 
 and bud, they will assuredly shed over your future years 
 the bitter fruit of sorrow and shame. The devil never 
 boldly enters the citadel of rectitude at the outset. He 
 first walks around and passes by ; then holds a parley, 
 and makes the worse appear the better reason ; and ends 
 by gaining permission to walk in just once, promising, 
 thenceforward, to cease his solicitations and keep aloof. 
 But once admitted, he goes artfully at work to destroy 
 all our defences, and, before we are aware of it, he is a 
 permanent occupant of the citadel. " Early perversion 
 of mind and morals," says Byron, "leads to satiety of 
 past pleasures and disappointment in new ones. Even 
 the beauties of nature, and the stimulus of travel, (ex- 
 cept ambition, the most powerful of all excitements,) are 
 
BAD TEMPER. 157 
 
 lost on a soul so constituted, or rather misdirected.' ■ If 
 you have been tempted into evil, fly from it ; it is not 
 falling into the water, but lying in it, that drowns. In 
 the commission of evil, fear no man so much as thy own 
 self. Another is but one witness against thee ; thou art 
 a thousand. Another thou may'st a^ oid, but thyself thou 
 canst not. Wickedness is its own punishment. The 
 evil which issues from the mouth falls into thy bosom. 
 A man with an evil habit fixed in his soul is as badly off 
 as a nut with a worm in its kernel. 
 
 No man can lay himself under an obligation to do an 
 ill thing. Pericles, when one of his friends importuned 
 his service in an unjust matter, excused himself, saying, 
 I am a friend as far as the alter. 
 
 A sinner can do much evil, but he can suffer none. 
 A saint can suffer much evil, but he will do none. There 
 are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil, to one 
 who is striking at the root. Evil spirits fight hard to 
 keep man in their societies, and under their influences. 
 
 BAD TEMPER. 
 
 A bad temper is a curse to the possessor, and its influ- 
 ence is most deadly, wherever it is found. It is allied to 
 martyrdom, to be obliged to live with cme of a complain 
 ing temper. To hear one perpetual round of complaint 
 and murmering, to have every pleasant thought scared 
 away by this evil spirit, is a sore trial. It is like the 
 sting of a scorpion, a perpetual nettle destroying your 
 peace, rendering life a perpetual burden. Its influence 
 is deadly ; and the purest and sweetest atmosphere is 
 contaminated into a deadly miasma, wherever this evil 
 genius prevails. It has been said truly, that while we 
 ought not to let the bad temper of others influence us, it 
 would be as unreasonable to spread a blister upon the 
 skin, and not expect it to draw, as to think of a family 
 not suffering because of the bad temper of any of its in- 
 mates. One string out of tune will destroy the music of 
 an instrument otherwise perfect ; so, if all the members 
 
158 BAD TEMPER. 
 
 of a church, neighborhood, and family, do not cultivate 
 a kind and affectionate temper, there will be discord and 
 every evil work. 
 
 Fools, lunarians, the weak-minded, and the ignorant are 
 irascible, impatient, and of ungovernable temper : great 
 hearts and wise, are calm, forgiving and serene. The 
 most imperturbable, and the ablest disputer of his age, 
 was the Scotchman, Henderson. When a glass of water 
 was thrown in his face, by the ungovernable rage into 
 which an antagonist had allowed himself to be thrown by 
 the anticipation of inevitable defeat, the Scotchman calm- 
 ly wiped his dripping cheeks, and remarked with a smile, 
 u That is a diversion : let us proceed with the argument." 
 It is said of one of the ablest men of a past century, that, 
 having completed the manuscript of a work which he had 
 been preparing for several years, he left his room for a 
 few moments to find, on returning, that a favorite little 
 dog had, in his absence, turned over the candle, and re- 
 duced his writings to ashes ; on observing which, he ex- 
 claimed, u 0h! Diamond, little dost thou know the injury 
 thou hast done;" and immediately set about the repara- 
 tion of the damages. Philip the Second, after having 
 sat up to a late hour in the night to complete some im- 
 portant state papers, waked up one of his drowsy secre- 
 taries, who was so flurried at this breach of duty, that he 
 dashed the contents of the inkstand over the manuscript, 
 instead of the sand box. u It would have been better to 
 have used the sand," was royalty's remark, on sitting 
 down to the reproduction of the document. Washing- 
 ton, when high in command, provoked a man to knock 
 him down. The next day he sent for the person to ap- 
 pear at headquarters, and asked his pardon ! for, in review- 
 ing the incidents of the case, he found that he was him- 
 self at fault. A magnanimity only possible to a truly 
 great mind; but it is a magnanimity, a self-control, a 
 mastery of temper, which it is a nobility to strive for. 
 
 Unsociable tempers are contracted in solitude, which 
 will in the end not fail of corrupting the understanding 
 as well as the manners, and of utterly disqualifying a 
 man for the satisfactions and duties of life. Men must 
 
MEDDLLSTG GOSSIP. 159 
 
 be taken as they are, and we neither make them or our- 
 selves better by flying from or quarreling with them. A 
 sensible woman, the mother of a young family, taught 
 her children, from the earliest childhood, to consider ill 
 humor as a disorder which was to be cured by physic. 
 Accordingly, she had always small doses ready, and the 
 little patients, whenever it was thought needful, took 
 rhubarb for the crossness. No punishment was required. 
 Peevishness or ill temper and rhubarb were associated 
 in their minds always as cause and effect. 
 
 MEDDLING. 
 
 Neglecting our own affairs and meddling with those 
 of others, are the sources of many troubles. Those who 
 blow the coals of other's strife, may chance to have the 
 sparks fly in their own faces. We think more of our- 
 selves than of others, but sometimes more for others than 
 ourselves. The folly of interfering betwixt man and wo- 
 man is thus gramatically put : 
 
 "When man and wife at odds fall out 
 
 Let syntax be your tutor ; 
 'Twixt masculine and feminine, 
 
 What should one he but neuter ? 
 
 GOSSIP. 
 
 The common fluency of speech, in many men, and 
 most women, is owing to a scarcity of matter, and a 
 scarcity of words ; for whoever is master of a language, 
 and has a mind full of ideas, will be apt, in speaking, to 
 hesitate upon the choice of both; whereas, common 
 speakers have only one set of ideas, and one set of words 
 to clothe them in; and these are always ready at the 
 mouth ; so people can come faster out of a church when it 
 is almost empty, than when a crowd is at the door. Gos- 
 sip is the bane of social life ; always indicating a little 
 mind having affinity with petty concerns ; often a mali- 
 cious mind, delighting in traducing others ; ineverance 
 
160 CENSURE. 
 
 for truth, risking the violation of it for the pleasure of 
 telling stories, which may be false, often are known to be 
 so ; great lack of honor, a sneaking disposition, saying 
 behind the back of another what would not be said be- 
 fore his face ; presumptive want of power to talk on no- 
 bler subjects — at least, lack of interest in them. Male 
 gossips are worse than female. Women gossip chiefly 
 about domestic life, love, marriage, flirtations, servants, 
 entertainments — and a world of mischief they do there 
 —of heart-burnings, heart- sighings, and heart-breakings 
 —of broken ties and alienated affections. But men gos- 
 sip, too. Oh ! what keen, biting, withering gossipings 
 they have — half untrue, wholly needless; full of envy, 
 hatred, and all uncharitableness. There is, perhaps, not 
 a more odious character in the world than that of a go- 
 between — by which, I mean, the creature who carries to 
 the ear of one neighbor every injurious observation that 
 happens to drop from the mouth of another. Such a 
 person is the slanderer's herald, and is altogether more 
 odious than the slanderer himself. By this vile officious- 
 ness he makes that poison effective which else would be 
 inert ; for three-fourths of the slanderers in the world 
 would never injure their object, except by the malice of 
 go-betweens, who, under the mask of a double friendship, 
 act the part of double traitor. The less business a man 
 has of his own, the more he attends to the business of 
 his neighbors. Busy-bodies are always idlers. Sweep 
 first before your own door, e're you sweep before your 
 neighbor's. 
 
 CENSURE. 
 
 Censure is the tax a man pays the public for being 
 eminent. It is folly for an eminent man to think of 
 escaping censure, and a weakness to be affected with it. 
 Maximus said, He was a greater coward that was afraid 
 of reproach, than he that would flee from his enemies. 
 The failings of good men are commonly more published 
 in the world than their good deeds ; and one fault of a 
 
FAULT FINDING. 161 
 
 well-deserving man will meet with more reproaches than 
 all his virtues, praise ; such is the force of ill-will and ill- 
 nature. It is harder to avoid censure than to gain ap- 
 plause : for this may be done by one great or wise action 
 in an age ; but, to escape censure, a man must pass his 
 whole life without saying or doing one ill or foolish thing. 
 Philip, of Macedon, said : He was beholden to the Athe- 
 nian orators for reproving him ; for he would endeavor, 
 both by words and actions, to make them liars. And 
 Plato, on hearing it was asserted by some persons, 
 that he was a very bad man, said, I shall take care to live 
 so that nobody will believe them. A clear conscience 
 fears no accusation. There is no contending with neces- 
 sity ; and we should be very tender how we censure 
 those that submit to it. It is one thing to be at liberty 
 to do what we will, and another thing to be tied up to 
 do what we must. Blame not before you understand the 
 matter : understand first, and then rebuke. They who 
 deserve most blame, are apt to blame first. Judge not 
 rashly. Alas! how unreasonable as well as unjust a thing 
 it is for any to censure the infirmities of another, when 
 we see that even good men are not able to dive through 
 the mystery of their own ! Be assured there can be but 
 little honesty, without thinking as well as possible of 
 of others, and there can be no safety without thinking 
 humbly and distrustfully of ourselves. It belongs not to 
 our humble and confined station to censure, but to adore, 
 submit and trust. 
 
 FAULT FINDING. 
 
 Never employ yourself to discover the faults of others 
 — look to your own. You had better find out one of 
 your own faults than ten of your neighbors. When a 
 thing does not suit you, think of some pleasant quality 
 in it. There is nothing so bad as it might be. When- 
 ever you catch yourself in' a fault-finding remark, say 
 some approving one in the same breath, and you will 
 soon be cured. Since the best of us have too many in 
 
162 FAULT FINDING. 
 
 firmities to answer for, says Dean Swift, we ought not to 
 be too severe upon those of others ; and, therefore, if 
 our brother is in trouble, we ought to help him, without 
 inquiring over seriously what produced it. 
 
 Those who have the fewest resources in themselves 
 naturally seek the food of their self-love elsewhere. The 
 most ignorant people find most to laugh at in strangers ; 
 scandal and satire prevail most in small places ; and the 
 propensity to ridicule the slightest or most palpable de- 
 viation from what we happen to approve, ceases with 
 the progress of common sense and decency. True worth 
 does not exult in the faults and deficiency of others ; as 
 true refinement turns away from grossness and deformity, 
 instead of being tempted to indulge in an unmanly tri- 
 umph over it. Raphael would not faint away at the 
 daubing of a sign-post, nor Homer hold his head higher 
 for being in the company of a "great bard." Real power, 
 real excellence does not seek for a foil in imperfection ; 
 nor fear contamination from coming in contact with that 
 which is coarse and homely. It reposes on itself, and is 
 equally free from envy and affectation. There are some 
 persons who seem to treasure up things that are disagree 
 able, on purpose. I can understand how a boy that never 
 had been taught better might carry torpedoes in his 
 pocket, and delight to throw them down at the feet of 
 passers rjy and see them bound ; but I can not understand 
 how an instructed and well-meaning person could do 
 such a thing. And yet there are men who carry tor- 
 pedoes all their life, and take pleasure in tossing them at 
 people. u 0h," they say, U I have something now, and 
 when I meet that man I will give it to him.' 1 And they 
 wait for the right company, and the right circumstances, 
 and then they out with the most disagreeable things. 
 And if they are remonstrated with, they say, "It is true," 
 as if that was a justification of their conduct. If God 
 should take all the things that are true of you, and make 
 a scourge of them, and whip you with it, you would be 
 the most miserable of men. But he does not use all the 
 truth on you. And is there no law of kindness ? Is 
 there no desire to please and profit men ? Have you a 
 
FAULT FINDING. 163 
 
 right to take any little story that you can pick up about 
 a man, and use it in such a way as to injure him, or give 
 him pain ? And yet, how many men there are that seem 
 to enjoy nothing so much as inflicting exquisite suffering 
 upon a man in this way, when he can not help himself ! 
 Well, you know just how the devil feels. Whenever he 
 has done anything wicked, and has made somebody very 
 unhappy, and laughs, he feels just as, for the time being, 
 you feel when you have done a cruel thing, and some- 
 body is hurt, and it does you good. 
 
 Many persons are particularly spiteful against those 
 foibles in others which they themselves have. They re- 
 mind us of a monkey scratching, and grinning at the 
 mimic monkey in the glass. Gotthold had a little dog, 
 which, when placed before a mirror, became instantly 
 enraged, and barked at his own image. He remarked 
 on the occasion : "In general, a mirror serves as an ex- 
 citement to self-love, whereas it stimulates this dog to 
 anger against itself. The animal can not conceive that 
 the figure it sees is only its own reflection, but fancies 
 that it is a strange dog, and therefore will not suffer it 
 to approach its master. This may remind us of an infir- 
 mity of our depraved hearts. We often complain of 
 others, and take offense at the things they do against us, 
 without reflecting that, for the most part, the blame lies 
 with ourselves. Men behave ill to us because we behave 
 ill to them. Our children are forward because they have 
 inherited and learned forwardness from us. We are an- 
 gry with them, yet they are our own image." Men look 
 at the faults of others with a telescope — at their own with 
 the same instrument reversed, or not at all. His good 
 deeds are never thought of, whereas his evil ones are 
 everywhere told and exagerated. It is so much easier 
 to see small faults than large virtues. "Having, in my 
 youth, notions of severe piety," says a celebrated Persian 
 writer, "I used to rise in the night to watch and pray, 
 and read the Koran. One night, as I was engaged in 
 these exercises, my father, a man of practical virtue, 
 awoke while I was reading." "Behold," said I to him, 
 "the other children are lost in irreligious slumber, while 
 
164 FAULT FINDING. 
 
 I alone awake to praise God." "Son of my soul," said he, 
 "it is better to sleep, than wake to mark the faults of thy 
 brethren." 
 
 There is as much wisdom in bearing with other peo- 
 ple's defects, as in being sensible of their good qualities ; 
 and we should make the follies of others rather a warn- 
 ing and instruction to ourselves, than a subject of mirth 
 and mockery of those that commit them. To judge im- 
 partially, we are to put men's good qualities in the bal- 
 ance against their bad ones ; and if the scales of the first 
 outweighs, the latter ought not to be brought into ac- 
 count. By the rules of justice, no man ought to be ridi- 
 culed for any imperfection, who does not set up for emi- 
 nent sufficiency in that wherein he is defective. If thou 
 would'st bear thy neighbor's faults, cast thy eyes upon 
 thine own. 
 
 It is easier to avoid a fault than to acquire a perfection. 
 By others' faults wise men correct their own. He that 
 contemns a small fault commits a great one. The great- 
 est of all faults is, to believe we have none. Little minds 
 ignore their own weakness, and carp at the defects of 
 the great; but great minds are sensible of their own 
 faults, and largely compassionate toward inferiors. 
 
 What a world of gossip would be prevented, if it was 
 only remembered, that a person who tells you the faults 
 of others intends to tell others of your faults. Every one 
 has his faults ; every man his ruling passion. The eye 
 that sees all things sees not itself. That man hath but 
 an ill life of it, who feeds himself with the faults and 
 frailties of other people. Were not curiosity the pur- 
 veyor, detraction would soon be starved into tame- 
 ness. 
 
 There are no such disagreeable people in the world as 
 those who are forever seeking their own improvement, 
 and disquieting themselves about this fault and that ; 
 while, on the other hand, there is an unconscious merit 
 which wins more good than all the theoretically virtuous 
 in the wide world. Those who speak of no deficiencies 
 in either themselves or others, but who are necessarily^ 
 
FEAR PREJUDICE. 165 
 
 modest, because they only take what their hands find to 
 do, and do it with their might. 
 
 FEAR. 
 
 There is but one way of fortifying the soul against all 
 gloomy presages and terrors of mind; and that is, by 
 securing to ourselves the friendship and protection of 
 that Being who disposes of events and governs futurity. 
 Tis the fancy, not the reason of things, that makes us so 
 uneasy. It is not the place, nor the condition, but the 
 mind alone, that can make anybody happy or miserable, 
 The apprehension of evil is many times worse than the 
 evil itself; and the ills a man fears he shall suffer, he suf- 
 fers in the very fear of them. 'Tis virtue only that re- 
 pels fear, and fear only that makes life troublesome. 
 
 Fear, unbalanced by hope, is desperation. Miseries 
 are endless, if we stand in fear of all possibilities. No- 
 thing has a more powerful effect on the heart than love 
 or fear : the former may smother life by sudden depres- 
 sion, and the latter drive it out by over excitement. 
 
 Fear is a prodigious magnifier, especially when it has 
 been excited by any unusual object. No traveler ever 
 saw a small tiger ; no landsman ever experienced a gale 
 at sea that was not a tornado. 
 
 PREJUDICE. 
 
 We hate some persons because we do not know them ; 
 and we will not know them, because we hate them. 
 Those friendships that succeed to such aversions are un- 
 usually firm, for those qualities must be sterling that 
 could not only gain our hearts but conquer our preju- 
 dices. But the misfortune is, that we carry these pre- 
 judices into things far more serious than our friendships. 
 Thus there are truths which some men despise, because 
 they have not examined, and which they will not ex- 
 amine because they despise. There is one single instance 
 on record where this kind of prejudice was overcome by 
 
166 ERROR. 
 
 a miracle ; — but the age of miracles is past, while that of 
 prejudice remains. Our passions and prejudices ever 
 mislead us. A curate and his wife had heard that the 
 moon was inhabited ; a telescope was borrowed, and the 
 lady had the first peep. " I see," said she, "I see two 
 shades inclining towards each other ; they are, beyond 
 doubt, happy lovers." u Poh!" said the curate, looking 
 in his turn, u these two shades are the two steeples of a 
 cathedral." All innovation upon established customs is 
 invariably and sturdily resisted, and men are known to 
 fight for their prejudices who would never fight for their 
 country. Prejudices are like rats, and a man's mind like 
 a trap ; they get in easily, and then perhaps can't get 
 out at all. 
 
 ERROR. 
 
 It is no diminution to have been in the wrong. Per- 
 fection is not the attribute of man. When a man owns 
 himself to be in an error, he does but tell you, in other 
 words, that he is wiser than* he was. No errors are so 
 trivial but they deserve to be mended, and no sin is so 
 slight but it should be repented of and renounced. Small 
 transgressions become great by frequent repetition ; as 
 small expenses, multiplied, insensibly waste a large re- 
 venue. A great part of mankind employ their first years 
 to make their last miserable. One false step, one wrong 
 habit, one corrupt companion, one loose principle, may 
 wreck all your prospects, and all the hopes of those who 
 love you. The error of one moment often becomes the 
 sorrow of a whole life. The best things, when corrupted, 
 become the worst. He that hinders not a mischief when 
 it is in his power is guilty of it. As the shadow follows 
 the body in the splendor of the fairest sunlight, so will 
 the wrong done to another pursue the soul in the hours 
 of prosperity. 
 
 The day is past when custom could procure acquies- 
 cence ; antiquity, reverence ; or power, obedience to er- 
 ror ; and, although error, and that of the most bold and 
 dangerous kind, has her worshipers in the very midst 
 
WASHINGTON IN THE WRONG. 167 
 
 of us, yet it is simply and solely because they mistake 
 error for truth. 
 
 " Thrice is he armed who hath his quarrel just; 
 And he but naked, though locked up in steel, 
 Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted." 
 
 "Truth, crushed to earth, will rise again : 
 
 The eternal years of God are hers ; 
 But error, wounded, writhes in pain, 
 
 And dies amid her worshipers." 
 
 WASHINGTON IN THE WRONG. 
 
 In 1754, Washington was stationed at Alexandria with 
 his regiment, the only one of the colony, of which he 
 was colonel. There happened to be at this time an elec- 
 tion in the town for the members of the Assembly, and 
 the contest ran high between Col. George Fairfax and 
 Mr. Elzey. Washington was a warm friend of Col. Fair- 
 fax, and Mr. Payne headed the friends of Mr. Elzey. A 
 dispute taking place in the court-house yard, Washing- 
 ton, at this time not twenty-two years of age, contrary 
 to his usual manner, became excited, and, what was still 
 more uncommon, said something that offended Mr. Payne, 
 whereupon the little gentleman, though but a cub in 
 size, raised his sturdy hickory, and by a single blow 
 brought him to the ground. Several of Washington's 
 officers being present they whipped out their irons in an 
 instant, and it was supposed there would be murder off- 
 hand. * To make bad worse, the members of the regi- 
 ment, hearing how their commander had been treated, 
 bolted out of the barracks, every man with his weapon, 
 threatening vengeance on those who had dared to knock 
 down their beloved commander. Happily for Mr. Payne 
 and his party, Washington recovered in time enough to 
 go out and meet his enraged soldiers, and after thanking 
 them for their expressions of attachment, assured them 
 that he was not hurt in the least, and begged them, as 
 they loved him and their duty, to return to their bar- 
 racks. As to Washington himself, he went to his room, 
 and finding, on maturer reflection, that he had been the 
 
168 EGOTISM. 
 
 aggressor, he determined to make Mr. Payne honorable 
 reparation by asking his pardon on the morrow. No 
 sooner had he made his noble resolution than he recov- 
 ered his natural calmness of manner, dressed himself, and 
 went to a ball, behaving as if nothing had happened. 
 The next day he went to the tavern and wrote a polite 
 note to Mr. Payne, requesting to see him. Mr. Payne 
 presumed the import of it was a challenge for a duel, 
 and repaired to the place appointed for the meeting, ex- 
 pecting to see a pair of pistols introduced. But con- 
 ceive his surprise when, upon entering the chamber where 
 Washington was, he discovered a decanter of wine and 
 glasses upon the table. Upon his entering, Washington 
 arose, and in a very friendly manner met him, and pre- 
 sented him his hand, saying: u Mr. Payne, to err some- 
 times is nature, to rectify error is always glory. I find 
 I was wrong in the affair of yesterday ; you have had, I 
 think, some satisfaction, and if you think that is suffi- 
 cient, here is my hand: let us befriends.' 1 It is only 
 necessary for us to say, that from that time Mr. Payne 
 became one of Washington's most enthusiastic admirers 
 and friends. If this conduct had not been deemed in 
 Washington to arise from magnanimity and not from 
 fear, then he could not have become the immortal hero 
 he is regarded in history. 
 
 EGOTISM. 
 
 When a man says, "I would not be egotistical," he 
 might as well add, " if I could help it." u We dislike 
 egotism in others," says Dr. Hebbard, u simply because 
 of our own. It is a slight when we are by, that one 
 should talk of himself or seek to entertain us with his 
 own interest instead of asking us of ours." There are 
 some men whose opposition can be reckoned upon against 
 everything that has not emanated from themselves. He 
 that falls in love with himself will have no rivals. The 
 reason why egotists find the world so ugly is because 
 
VANITY. 1 69 
 
 they only see themselves in it. An egotist is especially 
 hated by all other egotists. 
 
 "Self-love is not so great a sin as self -neglecting." — Sttaks. 
 
 VANITY. 
 
 Ostentation diminishes the merit of an action. He that 
 is vain enough to cry up himself, ought to be punished 
 with the silence of others. We soil the splendor of our 
 most beautiful actions by our vain-glorious magnifying 
 them. There is no vice or *blly that requires so much 
 nicety and skill to manage as vanity; nor any which by 
 ill management makes so contemptible a figure. The 
 desire of being thought wise, is often a hindrance to be- 
 ing so ; for such an one is more solicitous to let the world 
 see what knowledge he hath than to learn that which he 
 wants. Men are found to be vainer on account of those 
 qualities which they fondly believe they have, than of 
 those which they really have. Some would be thought 
 to do great things, who are but tools or instruments ; 
 like the fool who fancied he played upon the organ, 
 when he only drew the bellows. 
 
 Be not so greedy of popular applause, as to forget that 
 the same breath which blows up a tire may blow it out 
 again. Vanity, like laudanum, and other poisonous 
 medicines, is beneficial in small, though injurious in large 
 quantities. Be not vain of your want of vanity. When 
 you hear the phrase, "I may say without vanity," you 
 may be sure some characteristic vanity will follow in the 
 same breath. 
 
 Every man has as much vanity as he wants understand- 
 ing. How many women prefer ostentation to happiness ! 
 The vain man idolizes his own person, and here he is 
 wrong ; but he cannot bear his own company, and here 
 he is right. Pass through a crowd of boys busy with 
 fire-crackers, and you will see how much more fond each 
 lad is of his own particular noise than that of his com- 
 panions. The same thing may be observed among pub- 
 
170 PRIDE. 
 
 lie speakers and private talkers. The most worthless 
 things are sometimes most esteemed. 
 
 It is not all the world that can pull an humble man 
 down, because God will exalt him. Nor is it all the world 
 that can keep a proud man up, because God will debase 
 him. Sir J. Sinclair, on one occasion, was invited, by 
 Lord Mellville, then high in office, to spend New Year's 
 Day with him. Sir John arrived the day before, and in 
 the morning repaired to the chamber of his host to wish 
 him a happy New Year. " It had need be happier than 
 the last," replied Lord M., "for I can not recollect a 
 single happy day in it." This was the man who was the 
 envy of many, being considered at the height of worldly 
 prosperity ! 
 
 A seeming modesty is a surer evidence of vanity than 
 a moderate degree of assurance. Vanity, of all the pas- 
 sions, is the most unsocial. When young men are once 
 dyed in pleasure and vanity, they will scarcely take any 
 other color. Half the errors attributed to love have their 
 source in vanity ; and many a person has made sacrifices 
 to this unworthy passion, who would have successfully 
 resisted pleadings of affection. 
 
 "But yesterday the word of Csesar might 
 
 Have stood against the world, now lies he there, 
 
 And none so poor to do him reverence," 
 
 PRIDE. 
 
 A false pride is the most cankering and bitter trait 
 that possesses the heart of man, and has ruined more 
 souls than any other vice, for it may be set down as 
 their chief. What leads the humble trader with limit- 
 ed income to far outlive his means, and spend his profits 
 in the support of a costly house in a more costly situa- 
 tion ? Pride. What isolates a man from the genial and 
 cheerful intercourse of his fellow-men ? Pride. What 
 leads a sensitive mind, when sorely pressed by misfor- 
 tune, and bowed down by disappointment, to end this 
 life by self-destruction ? Pride. What is that which 
 
PRIDE. 171 
 
 undermines and gnaws at the root of every virtue ? 
 False pride. There is an honest pride, such as makes 
 one ashamed to do an evil act — such a degree of self- 
 esteem as makes one above doing an injury to any one ; 
 but it is the pride which sets one above his fellows that 
 we deprecate ; that spirit which would demand homage 
 to itself as better and greater than others. In the name 
 of good sense how can any one feel thus, when it is re- 
 alized that the entire life of a man is but a moment in 
 the scale of eternity — and that in a few short days, at 
 most, we must all go from here. When the soul is about 
 to depart, what avails it whether a man dies upon a 
 throne or in the dust ? 
 
 Pride is like an empty bag, and who can stand such a 
 thing upright? It is hollow and heartless, and, like a 
 drum, makes the more noise for its very emptiness. What 
 is therein us to induce such a sentiment? Who can say 
 with truth, "I am better than my neighbor?" Some 
 shrewd philosopher has said, that if the best man's faults 
 were written on his forehead, they would make him pull 
 his hat over his eyes ! Ah, there is so much of good in 
 those who are evil, and so much that is bad in the best, 
 that it ill becomes us to judge our neighbors harshly, or 
 set ourselves up for saints at their expense. Let those 
 who feel above their fellows, view the heights above 
 themselves, and realize their littleness ; for as there is 
 none so vile but that a viler hath been known, so there 
 is no saint but a holier can be named. Let us, dear 
 reader, guard our hearts, that no such principle may 
 enter there, and we shall thus be protecting our own 
 happiness and peace of mind, and set an example to 
 others becoming us as good Christians and useful citi- 
 zens ; and when we see those deluded mortals arrogate 
 to themselves all that is great, such as hold themselves 
 the salt of the earth, we must remember that God will 
 surely melt the frozen, snow-capped cliffs of pride like an 
 iceberg in the tropics ! 
 
 Pride must have a fall. Solomon said, pride goeth be- 
 fore destruction. Of all human actions, pride the most 
 seldom obtains its end ; for while it aims at honor and 
 
172 PRIDE. 
 
 reputation, it reaps contempt and derision. Pride and 
 ill-nature will be hated in spite of all the wealth and 
 greatness in the world. Civility is always safe, but pride 
 creates enemies. As liberality makes friends of enemies, 
 so pride makes enemies of friends. Says Dean Swift, if 
 a proud man makes me keep my distance, the comfort is, 
 he at the same time keeps his. Proud men have friends 
 neither in prosperity, because they know nobody ; nor in 
 adversity, because nobody knows them. Pride is gen- 
 erally the effect of ignorance ; for pride and folly attend 
 each other. Ignorance and pride keep constant com- 
 pany. Pride, joined with many virtues, chokes them all. 
 Pride is the bane of happiness. Some people, says 
 L'Estrange, are all quality. You would think they were 
 made of nothing but title and genealogy. The stamp of 
 dignity defaces in them the very character of humanity ; 
 and transports them to such a degree of haughtiness, 
 that they reckon it below themselves to exercise either 
 good nature or good manners. It is related of the French 
 family of the Duke de Levis, that they have a picture in 
 their pedigree in which Noah is represented going into 
 the ark, and carrying a small trunk, on which is written, 
 * Tapers belonging to the Levis family." Pride is the 
 mist that vapors round insignificance. We can conceive 
 of nothing so little or ridiculous as pride. It is a mix- 
 ture of insensibility and ill-nature, in which it is hard to 
 say which has the largest share. Pride is as loud a beg- 
 gar as want, and a great deal more saucy. Knavery and 
 pride are often united; the Spartan boy was dishonest 
 enough to steal a fox, but proud enough to let the beast 
 eat out his vitals sooner than hazard detection. Pride 
 breakfasted with Plenty, dined with Poverty, and sup- 
 ped with Infamy. Pride had rather at any time go out 
 of the way than come behind. 
 
 Likeness begets love, yet proud men hate each other. 
 Pride makes us esteem ourselves ; vanity makes us desire 
 the esteem of others. It is just to say, that a man is too 
 proud to be vain. The pride of wealth is contemptible; 
 the pride of learning is pitiable ; the pride of dignity is 
 ridiculous; but the pride of bigotry is unsupportable. 
 
PRIDE. 173 
 
 To be proud of knowledge, is to be blind in the light ;, 
 to be proud of virtue, is to poison yourself with the anti- 
 dote; to be proud of authority, is to make your rise 
 your downfall. The sun appears largest when about to 
 set, so does a proud man swell most magnificently just 
 before an explosion. There is but one pride pardonable : 
 that being above doing a base or dishonorable action. He 
 who thinks no man above him but for his virtue, nor any 
 below him but for his vice, can never be obsequious or 
 assuming in a wrong place. Pride often miscalculates,, 
 and more often misconceives. The proud man places 
 himself at a distance from other men ; seen through that 
 distance, others perhaps appear little to him ; but he 
 forgets that this very distance causes him to appear 
 equally little to others. The disesteem and contempt of 
 others is inseparable from pride. It is hardly possible 
 to overvalue ourselves but by undervaluing our neigh- 
 bors, and we commonly most undervalue those who are- 
 by other men thought to be wiser than we are ; and it 
 is a kind of jealousy in ourselves that we are so, which, 
 provokes our pride. The best kindness of a proud man. 
 has often such a mixture of arrogancy, that his greatest 
 obligations are rendered ungracious to a worthy receiver. 
 A proud man hath vexation or fretting enough. He is 
 his own castigator — necessarily so ; nobody covets his 
 company. The vanity of those distinctions on which 
 mankind pride themselves will be sufficiently apparent, if 
 we consider the three places in which all men must meet 
 on the same level — at the foot of the cross, in the grave,, 
 and at the judgment bar. We are proud of a^body fat- 
 tening for worms and pampered for corruption and the 
 grave. Worldly glory ends with the world ; and for what 
 concerns us the world ends with our lives. What have 
 we to be proud of? Are not all things perishable ? The 
 time of flourishing pride is soon past, and our little great- 
 ness is lost in eternity. A death-bed figure is certainly 
 the most humbling sight in the world. To set in so dark, 
 a cloud, and to go off with languor, convulsions, and de- 
 formity, is a terrible rebuke to the pride of human na- 
 ture. The proudest man on earth is but a pauper fed 
 
174 PRIDE. 
 
 and clothed by the bounty and charity of heaven. No 
 two feelings of the human mind are more opposite than 
 pride and humility. Pride is founded on a high opinion 
 of ourselves ; humility on the consciousness of the want 
 of merit. Pride is the offspring of ignorance ; humility 
 is the child of wisdom. Pride hardens the heart ; humil- 
 ity softens the temper and the disposition. Pride is deaf 
 to the clamors of conscience ; humility listens with rev- 
 erence to the monitor within; and finally, pride rejects the 
 counsels of reason, the voice of experience, the dictates 
 of religion ; while humility, with a docile spirit, thank- 
 fully receives instruction from all who address her in 
 the garb of truth.. Of all trees, says Feltham, I observe 
 God hath chosen the vine — a low plant that creeps upon 
 the helpful wall ; of all beasts, the soft and pliant lamb ; 
 of all fowls, the mild and guileless dove. When God 
 appeared to Moses, it was not in the lofty cedar, nor in 
 the spreading palm, but a bush, an humble, abject bush. 
 As if he would, by these selections, check the conceited 
 arrogance of man. Nothing produces love like humility ; 
 nothing hate, like pride. 
 
 Pride and poverty, when combined, make a man's life 
 up hill work. Pomposity in a hovel. A gaudy parlor, 
 meagre kitchen, and empty cupboard! Ragged aristoc- 
 racy ! What shifts there are among this class to hide 
 their rags, and to give everything a golden tinge. Among 
 them you see a rich frosted cake and red wine in the 
 parlor, and a dry crust, dryer codfish, and bad coffee in 
 the kitchen. Broadcloth hides a ragged shirt. Polished 
 boots hide tattered stockings. Fortune's toys, she kicks 
 them about as she likes. The higher they look the lower 
 they sink. The gaudy side out, rags and starvation 
 within. Oh ! the pangs of pride ! What misery is here 
 covered up. Smiles abroad, tears at home. An eternal 
 war with want on one hand, and proud ambition on the 
 other. This trying to be "somebody," and this forget- 
 ting that it is not necessary to be gold-washed, and to 
 have a silver spoon in one's mouth, in order to reach that 
 envied good in life's journey. There are plenty of "some- 
 bodies" among the honest poor, and plenty of "nobodies" 
 
poverty's answer to pride. 175 
 
 among the dainty rich. Pride and poverty are the most 
 ill-sorted companions that can meet. They live in a state 
 of continual warfare, and the sacrifices they exact from 
 each other, like those claimed by enemies to establish a 
 hollow peace, only serve to increase their discord. 
 
 There are as good horses drawing in carts as in coaches ; 
 and as good men are engaged in humble employments as 
 in the highest. The best way to humble a proud man 
 is to take no notice of him. Men are sometimes accused 
 of pride, merely because their accusers would be proud 
 themselves if they were in their places. There are those 
 who despise pride with a greater pride. To quell the 
 pride, even of the greatest, we should reflect how much 
 we owe to others, and how little to ourselves. Other 
 vices choose to be in the dark, but pride loves to be 
 seen in the light. The common charge against those 
 who rise above their condition, is pride. Proud looks 
 make foul work in fair faces. 
 
 POVERTY'S ANSWER TO PRIDE. 
 
 Poverty, dressed in her sombre attire, 
 
 Sallied out one wintry day ; 
 
 In hopes of obtaining food and fire, 
 
 She passed on her weary way ; 
 
 And bending low, with quivering lip— 
 
 And downcast, tearful eye, 
 
 She poured her sorrowful tale of want 
 
 In the ear of each passer by : 
 
 And some, as they thought of their happy homes, 
 
 Gave heed to L<sr earnest cry. 
 
 Pride, arrayed in her gorgeous dress 
 
 Of silks and satins rare, 
 
 Stood glancing at Poverty's keen distress, 
 
 And attitude of despair ; 
 
 Then scornfully curling her haughty lip, 
 
 And assuming a regal grace, 
 
 She inquired what Poverty wanted there, 
 
 With her gaunt and wolfish face ; 
 
 An object so mean as her shrinking form, 
 
 Was entirely out of place. 
 
 Poverty, stung by the bitter taunt, 
 
 Stood erect by the side of Pride, 
 
 And with tears suppressed and sighs restrained 
 
 She slowly and firmly replied : 
 
 My presence inspires you with naught but disgust; 
 
 I am hungry, and sad and forlorn ; 
 
176 POVERTY. 
 
 Yet I would not exchange my much abused rags— 
 My garments all tattered and worn — 
 For all the bright gems that are bound in your hair,, 
 Your cold, haughty brow to adorn. 
 
 You're a curse m the palace — a curse in the cot — 
 
 Your blight falls alike upon all ; 
 
 And woe to the household where you are a guest,, 
 
 Whether palace, or cottage, or hall ; 
 
 Woe, woe to the being in whose heart you raise 
 
 Your altar of unhallowed fire ; 
 
 For the flattering hopes that you place on the pile, 
 
 Will sink him down deep in the mire ; 
 
 And with anguish of spirit, and head deeply bowed, 
 
 He will see the last bright spark expire. 
 
 POVERTY. 
 
 A man should not be despised because he is poor. 
 Even to slight the poor is mean. To be poor is more 
 honorable than to be dishonorably rich. Pious pov- 
 erty is better than poor piety. Poverty breeds wealth ; 
 and wealth, in its turn, breeds poverty. The earth, to 
 form the mound, is taken out of the ditch ; and the height 
 of one is near about the depth of the other. Wealth 
 and poverty are both temptations : that, tends to excite 
 pride ; this, discontent. The privations of poverty ren- 
 der us too cold and callous, and the privileges of prop- 
 erty too cold and consequential ; the first place us be- 
 neath the influence of opinion — the second above it. 
 Poverty induces and cherishes dependence, and depend- 
 ence strengthens and increases corruption. Whoever is 
 not contented in poverty, would not be perfectly happy 
 with riches. Bulwer says that poverty is only an idea 
 in nine cases out of ten. Some men with ten thousand 
 dollars a year suffer more for want of means than others 
 with three hundred. The reason is, the richer man has 
 artificial wants. His income is ten thousand , and, 
 by habit, he spends twelve or fifteen thousand, and 
 he suffers enough from being dunned for unpaid debts 
 to kill a sensitive man. A man who earns a dollar a day, 
 and does not run in debt, is the happier of the two. 
 Very few people who have never been rich will believe 
 this : but it is as true as God's word. There are people, 
 
POVERTY. 177 
 
 of course, who are wealthy and enjoy their wealth, but 
 there are thousands upon thousands with princely in- 
 comes who never know a moment's peace, because they 
 live above their means. There is really more happiness 
 in the world among the working people than among 
 those who are called rich. It is contrary to God's law 
 of nature for a man to live in idleness. He who lives by 
 the u sweat of his brow," is the happiest. In large cities 
 many people are unhappy for want of employment. If 
 their lot had been cast in the country, where they tilled 
 the soil for their own account, thi? would never hap- 
 pen. Poverty has, in large cities, very different appear- 
 ances. It is often concealed in splendor, and often in 
 extravagance. It is the care of a very great part of man- 
 kind, to conceal their indigence from the rest. They 
 support themselves by temporary expedients, and every 
 day is lost in contriving for to-morrow. Have the cour- 
 age to appear poor, and you disarm poverty of its sharp- 
 est sting. Let it be said, that though he is poor, yet he 
 always pays his debts. He that has much and wants 
 more is poor ; he who has little and wants no more is 
 rich. 
 
 "Poor and content, is rich, and rich enough." — Shak. 
 
 The poor mans purse may be empty, but he has as 
 much gold in the sunset and as much silver in the moon 
 as anybody. The . richer a man is the more he dreads 
 poverty ; thus poverty looks most frightful at a distance. 
 Want is little to be dreaded, when a man has but a short 
 time left to be miserable. Of all poverty, that of the 
 mind is most deplorable. None but God and the poor 
 know what the poor do for each other. Nature is a 
 great believer in compensations. Those to whom she 
 sends wealth, she saddles with lawsuits and dyspepsia. 
 The poor never indulge in woodcock, but they have a 
 style of appetite that converts a mackerel into a salmon, 
 and that is quite as well. To miss a fortune is not 
 necessarily a misfortune. Blessed may be the stroke of 
 disaster that sets free the children of the rich, giving 
 
 them over to the hard but kind bosom of povertv. If 
 
 12 
 
178 POVERTY. 
 
 there is anything in the world, says Dr. Holland, that a 
 young man should be more grateful for than another, it 
 is the poverty which necessitates his starting in life under 
 very great disadvantages. Poverty is one of the best 
 tests of human quality in existence. A triumph over it 
 is like graduating with honor at West Point. It demon- 
 strates stuff and stamina. It is a certificate of worthy 
 labor faithfully performed, A young man who can not 
 stand this test, is not good for anything. He can never 
 rise above a drudge or a pauper. A young man who 
 can not feel his will harden as the yoke of poverty presses 
 upon him, and his pluck rise with every difficulty that 
 poverty throws in his way, may as well retire into some 
 corner and hide himself. Poverty saves a thousand times 
 more men than it ruins ; for it only ruins those who are 
 not particularly worth saving, while it saves multitudes 
 of those whom wealth have ruined. I pity you, my rich 
 young friend, because you are in danger. You lack one 
 great stimulus to effort and excellence, which your poor 
 companion possesses. You will be very apt, if you have 
 a soft spot in your head, to think yourself above him, and 
 that sort of thing makes you mean, and injures you. 
 With full pockets and full stomach, and good linen and 
 broadcloth on your back, your heart and soul plethoric, 
 in the race of life you will find yourself surpassed by all 
 the poor boys around you, before you know it. No, my 
 boy, if you are poor, thank God and take courage, for 
 he intends to give you a chance to make something of 
 yourself. If you had plenty of money, ten chances to 
 one it would spoil you for all useful purposes. Do you 
 lack education ? Have you been cut short in the text 
 book ? Remember that education, like some other things, 
 does not consist in the multitude of things a man posses- 
 ses. What can you do ? That is the question that settles 
 the business for you. Do you know your business ? Do 
 you know men, and how to deal with them ? Has your 
 mind, by any means whatsoever, received that discipline 
 which gives to it action, power and facility ? If so, then 
 you are more a man, and a thousand times better edu- 
 cated, than the fellow who graduates from a college with 
 
PLEASURE. 179 
 
 his brains full of stuff that he can not apply to the practi- 
 cal business of life — stuff, the acquisition of which has 
 been in no sense a disciplinary process, so far as he is con- 
 cerned. There are very few men in this world less than 
 thirty years of age, and unmarried, who can afford to be 
 rich. One of the greatest benefits to be reaped from 
 great financial disasters, is the saving of a large crop of 
 young men. 
 
 PLEASURE. 
 
 Says Dr. Young, the man of pleasure, as the phrase is, 
 is the most ridiculous of all beings. It is remarkable, 
 said Seneca, that among those that place their happiness 
 in sense, they are the most miserable that seem to be the 
 happiest. He that is violent in the pursuit of pleasure, 
 says M. Aurel, won't mind to turn villain for the pur- 
 chase. Pray, what were you made for? says the Em- 
 peror Aurelius : for your pleasure ? Common sense will 
 not bear so scandalous an answer. Pleasures unduly 
 taken, enervate the soul, make fools of the wise, and 
 cowards of the brave ; while they flatter a man they 
 sting him to death. What if we might have all the plea- 
 sures in the world by asking? Who would so unman 
 himself as to desert his soul and become a perpetual 
 slave to his senses, by accepting them ? If we cast an eye 
 into the gay world, says Dr. Miller, we see, for the most 
 part, a set of querulous, emaciated, fluttering, fantastical 
 beings, worn out in the keen pursuit of pleasure ; crea- 
 tures that know, own, condemn, deplore, yet still pursue 
 their own infelicity ! the decayed monuments of error ! 
 
 "Pleasures, like the rose," says Bishop Henshaw, 
 "are sweet but prickly; the honey doth not counter- 
 vail the sting; all the world's delights are vanity, and 
 end in vexation ; like Judas, while they kiss, they betray. 
 I would neither be a stoic, nor an epicure — allow of no 
 pleasure, nor give way to all ; they are good sauce, but 
 naught to make a meal of. I may use them sometimes 
 for digestion, never for food." "Pleasures do but weaken 
 
180 PLEASURE. 
 
 our minds," says Seneca, "and send us for our support 
 to fortune, who gives us money only as the wages of 
 slavery." Sinful pleasures blast the opening prospects 
 of human felicity, and degrade human honor. Desires 
 of pleasure usher in temptation, and the growth of dis- 
 orderly passions is forwarded. Every day sends out, in 
 quest of pleasure and distinction, some heir fondled in 
 ignorance and flattered into pride. Some people are 
 nothing but money, pride and pleasure. These three 
 things engross their thoughts, and take up their whole 
 souls. Every one who hunts after pleasure, or fame, or 
 fortune, is still restless and uneasy till he has hunted 
 down his game. The most pitiable wretch on earth is a 
 man of pleasure ; — a man who has nothing to do, or at 
 least does nothing but enjoy himself and take life easy 
 That ease is the rust of the soul which dims its bright 
 surface and corrodes its very substance. The most un- 
 happy men we have ever known were those whom 
 wealth (unfortunately for their own comfort) exempted 
 from the necessity of working for themselves, and who 
 were too sordid to enjoy the divine pleasure of working 
 for others. One of this class, who had almost princely 
 riches, and spent thousands annually on fine and fast 
 horses, and the like, said to an intimate friend, "I am a 
 wretched man. My life is aimless." Another of the 
 same class declared that, often when he had met a funeral, 
 he had wished in his soul that he could change places 
 with the dead man in the coffin. Beaux, and fops, 
 and the whole pleasure-loving fraternity, are short- 
 lived creatures. They look pretty in the gay sunshine 
 of summer ; but, poor creatures, they can not endure 
 the approach of autumn and winter. They have their 
 little hour of enjoyment, and that is the end of them. 
 The days of immoderate pleasure become the vigils of 
 repentance. The seeds of repentance are sown in youth 
 by pleasure, but the harvest is reaped in age by pain. 
 
 "Still where rosy pleasure leads, 
 See a kindred grief pursue." 
 
 When the idea of any pleasure strikes your imagina- 
 
PLEASURE. 181 
 
 tion, make a just computation between the duration of 
 the pleasure and of the repentance that is sure to follow 
 it. Do not bite at the bait of pleasure till you know 
 there is no hook beneath it. What is most useful is 
 generally least exhilarating. Light has no color, water 
 no taste, air no odor. Pleasure and pain, though directly 
 opposite^ are yet so contrived by nature as to be con- 
 stant companions ; and it is a fact, that the same motions 
 and muscles of the face are employed both in laughing 
 and crying. When pleasure is predominant, all virtues 
 are excluded. Let pleasure be ever so innocent, the ex- 
 cess is always criminal. He that liveth in pleasure is 
 dead while he liveth; but he that resisteth pleasure 
 crowneth his life. The Grecians and Romans had in de- 
 testation the very name of Philoxenus, because he wished 
 for a crane's neck, for the pleasure he might take in 
 eating. The Egyptians, at their feast, to prevent exces- 
 ses, set a skeleton before their guests, with this motto, 
 Remember ye must shortly be such. They that are 
 lovers of pleasures, look upon all discourse on religion 
 as canting. Eating and drinking, and vain mirth, news, 
 and play, and the like are their constant entertainment ; 
 who know no other pleasures than what their five sen- 
 ses furnish them. 
 
 The pursuit of pleasure is unprofitable business. The 
 more you catch it the more it escapes from you. Our 
 pleasures, for the most part, are short, %lse and deceit- 
 ful; and, like drunkenness, revenge the jolly madness of 
 one hour, with the sad repentance of many. The plea- 
 sures of the world are deceitful ; they promise more than 
 they give. They trouble us in seeking them, they do 
 not satisfy us in possessing them, and they make us des- 
 pair in losing them. There are too many of that un- 
 thinking temper of mind which troubles itself with no- 
 thing that is serious and weighty, but who account life a 
 pastime and seek nothing above recreation ; never reflect- 
 ing upon where all this will end at last. Neither the deli- 
 cacies of entertainments, the charms of music, the diver- 
 tisement of the theatre, the magnificence of courts, nor 
 the most shining assemblies, can give full satisfaction to 
 
182 PLEASURE. 
 
 a wise man. We admire no man for enjoying all bodily 
 pleasures to the full. This may create for him envy, but 
 not esteem.- Whereas wisdom and prudence, true piety 
 and virtue, and all the offices of humanity, charity and 
 friendship, have the praise and commendation even of 
 those who will not imitate them. The wise and good 
 will be ever loved and honored, as the glory of human 
 nature. The good man was ever inwardly troubled for 
 the commission of any pleasure ; from whence it follows, 
 that pleasures, strictly speaking, are neither profitable 
 nor good. 
 
 Not to desire pleasure is equivalent to the enjoyment 
 of it. I see no greater pleasure in this world, said Tur- 
 tullian, than the contempt of pleasure. There is but one 
 solid pleasure in life, and that is our duty. How miser- 
 able then, how unwise, how unpardonable are they, says 
 Dr. Young, who make that one a pain! Man was made for 
 action, for duty, and for usefulness ; and it is only when 
 he lives in accordance with this great design of his be 
 ing, that he attains his highest dignity, and truest hap- 
 piness. To make pleasure our ultimate aim is certainly 
 to fail of it. 
 
 The greatest pleasure wealth can afford us, is that of 
 doing good. It is a happy thing when a man's pleasure 
 is also his perfection. The pleasure of doing good is the 
 only one that never wears out. He who can at all times 
 sacrifice pleasureHo duty approaches sublimity, says Lav- 
 ater. Aristippus said, he liked no pleasure but that which 
 concerned a man's true happiness. Religion is so far 
 from debarring men any innocent pleasure or comfort, 
 that it rather purifies and renders them more grateful 
 and generous. And besides, it brings mighty pleasures 
 of its own — those of a glorious hope, a serene mind, a 
 calm and undisturbed conscience, which do far outrelish 
 the most studied and artificial luxuries. Recreations mod- 
 erately used, are profitable to the body for health, to the 
 mind for refreshment. Use pleasures moderately, and 
 they will last the longer. The test of enjoyment is the 
 remembrance that it leaves behind it. We have no right 
 to keep ourselves or others from natural pleasures, and 
 
AMUSEMENTS. 18 3" 
 
 we are all too apt to interfere with and judge harshly the 
 pleasures of others. There is a sweet pleasure in con- 
 templation. All others grow flat and insipid by frequent 
 use ; when a man has run through with a set of vanities, 
 in the declension of his age, he knows not what to do 
 with himself, if he can not think. All worldly pleasure 
 is correspondent to a like measure of anxiety. 
 
 AMUSEMENTS. 
 
 Old boys have playthings as well as young ones ; the 
 difference is only in the price. The permission of lawful 
 enjoyment is the surest method to prevent unlawful grati- 
 fications. Fun is worth more than physic, and whoever 
 invents or discovers a new supply deserves the name of 
 a public benefactor. A man can not burrow in his count- 
 ing-room for ten or twenty of the best years of his life, 
 and come out as much of a man and as little of a mole as 
 when he went in. Repose beautifies the heart and adorns 
 the life. It is to labor what the shadow is to the sun. 
 There is as much science in recreation as in labor. To a 
 brisk bustling man, nothing makes time pass heavily but 
 pastime. Mirth is short and transient, cheerfulness fixed 
 and permanent. 
 
 " All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy ; 
 All play and no work makes Jack a mere toy." 
 
 Most men that follow sports, make them a principal 
 part of their life ; not reflecting that while they are di- 
 verting themselves, they are throwing away time. We 
 alter the very nature and design of recreation, when we 
 make a business of it. He that follows his recreation in- 
 stead of his business shall, in a little time, have no busi- 
 ness to follow. Of all diversions of life, there is none so 
 proper to fill up its empty spaces, as the reading of 
 useful and entertaining authors ; and with that the con- 
 versation of a well-chosen friend. 
 
184 THEATRES. 
 
 THEATRES. 
 
 If the experience of the world teaches anything, it 
 teaches this : that taking theatres in cities small and large, 
 through periods of years, they never have sustained them- 
 selves except by pandering to the lower passions. What 
 has been a door of literature, of intellectual entertain- 
 ment, and sometimes of food for the higher sentiments, 
 has come to be a door of the passions, in too many in- 
 stances. There is no harm in a play, whether you read 
 it or recite it ; and in and of itself it makes no difference 
 whether you go to the theatre or stay at home. If my 
 son comes to me and says, "May I go to the theatre?" 
 I withhold my consent ; but if he says, u Is it wrong in 
 itsell?" I say, "No, it is not." I do not wish to create 
 in the minds of the young a false impression in respect 
 to the drama: I merely desire to impress them with the 
 fact that theatres, as they exist, have a pernicious effect 
 upon society. I desire to give them to understand, that 
 the influence of theatres, as they are conducted, is, as a 
 general rule, deleterious to those who frequent them. I 
 do not believe an actor or an actress would wish to have 
 his or her child to attend theatres. I do not believe 
 that business men, although they have been in the habit 
 of going to theatres, and although they have been rela- 
 tively unharmed by them, would want their clerks to go 
 to them. I do not believe that a banker would want his 
 confidential clerk to frequent them. And why do peo- 
 ple feel thus about theatres ? Not because they have an 
 antipathy against them in and of themselves, but be- 
 cause they feel that altogether, taking one year with an 
 other, they are injurious. 
 
 It is patent that property comes up in neighborhoods 
 where churches are established. The reason of this is 
 that it is a recognized fact that where churches are estab- 
 lished, in spite of their mischiefs, there is an undertone 
 that promotes good morals. How is it with theatres ? 
 In spite of their apparent benefits — and I hope they have 
 many benefits that are not apparent — property will not 
 come up in localities where they are situated. It has 
 
vice. 185 
 
 been found to be the experience in Paris, London and 
 New York, that respectable persons prefer not to have 
 their residences in the vicinity of theatres, on account of 
 their tendency to deteriorate morals. I go no farther 
 than that. I do not go into any theorizing or reasoning 
 as to whether theatres are right per se, in and of them- 
 selves, and so on. I simply state, as a mere matter of 
 fact proved by observation, that theatres exert an im- 
 moral influence. — Beecher. 
 
 VICE. 
 
 By others' faults wise men correct their own. A fault 
 confessed is half redressed. You may as well seek honey 
 in gall as happiness in vice. The pleasures of vice are 
 momentary; the pleasures of virtue, everlasting. He has 
 learnt much and has not lived in vain, who has practically 
 discovered that most strict and necessary connection, that 
 does, and will ever exist, between vice and misery, and 
 virtue and happiness. The greatest miracle that the Al- 
 mighty could perform would be to make a bad man happy, 
 even in heaven : He must unparadise that blessed place 
 to accomplish it. In its primary signification, all vice, 
 that is, all excess, brings on its own punishment even 
 here. By certain fixed, settled and established laws of 
 Him who is the God of Nature, excess of every kind de- 
 stroys that constitution that temperance would preserve. 
 "In this world," says Richard Cobden, "the virtues and 
 the forces go together, and the vices and the weaknesses 
 are inseparable." Though it be a truth very little re- 
 ceived, that virtue is its own reward ; it is surely an un- 
 deniable one, that vice is its own punishment. Yice 
 stings even in our pleasures ; but virtue consoles us even 
 in our pains. Yice and folly may feel the edge of wit, 
 but virtue is invulnerable, as aquafortis dissolves the base 
 metals, but has no power to dissolve or corrode gold. 
 The martyrs to vice far exceed the martyrs to virtue, 
 both in endurance and in number. So blinded are we 
 by our passions, that we suffer more to be damned than 
 
186 vice. 
 
 to be saved. One vice is more expensive than many 
 virtues. Vice produces misery. It costs us more to be 
 miserable than it would to make us perfectly happy. 
 How cheap and easy to us is the service of virtue ! and 
 how dear do we pay for our vices ! 
 
 Never open a door to a little vice, lest a great one 
 should enter also. Small faults indulged are little thieves 
 that let in greater. Many a man's vices have at first been 
 nothing worse than good qualities run wild. Vice, ab- 
 stractly considered, is often engendered in idleness, but, 
 the moment it becomes efficiently vice, it must quit its 
 cradle and cease to be idle. Yice lives and thrives by 
 concealment. Why does no man confess his vices ? It 
 is because he is yet in them. It is for a waking man to 
 tell his dreams. Human frailty is no excuse for criminal 
 immorality. We may hate men's vices without any ill 
 will to their persons; but we can not help despising 
 those that have no kind of virtue to recommend them. 
 
 One of the greatest artifices the devil uses to engage 
 men in vice and debauchery, is to attach names of con- 
 tempt to certain virtues ; and to fill weak souls with a 
 foolish fear of passing for scrupulous, should they desire 
 to put them in practice. Sometimes those boast of ab- 
 stinence who have lost their digestive power; those boast 
 of chastity whose blood is cold and stagnant ; those boast 
 of knowing how to be silent who have nothing to say. 
 In short, mankind make vices of the pleasures which they 
 can not enjoy, and virtues of the infirmities to which they 
 are subject. We sometimes clap vice in fetters and then 
 call it virtue. Some men are kind because they are dull, 
 as common horses are easily broken to harness. Some 
 are orderly because they are timid, like cattle driven by 
 a boy with a wand. And some are social because they 
 are greedy, like barn yard fowls that mind each other's 
 clucking. Many persons think themselves perfectly vir- 
 tuous because, being well fed, they have no temptation 
 to vice. They don't distinguish between virtue and vic- 
 tuals 
 
 It is idle to talk of the vices as a sisterhood. There 
 may be association, but no affiliation. Knaves may be 
 
THE ALCHEMY OF VICE. 187 
 
 companions, but not friends. The vain dislike the vain ; 
 the proud hate the proud ; the covetous abhor the cov- 
 etous. But the virtuous are never at war. The just 
 love the just ; the chaste esteem the chaste ; the benevo- 
 lent admire the benevolent. In short, all good things 
 harmonize ; all bad things are discordant, both with the 
 good and with each other. Vice is, sometimes more 
 courageous than virtue, because it has less to lose. 
 
 "Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, 
 
 As to be hated needs but to be seen ; . 
 
 Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, 
 
 We first endure, then pity, then embrace." — Pope- 
 
 " I'll no say, men are villains a' ; 
 
 The real, harden'd wicked, 
 Wha hae nae check but human law, 
 
 Are to a few restricted." — Burns. 
 
 THE ALCHEMY OF VICE. 
 
 You have heard the story of the Italian artist who r 
 meeting with a child of exquisite beauty, wished to pre- 
 serve its features for fear he should never see such love- 
 liness again. So he painted the charming face upon can- 
 vas and hung it upon the walls of his studio. In his 
 somberest hours, that sweet, gentle countenance was like 
 an angel of light to him. Its presence filled his soul 
 with the purest aspirations. If ever I find, he said, a 
 perfect contrast to that beauteous face, I will paint that 
 also, and hang them side by side, au ideal of Heaven and 
 Hell. Years passed. At length, in a distant land, he 
 saw in a prison he visited, the most hideous object he 
 ever gazed upon. A fierce haggard fiend, with glaring 
 eyes and cheeks deeply furrowed with lust and crime. 
 The artist remembered his vow, and immediately painted 
 a picture of this loathsome form, to hang beside the por- 
 trait of the lovely boy. The contrast was perfect. His 
 dream was realized. The two poles of the moral universe 
 were before him. What was the surprise of this artist, 
 when on inquiry into the history of this horrid wretch, 
 to find he was once that lovely little boy. Both of these 
 pictures, the angel and the demon of the same soul now 
 
188 GUILT. 
 
 hang side by side in a Tuscan gallery. Kind reader, you 
 need not travel to a foreign gallery to see the transform- 
 ing power of vice upon the body. That brazen faced 
 wanton looking wretch of womanhood was once a sweet, 
 modest little girl, that blushed at the slightest indelicate 
 allusion. That obese, bloated, brandy -burnt visage was 
 •once a joyous hearted boy. What strange alchemy has 
 wrought this bestial transformation ? They have been 
 in the hard battle of appetite and carry the scars of many 
 campaigns. In the basement cells of inebriety and saloons 
 of licentiousness, many youthful forms are sitting for 
 their portraits. The demon artist of lust and intemper- 
 ance is gradually moulding them into fiends. You may, 
 our young reader, steal secretly into these hells of ine- 
 briety and harlotry. Your kind parents and friends may 
 little suspect your wayward proclivities. But be assured 
 your u sin will find you out." Yice cannot long remain 
 concealed. The soul has no place to hide it. Soon the 
 fbul flame, through some rent or fissure of the body, will 
 find expression. The inmost loves, the desires and affini- 
 ties of the soul, will mould the plastic boy into a corres- 
 ponding likeness. The body is a flesh and blood statue 
 of the spirit, and the countenance the play ground of 
 thought and feeling. An old poet has said : 
 
 "For of the soul, form doth body take, 
 For soul is form, and doth the body make.' 
 
 GUILT. 
 
 Misery is wed to guilt. Guilt is always wretched, and 
 virtue is always rewarded, sooner or later. Remorse 
 tortures with his scorpion lash. The mind that broods 
 o'er guilty woes, says Byron, is like a scorpion girt by 
 fire. The guilty soul cannot keep its secret. — [Webster.] 
 Oh ! that I could return once more to peace and inno- 
 cence ! that I hung an infant on the breast ! that I were 
 born a beggar — a peasant of the field ! I would toil till 
 the sweat of blood dropped from my brow to purchase 
 the luxury of one sound sleep, the rapture of a single 
 tear ! — Schiller. 
 
LUXURY. 189 
 
 LUXURY. 
 
 Luxury gives birth to avarice, avarice begets boldness r 
 and boldness is the parent of depravity and crime. The 
 memory of the ancients, said a learned man, is hardly in 
 any thing more to be celebrated than in their strict and 
 useful institution of youth. By labor they prevented 
 luxury in their young people, till wisdom and philosophy 
 taught them to resist and despise it. How despicable^ 
 says another writer, is his condition who is above neces- 
 sity, and yet will resign his reason and his integrity, to 
 purchase superfluities ! Though prudence may oblige a 
 man to secure a competency, yet never was any one by 
 right reason induced to seek superfluities. The ingenius 
 M. Paschal kept always in mind this maxim, Avoid 
 pleasure and superfluity. If they who affect an outward 
 show knew how many there are who deride their trivial 
 folly, they would be ashamed of themselves, grow wiser, 
 and bestow their superfluities in helping the needy, and 
 befriending the neglected. The luxurious, says Plutarch, 
 live to eat and drink, but the wise and temperate eat 
 and drink to live. The necessities of the body are the 
 proper measure of our care for the things of this life ; but 
 if once we leave this rule, and exceed those necessities, 
 then are we carried into all the extravagances in the 
 world. 
 
 The voluptuary consumes his wealth, the miser hide& 
 it. It is the wise man only who uses it to good purposes. 
 Those persons, says Tacitus, are under a mighty error 
 who know not how to distinguish between liberality and 
 luxury. Many men know how to squander that do not 
 know how to give. Amongst the ancient Romans there 
 was a law kept inviolably, that no man should make a 
 public feast, except he had before provided for all the 
 poor of his neighborhood. Take not pleasure in much 
 good cheer, neither be tied to the expense thereof. Ban- 
 quet not upon borrowing. If thou be the master of a 
 feast, lift not thyself up, but be among them as one of 
 the rest. 
 
 The consideration of the dignity and excellence of our 
 
190 CRIME. 
 
 nature, says Cicero, plainly inform us, how mean and un 
 worthy it is to dissolve in luxury ; and how becoming it 
 is, on the other hand, to lead a life of frugality, temper- 
 ance and sobriety. There is no remark more common 
 among ancient historians, than that when the state was 
 corrupted w^ith avarice and luxury it was in danger of 
 being betrayed' or sold. Our luxuries and pleasures are 
 the chains that civilization throws around us to attach us 
 to earth. The coarse minded submit to wear them, for- 
 getting that man was formed for nobler ends, but the 
 elevated and refined cast them off, and aspire to a purer 
 existence. Liberal not lavish is kind nature's hand. It 
 needs no train or servants, no pomp or equipage, to make 
 good our passage to heaven : but the graces of an honest 
 mind will serve us upon the way, and make us happy at 
 our journey's end. 
 
 CRIME. 
 
 Lord Shaftesbury declared at a public meeting, as an 
 ascertained fact, that forty-nine out of fifty of all the 
 criminals in England, convicted in after-life, commenced 
 their career of crime between the ages of eight and six- 
 teen, so that he who has passed through his sixteenth 
 year, without having begun a life of crime against the 
 laws of his country in some particular or other, is almost 
 certain never to do so. But the statistics may be some- 
 what different in America. Young men take heed. 
 Read the confession of a convict and ponder well ere you 
 make the first step into crime : u Had I been early trained 
 to truth and virtue — had one-twentieth part of the time 
 and effort been spent upon my moral culture, that was 
 lavished on my worldly education, I would not be the 
 creature of guilt and passion, nor the disgraced felon that 
 I am." The laws of nature are just, but terrible. There 
 is no weak mercy in them. Cause and consequence are 
 inseparable and inevitable. The fire burns, the water 
 drowns, the air consumes, the earth buries. And per- 
 haps it would be well for our race, if the punishment of 
 crimes against the laws of man were as inevitable as the 
 
WICKEDNESS REVENGE. 19] 
 
 punishment of crime against the laws of nature — were 
 man as unerring in his judgments as nature. 
 
 WICKEDNESS. 
 
 There is hardly any wicked man, but when his own 
 case is represented to him under the person of another, 
 will freely enough pass sentence against the wickedness 
 he himself is guilty of. A wicked man, in his iniquitous 
 plans, either fails or succeeds : if he fails, disappointment 
 is embittered by reproach; if he succeeds, success is 
 without pleasure ; for, when he looks around, he sees no 
 smile of congratulation. 
 
 REVENGE. 
 
 The noblest revenge we can take upon our enemies is 
 to do them a kindness, for to return malice for malice, 
 and injury for injury, will afford but a temporary gratifi- 
 cation to our evil passions, and our enemies will only be 
 rendered the more bitter against us. But, to take the 
 first opportunity of showing them how superior we are 
 to them, by doing them a kindness, or by rendering them 
 a service, the sting of reproach will enter deeply in their 
 soul ; and, while unto us it will be a noble retaliation, 
 our triumph will not unfrequently be rendered complete, 
 not only by blotting out the malice that had otherwise 
 stood against us, but by bringing repentant hearts to 
 offer themselves at the shrine of friendship. Says Lord 
 Bacon, The most tolerable sort of revenge, is for those 
 wrongs which there is no law to remedy. But then let 
 a man take heed, that the revenge be such as there is no 
 law to punish ; else a man's enemy is still beforehand, 
 and is two for one. 
 
 It is better to prevent a quarrel beforehand, than to 
 revenge it afterwards. It costs more to revenge inju- 
 ries than to bear them. He that waits for an opportu- 
 nity of taking his revenge, watches to do himself a mis- 
 chief. He who is conspiring against the peace of another 
 necessarily loses his own. He that studies revenge keeps 
 
192 REVENGE. 
 
 his own wounds green and rankling. Who ruins an- 
 other has admitted the worm to the root of his own tree, 
 and the fuller ye fill the cup of evil, the deeper must be 
 your own bitter draught. A vindictive temper is not 
 only uneasy to others, but to them that have it 
 
 "Revenge, at first, though sweet, 
 
 Bitter, ere long, back on itself recoils. 1 '— Milton. 
 
 There is no revenge more heroic than that which tor- 
 ments envy by doing good. Diogenes being asked how 
 one should be revenged of his enemy, answered, u By 
 being a virtuous and honest man." Sir Isaac Newton 
 says, " If you are affronted, it is better to pass it by in 
 silence, or with a jest, though with some dishonor, than 
 to endeavor revenge. If you can keep reason above 
 passion, that, and watchfulness, will be your best defend- 
 ants." Vexation is rather to be taken than given. Re- 
 venge never repairs an injury. Gentle reply to scurrilous 
 language is the most severe revenge. Lord Bacon says, 
 u By taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy ; 
 but in passing it over, he is superior." The best mode 
 of revenge is not to imitate the injury. The forgetting 
 of a wrong is a mild revenge. A virtuous man may be 
 innocently revenged of his enemies, by persisting in well- 
 doing ; and a wicked man, by reforming his life. Though 
 God suffers not his people to sin in avenging their enemies, 
 yet he suffers not the sin ol their enemies to go una- 
 venged. No creatures in the whole world but men glory 
 and triumph in the destruction of their own species. 
 Man is the only jarring string that spoils the concord of 
 the whole creation. 
 
 Revenge stops for nothing that is violent and wicked. 
 The histories of all ages are full of the tragical outrages 
 that have been executed by this diabolical passion. 
 
 Revenge is longer lived than gratitude. Indorse Mr. 
 Smith's note to keep him from bursting, and he will for- 
 get all about it in a month. Pull Mr. Smith's nose and 
 he will cherish a secret desire to burn your house down 
 for the remainder of his life. Revenge is a passion. 
 Gratitude appears to be only a sentiment. We can all 
 
MURDER DUELING. 193 
 
 hate ; but it is only one man in a hundred that possesses 
 sense enough to be thankful. 
 
 MURDER. 
 
 Providence hath so ordained and doth so govern things, 
 that those who break the great law of heaven, by shed- 
 ding man's blood, seldom succeed in avoiding discovery. 
 Murder will out. The secret which the murderer posses- 
 ses soon comes to possess him. And, like the evil spirits 
 of which we read, it overcomes him, and leads him whith- 
 ersoever it will. He feels its beating at his heart, rising 
 to his throat, and demanding disclosure. He thinks the 
 whole world sees it in his face, reads it in his eyes, and 
 almost hears its workings in the very silence of his 
 thoughts. It has become his master. It betrays his 
 discretion; it breaks down his courage; it conquers his 
 prudence. When suspicions without begin to embarrass 
 him, and the net of circumstances to entangle him, the 
 fatal secret struggles, with still greater violence, to burst 
 forth. It must be confessed, it will be confessed ; there 
 is no refuge from confession — but suicide: and suicide 
 is confession. — Daniel Webster. Many who attempt to 
 commit murder succeed only in committing suicide. 
 
 DUELING. 
 
 Dueling, as everybody knows, is a relic of the Dark 
 Ages. Among the ignorant and superstitious people 
 with whom it originated, and even under the institutions 
 of chivalry, there may have been some excuse for it. 
 But, in the present state of civilization, it can not be jus- 
 tified. Gibbon, the historian, when informed that two of 
 his friends had agreed to repair to the field, interposed, 
 on the noble principle that the acknowledgment of a real 
 fault is never injurious to one's honor, and that an offender 
 who offers an apology or explanation is a true gentle- 
 man ; and succeeded in adjusting the difficulty between 
 them. Franklin said that, U A duel decides nothing-" 
 
 13 
 
194 DUELING. 
 
 and that a person appealing to it "makes himself judge 
 in his own cause, condemns the offender without a jury, 
 and undertakes himself to be the executioner." Charles 
 Cotesworth Pinckney, one of the greatest statesmen of 
 the United States, after the fall of Hamilton, endeavored 
 to induce the society of the Cincinnati, of the different 
 States, in a body, to speak their "abhorrence of the prac- 
 tice," and to determine, "on no account, either to send 
 or accept a challenge," as the best means to "abolish it 
 throughout the Union." Notwithstanding the example 
 and opinion of Henry Clay at one period of his life, we 
 have the sentiment of his old age, in the remark in the 
 Senate, that "no man would be happier than himself to 
 see the whole barbarous system forever eradicated." 
 President Taylor emphatically refused to restore two 
 officers of the Navy who had been dismissed the service 
 for an offense, accompanied with the statement to his 
 Cabinet, that he had served in the Army forty years 
 without fighting, that duels were unnecessary, that he 
 would discountenance them on every occasion, and that 
 " he would have no dueling men about him if he could 
 help it." In 1849, a Professor of Law in Kentucky, in 
 his valedictory address to a graduating class, denounced 
 the practice in the strongest terms, "as rude, coarse and 
 *ull of horrid crime." Mr. Rhett, in 1852, in the Senate of 
 the United States, in answer to the defiance of a Senator 
 from another State, avowed that he was a member of 
 a Christian Church, that he would not dishonor his re- 
 ligious profession by going to the field to avenge an 
 insult ; that " he feared God more than man," and 
 that "true courage is best evinced by the firm mainte- 
 nance of our principles amidst all temptations and all 
 trials." 
 
 An eminent author says, "Few successful duelists (if 
 the word successful can be applied to a superiority so 
 fatal) have beheld their dead antagonist stretched on the 
 earth at their feet, without wishing they could redeem 
 with their own blood that which it has been their fate 
 to spill. Mr. Sabine, the author of a recent work en- 
 titled, " Notes on Duels and Dueling," states that, dur- 
 
DUELING. 195 
 
 ing his researches, he has been much impressed with the 
 fact that most duels grow out of trifles; and that re- 
 morse is well nigh the universal companion of the "suc- 
 cessful" duelist. And another writer on the same sub- 
 ject remarks, that "The mother of mischief is no bigger 
 than a gnat's wing; and I have known," he adds, "fifty- 
 instances, in my own day, in which, after the field was 
 fought, no one could remember the cause of the quarrel." 
 Dueling is not a criterion of bravery. Mr. Pinckney, of 
 South Carolina, quoted above, said that he had " seen 
 cowards fight duels." And Curran, in the exuberance 
 of his wit, speaks of one of his antagonists who died, in 
 three weeks after their meeting, "of the report of his 
 own pistol." 
 
 There cannot possibly be a greater extravagance than 
 for a man to run the hazard of losing his life to satisfy his 
 revenge. The duelist is a moral coward, seeking to 
 hide the pusillanimity of his^iind by affecting a corpo- 
 real courage. The duelist's fear is the fear of being 
 thought to fear. To send a challenge is, in effect, to call 
 upon a man who may have stabbed your reputation to 
 satisfy you for the injury by treating your body in the 
 same manner. If you should ever receive a challenge, 
 take no notice of it ; and should your belligerent neigh- 
 bor continue his annoyances, hand him over to the dis- 
 trict attorney and the grand jury. There have always 
 been, even from the most remote period history takes 
 cognizance of, advocates for that grand social scheme 
 which comprehends trial by battle. Some have chosen 
 clubs for these trials, some axes, some daggers, some 
 spears, while others have preferred rifles, pistols, and 
 swords; but a far more civilized mode of deciding 
 thus the merits of a case in dispute is, unquestionably, 
 that which was in a particular instance adopted by the 
 first pugilist. Certainly the practice of doing battle 
 with the fists was the first step towards civilization. 
 When men began to substitute the weapons which na- 
 ture had provided them for battle axes, tomahawks and 
 knives, society made a most important stride towards 
 perfection. As civilization progresses, men will substi- 
 
196 DUELLING. 
 
 tute the use of the tongue for that of the fist. When 
 that has been sufficiently practiced, the use of the brow 
 will supersede that of the tongue ; and when we shall 
 have reached the perfection of civilization, men will 
 merely treat with contempt those whom they know to 
 be unworthy of respect. 
 
 Learning that it was Lord Byron's intention to send 
 him a challenge, Southey prepared the following letter 
 in reply. The challenge was not sent, however, and the 
 letter was found among Southey's papers after his 
 death : 
 
 Sir, — I have the honor of acknowledging the receipt 
 of your letter, and do myself the pleasure of replying to 
 it without delay. In affairs of this kind the parties 
 ought to meet on equal terms. But to establish equality 
 between you and me, there are three things which 
 ought to be done ; and then a fourth also becomes neces- 
 sary before I can meet youftn the field. First. — You must 
 marry and have four children ; please to be particular in 
 having them girls. Second. — You must prove that the 
 greater part of the provision you make for them depends 
 on your life, and you must be under bonds of four thou- 
 sand pounds not to be hanged, not to commit suicide, 
 and not to be killed in a duel — which are the conditions 
 upon which I have effected an insurance upon my life 
 for the benefit of my wife and daughters. Third. — 
 I must tell three distinct falsehoods concerning you 
 upon the hustings, or in some other no less public as- 
 sembly ; and I shall neither be able to do this nor to 
 meet you afterward in the manner you propose, unless 
 you can perform the fourth thing — which is : You must 
 convert me from the Christian religion. Till this be ac- 
 complished, our dispute must be carried on without the 
 use of any more iron than is necessary for blacking our 
 ink or mending our pens; or any more lead than enters 
 into the composition of the Edinburgh Review. 
 
 I have the honor to subscribe myself, sir, yours with 
 all proper consideration, 
 
 Robert Southey. 
 
PASSION THE PASSIONS. 197 
 
 PASSION. 
 
 Passion makes them fools, who otherwise are not so ; 
 and shows them to be fools, who are so. Plato, speak- 
 ing of passionate persons, says, They are like men stand- 
 ing on their heads, they see all things the wrong way. 
 If ever you were in a passion, did you not find reason 
 afterwards to be sorry for it ? and will you again allow 
 yourself to be guilty of a weakness which will certainly 
 be in the same manner followed by repentance, besides 
 being attended with pain ? He who is caught in a pas- 
 sion submits himself to be examined through a micro- 
 scope. There is no method more likely to cure passion 
 and rashness, than the frequent and attentive considera- 
 tion of one's own weakness. . This will work into the 
 mind and habitual sense of the need one has of being 
 pardoned, and will bring down the swelling pride and 
 obstinacy of heart, which are the cause of hasty passion. 
 The first step to moderation r> is to perceive that we are 
 falling into a passion. One saying to Diogenes, after a 
 fellow had spit in his face, This affront will surely make 
 you angry? No, said he, but I am thinking whether I 
 ought to be so or no ! He that is slow to anger, is bet- 
 ter than the mighty: and he that ruleth his spirit than 
 he that taketh a city. Passion is a sort of fever in the 
 mind, which always leaves us weaker than it found us. 
 If you be consulted concerning a person, either very in- 
 consistent, passionate, or vicious, give not your advice ; 
 it is in vain, for such will do only what will please them- 
 selves. As nothing is so honorable as an ancient friendship, 
 so nothing is so scandalous as an old passion. When the 
 heart is still agitated by the remains of a passion, we are 
 more ready to receive a new one than when we are en- 
 tirely cured. 
 
 THE PASSIONS. 
 
 He is a wise man, who, though not skilled in science, 
 knows how to govern his passions and affections. Our 
 passions are our infirmities. He that can make a sacrifice 
 
198 THE PASSIONS. 
 
 of his will is lord of himself. Our passions are like con- 
 vulsive fits, though they make us stronger for a moment 
 yet leave us much weaker afterwards. He that over- 
 comes his passions, conquers his greatest enemies. To 
 triumph over our passions is, of all conquests, the most 
 glorious. No man is free who has not the command 
 over himself, but suffers his passions to control him. No 
 man is master of himself so long as he is slave to anything 
 else. He who is the slave of his own passions is worse 
 governed than Athens was by her thirty tyrants. He 
 who indulges his sense in any excesses, renders himself 
 obnoxious to his own reason ; and to gratify the brute 
 in him, displeases the man and sets his two natures at 
 variance. We ought not to sacrifice the sentiments of 
 the soul to gratifiy the appetites of the body. Passions, 
 like wild horses, when properly trained and disciplined, 
 are capable of being applied to the noblest purposes ; 
 but when allowed to have their own way, they become 
 dangerous in the extreme. 
 
 No tyranny is more complete than the tyranny of 
 one absorbing passion. However virtuous and amiable 
 a man may be in every relation of life, yet if he once 
 give himself over to any such influence, he gradually be- 
 comes so completely enthralled by it as to feel power- 
 less for self-extrication ; and thus he may be driven, ir- 
 resistibly at last, to the commission ot any crime, how- 
 ever monstrous, without having forfeited, by any overt 
 act, the general estimation in which he is held. Like 
 that of a man in a boat that is being drawn towards a 
 waterfall by a current, out of which a moderate exertion 
 will enable him to project himself; not having made that 
 exertion in time, he is carried on faster towards destruc- 
 tion, but still may be saved by a vigorous effort; the 
 time for this goes by, and he is hurried along by the 
 irresistible force of the torrent, until precipitated to his 
 destruction in the depths beneath. Where you see men, 
 later in life, fighting the same battles they began to fight 
 earlier in life, you may rest assured of one thing — name- 
 ly, that it is a superficial cross they are bearing. The 
 idea of men is to bear as little as they can ; but that is . 
 
THE PASSIONS. 199 
 
 not good engineering. The right way is to whip once 
 for all, as thoroughly as you can. In conducting a cam- 
 paign, do not go into battle if you can help it ; but if 
 you must go into it, thunder is mercy, and lightning is 
 pity. The more sternly, and intensely, and consecutive- 
 ly powerful you make your onset, the shorter will be 
 the contest and the more complete your victory. There 
 is no rashness like leniency, holding off, letting alone. 
 What your hands find to do, do it with your might, and 
 be done with it — that is the only safe law. And if it is 
 true in external things, as it is — what is worth doing at 
 all is worth doing well — how much more is it true in 
 things that relate to a man's disposition ? Why should he 
 forever carry about in himself a gang of pirate passions ? 
 Why should he not say, u Let me come in conflict with 
 the destroyers of my peace and pleasures and subdue 
 them ?" A man ought not to be contending with the 
 same evil propensities all the time. He ought to be con- 
 tinually arising to higher and higher conflicts. And late 
 in Christian life is a sign that you have not known what 
 was wisdom. And yet, how many of us say that our 
 old conflicts are all ended ? All the passions of our ani- 
 mal nature are increased by indulgence. If they are im- 
 properly indulged, they will triumph in our ruin. They 
 will obliterate those heaven-born qualities of our minds, 
 which, if properly cultivated, would assimilate us to 
 angels, and bring us home to God. 
 
 Philosophy and religion show themselves in no one in- 
 stance so much as in preserving our minds firm and 
 steady. Physic has no more remedies against the dis- 
 eases of the body than reason and religion have preser- 
 vatives against the passions of the mind. Passion has its 
 foundation in nature: virtue is acquired by the improve- 
 ment of our reason, and by religion. It is certainly much 
 easier, says Charron, wholly to decline a passion, than to 
 keep it within just bounds and measures ; and that which 
 few can moderate, almost anybody can prevent. Mod- 
 eration of the passions, judgment in counsel, and dex- 
 terity in affairs, are the most eminent parts of wisdom. 
 Sobriety and temperance of all kinds; moderate exer- 
 
200 GAMBLING. 
 
 cise ; appetites well governed ; and the keeping of one's 
 self from melancholy, and all violent passions and dis- 
 orders of the mind, do assist, preserve, confirm and finish 
 that which nature at first began. 
 
 To be masters of ourselves, it is indispensably necessary 
 that our thoughts and habits be good and regular; which 
 is effected either by converse with good books or per- 
 sons. Hence we may know ourselves, and adapt particu- 
 lar remedies to our frailties; for there is nothing impos- 
 sible that is necessary to the accomplishment of our hap- 
 piness. 
 
 It is said that absence cools moderate passions, and 
 inflames violent ones ; as the wind blows out candles, 
 but kindles fire. 
 
 It is the basest of passions, to like what we have not, 
 and slight what we possess. 
 
 The utmost perfection we are capable of in this world, 
 is to govern our lives and actions by the rules which 
 nature hath set us, and to keep the order of our creation. 
 
 GAMBLING. 
 
 Of all passions, gambling is the most dangerous and in- 
 excusable. A gamester endeavors to enrich himself with 
 the spoils of those whom he calls his friends. But how many 
 armies are in arms against him ? Behold that mother, 
 her tears reproach him with the ruin of her only son ! 
 That father pronounces his name with horror and con- 
 tempt to his children ; pursued by hatred, overwhelmed 
 by calumny, he feels himself condemned by reason and 
 humanity; and after wandering long in the mazes of 
 vice, he finds nothing before his eyes but ruin and re- 
 morse. Who bets should expect to lose. "A diamond 
 polishes diamond," says a German writer, "so man is 
 formed by man." Truly. And we may add, as dia- 
 mond cuts diamond, so man is fleeced by man. Gaming, 
 like a quicksand, swallows up a man in a moment. Our 
 follies and vices help each other, and blind the bubble 
 at the same time that they make the sharper quick -sight 
 
FORTUNE TELLING. 201 
 
 ed. Among many other evils that attend gaming are 
 these, loss of time, loss of reputation, loss of health, loss 
 of fortune, loss of temper, ruin of families, defrauding of 
 creditors, and, what is often the effect, is the loss of life 
 itself. 
 
 A good man will love himself and his neighbor too 
 well Xo either gain or lose an estate by gaming. 
 
 There is nothing that wears out a fine face, says Ad- 
 dison, like the vigils of a card-table, and those cutting 
 passions which naturally attend them. Haggard looks, 
 and pale complexions, are the natural indications of a 
 female gamester. 
 
 A wager is a fool's argument. 
 
 FORTUNE TELLING. 
 
 One fact alone settles the pretensions of Fortune-tel- 
 lers : they all tell essentially the same story to every cus- 
 tomer I One of the Tribune's reporters paid successive 
 visits to fifteen of the New York sorcerers, and wrote 
 down what each of them said, verbatim. An examina- 
 tion of their several communications shows that of all 
 tricks for getting money by false pretences, fortune-tel- 
 ling is the most empty and transparent. Their revela- 
 tions contain the following ten propositions: 1. You 
 have seen much trouble in your past life. (Who has 
 not ?) 2. Brighter days are in store for you. (A pre- 
 diction, at once, safe and pleasant.) 3. You are in love. 
 (Every young man — we say nothing about the young 
 ladies — supposes himself to be in that interesting pre- 
 dicament.) 4. You have a rival. (Was there ever a 
 lover who did not believe it ?) 5. You are about to 
 make a change in your business. (An expectation in 
 which all young men indulge.) 6. You will have two 
 wives. (An extremely common case.) 7. Before many 
 months pass, you will hear of the death of a friend. 
 (Sure to happen to everyone.) 8. You will have sore 
 troubles in the course of your life, but, at length, you 
 will be delivered from them. 9. You will live to a 
 
202 DANDIES AND FOPS. 
 
 good age. 10. You will, by and by, have plenty of 
 money. This is the substance of what every fortune- 
 teller in New York will communicate to every young 
 man in New York, for the very reasonable charge of one 
 dollar per young man. A rigmarole of similar nature, 
 slightly varied to suit the sex, is at the service of every 
 young lady. Surely, when these facts are generally 
 known, the trade in sham prophecy will fall off. It is a 
 disgrace to the city that this miserable system of delu- 
 sion and fraud should have flourished so long. 
 
 DANDIES AND FOPS. 
 
 The rose of Florida, the most beautiful of flowers, 
 emits no fragrance ; the bird of Paradise, the most beau- 
 tiful of birds, gives no songs ; the cypress of Greece, the 
 finest of trees, yields no fruit ; dandies, the shiniest of men, 
 generally have no sense ; and ball-room belles, the loveliest 
 of created creatures, are very often ditto. Dr. Holmes, 
 in his *' Autocrat of the Breakfast Table," says : "Dandies 
 are not good for much, but they are good for something. 
 They invent or keep in circulation .those conversational 
 blanks, checks or counters, which intellectual capitalists 
 may sometimes find it worth their while to borrow of 
 them. They are useful, too, in keeping up the standard 
 of dress, which, but for them, would deteriorate and be- 
 come, what some old folks would have it, a matter of 
 convenience, and not of taste and art. Yes, I like dan- 
 dies well enough — on one condition, that they have pluck. 
 I find that lies at the bottom of all true dandyism. A 
 little boy dressed up very fine, who puts his finger in 
 his mouth and takes to crying, if other boys make fun of 
 him, looks very silly. But if he turns very red in the 
 face and knotty in the fists, and makes an example of the 
 biggest of his assailants, throwing off his fine Leghorn 
 and his thickly buttoned jacket, if necessary, to consum- 
 mate the act of justice, his mall toggery takes on the 
 splendors of the crested helmet that frightened Astyana. 
 You remember that the Duke said his dandy officers 
 
DANDIES AND FOPS. . 203 
 
 were his best officers. The ' Sunday blood,' the super- 
 superb sartorial equestrian of our annual fast day, is not 
 imposing or dangerous. But such fellows as Brummell, 
 D'Orsay, and Byron, are not to be snubbed quite so easi- 
 ly. Look out for 4 la main defer sous le gant de velours.'' 
 A good many powerful and dangerous people have had 
 a decided dash of dandyism about them. There was Al- 
 cibiades, the ' curled son of Clinias,' an accomplished 
 young man, but what would be called ' a swell' in these 
 days. There was Aristotle, a very distinguished writer 
 of whom you have heard — a philosopher, in short, whom 
 it took centuries to learn, centuries to unlearn, and is 
 now going to take a generation or more to learn over 
 again. Regular dandy, he was. So was Marcus Anto- 
 nius : and though he lost his game, he played for big 
 stakes, and it was not his dandyism that spoiled his 
 chance. Petrarch was not to be despised as a scholar, 
 or a poet, but he was one of the same sort. So was Sir 
 Humphrey Davy ; so was Lord Palmerston, formerly, if I 
 am not forgetful. Yes, a dandy is good for something 
 as such; and dandies, such as I was just speaking of, 
 have rocked this planet like a cradle — ay, and left it 
 swinging to this day. Still, if I were you, I wouldn't 
 go to the tailor's on the strength of these remarks, and 
 run up a long bill, which will render pockets a super- 
 fluity in your next suit. Elegans, '-nascitur, non JiV A 
 man is born a dandy as he is born a poet. There are 
 heads that can't wear hats ; there are. necks that can't 
 fit cravats ; there are jaws that can't fill out collars ; 
 there are tournures nothing can humanize, and movements 
 nothing can subdue to the gracious suavity or elegant 
 languor, or stately serenity which belongs to different 
 styles of dandyism." 
 
 There are a thousand fops made by art, for one fool 
 made by nature. How ridiculous a sight, says Dr. Ful- 
 ler, is a vain young gallant, that bristles with his plumes, 
 and shakes his giddy head ; and to no other purpose, 
 than to get possession of a mistress who is as much a 
 trifle as himself! The little soul that converses of no- 
 thing of more importance than the looking-glass, and a 
 
204 BEAUTY. 
 
 fantastic dress, may make up the show of the world ; but 
 must not be reckoned among the rational inhabitants of 
 it. A man of wit may sometimes be a coxcomb ; but a 
 man of judgment and sense never can. A beau dressed 
 out, is like a cinnamon tree : the bark is worth more than 
 the body. An ass is but an ass, though laden or cover- 
 ed with gold. Fops are more attentive to what is showy 
 than mindful of what is necessary. A fop of fashion is 
 said to be the mercer's friend, the tailor's fool, and his 
 own foe. 
 
 BEAUTY. 
 
 Socrates called beauty a short-lived tyranny ; Plato, a 
 privilege of nature ; Theophrastus, a silent cheat ; The- 
 ocritus, a delightful prejudice ; Cameades, a solitary 
 kingdom ; Domitian said, that nothing was more grate- 
 ful ; Aristotle affirmed, that beauty was better than all 
 the letters of recommendation in the world ; Homer, 
 that 'twas a glorious gift of nature ; and Ovid calls it a 
 favor bestowed by the gods. But, as regards the ele- 
 ments of beauty in women, it is not too much to say, 
 that no woman can be beautiful by force of features 
 alone ; there must be as well sweetness and beauty of 
 soul. Beauty has been called u the power and aims of 
 woman." Diogenes called it " woman's most forcible let- 
 ter of recommendation." Caoneades represented it as 
 u a queen without soldiers ;" and Theocritus says it is u a 
 serpent covered with flowers ;" while a modern author 
 defines it "a bait that as often catches the fisher as the 
 fish." Nearly all the old philosophers denounced and 
 ridiculed beauty as evanescent, worthless and mischiev- 
 ous ; but, alas ! while they preached against it they 
 were none the less its slaves. None of them were able 
 to withstand u the sly, smooth witchcraft of a fair young 
 face." A really beautiful woman is a natural queen in 
 the universe of love, where all hearts pay a glad tribute 
 to her reign. • 
 
 Nature, in many other works, has scattered her beauty 
 with an unsparing hand: but none of them impress so 
 
BEAUTY. 205 
 
 strongly upon the mind the idea of beauty as the female 
 countenance. The flower may be more delicate in its 
 formation, and may show a more exquisite color — the 
 wide-spread meadow may display its beauty, and fields, 
 and groves, and winding streams may variegate the 
 scene: yet all that is here presented fades before the 
 female countenance. In the countenance of man, there 
 is a certain majesty of look, if we might so term it, which 
 is not found in the other sex ; yet where is that softness, 
 that sweet heavenly smile that plays upon the counte- 
 nance of a female — where is that splendor that dazzles 
 the eye of the beholder — that expression that baffles all 
 description. The more we compare the female counte- 
 nance with any other object, the more shall we be in- 
 clined to give the former the palm for loveliness, and 
 the more ready to exclaim with nature's sweet poet: 
 
 " Where is any author in the world, 
 Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?" 
 
 As among females there are some which are superior 
 ,o others, so there are also some seasons when the female 
 countenance excels in loveliness. I have seen her shine 
 at the ball-room ; and in all the vivacity and splendor 
 of the assembly, partaking in the common gaiety and 
 enjoying the pleasures of the scene, with all the liveliness- 
 of youthful spirits. I have seen her at the fireside, at- 
 tending to the management of domestic concerns — while 
 her presence seemed to banish care, and her converse 
 enlightened the family circle. I have seen her reposing 
 in gentle sleep, when her eye was unconscious of my 
 look — when the gentleness of her slumbers told that in- 
 nocence was seated in her breast ; but never yet did I 
 see female so lovely as when affliction had rent her 
 bosom, and had chased the smile from her cheek. AfHic 
 tion, however, though it had deprived her countenance 
 of its vivacity, had given a softening expression to her 
 features, which added to her loveliness. Her eyes were 
 uplifted, in calm resignation, as if imploring help from 
 Him, who is the father of the fatherless, and the com- 
 forter of the afflicted. 
 
206 BEAUTY. 
 
 The most fascinating women are those that can most 
 enrich the every day moments of existence. In a par- 
 ticular and attaching sense, they are all those that can 
 partake our pleasures and our pains in the liveliest and 
 most devoted manner. Beauty is little without this. 
 Where the mouth is sweet, and the eye intelligent, there 
 is always the look of beauty with a right heart. Beauty 
 without virtue, is a flower without pertume. Virtue is 
 the paint that can smooth the wrinkles of age. An old 
 writer says, that to make an entirely beautiful woman it 
 would be necessary to take the head from Greece, the 
 bust from Austria, the feet from Hindostan, the shoulders 
 from Italy, the walk from Spain, and the complexion 
 from England. At that rate she would be a Mosaic, and 
 the man who married her might well be said to have 
 'taken up a collection." 
 
 The violet will soon cease to smile. Flowers must 
 fade. The love that has nothing but beauty to sustain 
 it soon withers away. A pretty woman pleases the eye ; 
 a good woman, the heart. The one is a jewel, the other 
 a treasure. Invincible fidelity, good humor, and com- 
 placency of temper, outlive all the charms of a fine face, 
 and make the decay of it invisible. 
 
 Beauty has been not unaptly, though perhaps rather vul- 
 garly, defined as "all in my eye," since it addresses itself 
 solely to that organ, and is intrinsically of little value. 
 From this ephemeral flower spring many of the ingredients 
 of matrimonial unhappiness. It is a dangerous gift for 
 both its possessor and its admirer. If its possession, as is 
 often the case, turns the head, while its loss sours the 
 temper, if the long regret of its decay outweighs the 
 fleeting pleasure of its bloom, the plain should pity rather 
 than envy the handsome. Beauty of countenance, which, 
 being the light of the soul shining through the face, is 
 independent of features or complexion, is the most at- 
 tractive as veil as the most enduring charm. Nothing 
 but talent and amiability can bestow it, no statue or pic- 
 ture can rival it, and time itself can not destroy it 
 Beauty, dear readers, is the woman you love the best — 
 whatever she may seem to others. 
 
BEAUTY. 207 
 
 Personal beauty is a letter of recommendation written 
 by the hand of divinity, but not unfrequently dishonored 
 by the bearer. An enemy of beauty is a foe to nature. 
 We are always less prone to admit the perfection of those 
 for whom our approbation is demanded; and many a 
 woman has appeared comparatively plain in our eyes, 
 from having heard her charms extolled, whose beauty 
 might otherwise have been readily admitted. As a want 
 of exterior generally increases the interior beauty, we 
 should perhaps generally do well to judge of woman as 
 of the impressions on medals — pronouncing those the 
 most valuable which are the plainest Nature seldom 
 lavishes many of her gifts upon one subject : the peacock 
 has no voice ; the beautiful Camelia Japonica has no 
 odor; and belles frequently have no great share of intel- 
 lect. Beauties sometimes die old maids. They set such 
 a value on themselves that they don't find a purchaser 
 until the market is closed. She who studies her glass, 
 neglects her heart. A beautiful woman, if poor, should 
 use a double circumspection ; for her beauty will tempt 
 others, her poverty herself. u Thine was a dangerous 
 gift," says the poet Rogers, u the gift of beauty ; would 
 thou hadst less, or wert as once thou wast." Many and 
 varied are the female charms that conquer us. Here we 
 find a woman whose strength, like Samson's, is in her 
 hair ; a second holds your affections by her teeth ; and 
 a third is a Cinderella, who wins hearts by her pretty 
 little foot. But she is the most beautiful woman whom 
 we love most ; and the woman we love the most is fre- 
 quently the one to whom we talk of it the least. 
 
 An author says, there are two sorts of persons which 
 are not to be comforted; a rich man who finds himself 
 dying, and a beauty when she finds her charms fading. 
 As flowers fade, and the waters flow to the ocean: so 
 youth and beauty pass away, and our years hasten to 
 eternity. 
 
 ''As goods when lost, we know are seldom found ; 
 
 As fading gloss no rubbing can excite ; 
 As flowers, when dead, are trampled on the ground ; 
 
 As broken glass no cement can unite ; 
 So beauty, blemished once, is ever lost, 
 In spite of physic, painting, pains and cost." — Shak. 
 
208 LOVE. 
 
 LOYE. 
 
 Humboldt notices that the streams m America run lan- 
 guidly in the night, and await the rising of the sun to 
 quicken their flight. Love is to the heart what the sun 
 is to our American streams — it moves languidly in its 
 absence. Love is the sun of life; most beautiful in 
 morning and evening, but warmest and steadiest at noon. 
 It is the sun of the soul. Life without love is worse 
 than death — a world without a sun. Love is to domes- 
 tic life what butter is to bread — it possesses little nour- 
 ishment in itself, but gives substantials a grand relish, 
 without which they would be hard to swallow. Univer- 
 sal love is a mitten which fits all hands alike, but none 
 closely ; true affection is like a glove which fits one hand 
 only, but sets closely to that one. You may make your 
 affections too cheap, or too dear, in dealing with your 
 children or your friends. If too cheap, none of them 
 will value them ; if too dear, all will despair of securing 
 them. Affections are so many moral objects to be ac- 
 corded to justice, not to favor, and never to be withheld 
 when due, nor bestowed when undeserved. People who 
 are always talking sentiment have usually no very deep 
 feelings. The less water you have in your kettle, the 
 sooner it begins to make a noise and smoke. The love 
 which does not lead to labor will soon die out, and the 
 thankfulness which does not embody itself in sacrifices 
 is already changing to gratitude. Love is not ripened 
 in one day, nor in many, nor even in a human lifetime. 
 It is the oneness of soul with soul in appreciation and 
 perfect trust. To be blessed it must rest in that faith in 
 the Divine which underlies every other emotion. To be 
 true, it must be eternal as God himself. When Zeno was 
 told it was disgraceful for a philosopher to be in love, 
 he replied, "If that be true, the fair sex are much to be 
 pitied, for they would receive the attention only of fools." 
 Some one, speaking of a beautiful girl with enthusiasm, 
 said he was almost in love with her, though her under- 
 standing was by no means brilliant. u Pooh !" said 
 Goethe, laughing, u as if love had anything to do with 
 
LOVE. 209 
 
 understanding ! We love a girl for very different things 
 than understanding. We love her for her beauty, her 
 youth, her mirth, her confidingness, her character, with 
 its faults, caprices, and heaven knows what other inex- 
 pressible charms ; but we do not love her understanding. 
 Her mind we esteem (if it is brilliant,) and it may greatly 
 elevate her in pur opinion; nay, more, it may enchain 
 us when we already love. But her understanding is not 
 that which awakens and inflames our passions." Love 
 bestows understanding upon women, and takes it away 
 from man. " The lover," says Shakespeare,- " can see a 
 Helen in a brow of Egypt." 
 
 Woman loves more than man because she sacrifices 
 more. For every woman it is with the food of the heart 
 as with that of the body ; it is possible to exist on a very 
 small quantity, but that small quantity is an absolute 
 necessity. Woman loves or abhors; man admires or 
 despises. Woman without love is a fruit without flavor. 
 In love, the virtuous woman says no; the passionate says 
 yes; the capricious says yes and no ; the coquette neither 
 yes nor no. A coquette is a rose from whom every lover 
 plucks a leaf; the thorn remains for the future husband. 
 She may be compared to tinder which catches sparks, 
 but does not alweys succeed in lighting & match. Love, 
 while it frequently corrupts pure hearts, often purifies 
 corrupt hearts. How well he knew the human heart 
 who said, "we wish to constitute all the happiness, or if 
 that cannot be, the misery of the one we love." Reason 
 is only the last resource of love. 
 
 He that loves upon the account of virtue, can never be 
 weary ; because there are always fresh charms to attract 
 and entertain him. Solid love, whose root is virtue, can 
 no more die than virtue itself. It is by no means certain 
 that Mark Anthony, when he gave the world for love, 
 didn't make a sharp bargain. 
 
 He who loves a lady's complexion, form and features, 
 loves not her true self, but her soul's old clothes. The 
 love that has nothing but beauty to sustain it, soon 
 withers and dies. The love that is fed with presents 
 always requires feeding. Love, and love only, is the 
 
 14 
 
210 LOVE. 
 
 loan for love. Love is of the nature of a burning glass, 
 which, kept still in one place, fireth ; changed often, it 
 doth nothing. The purest joy we can experience in one 
 we love, is to see that person a source of happiness to 
 others. 
 
 The affection that links together man and wife is a far 
 holier and more enduring passion than the enthusiasm of 
 young love. It may want its gorgeousness — it may want 
 its imaginative character, but it is far richer, and holier, 
 and more trusting in its attributes. Talk not to us of 
 the absence of love in wedlock. No ! it burns with a 
 steady and brilliant flame, shedding a benign influence 
 upon existence, a million times more precious and de- 
 lightful than the cold dreams of philosophy. Domestic 
 love ! Who can measure its height or its depth ? Who 
 can estimate its preserving and purifying power? It 
 sends an ever swelling stream of life through a house- 
 hold, it binds hearts into one "bundle of life;" it shields 
 them from temptation, it takes the sting from disappoint- 
 ments and sorrow, it breathes music into the voice, into 
 the footsteps, it gives worth and beauty to the com- 
 monest office, it surrounds home with an atmosphere of 
 moral health, it gives power to effort and wings to pro- 
 gress, it is omnipotent ; God in love. 
 
 The love which survives the tomb, is one of the no- 
 blest attributes of the soul. If we still love those we 
 lose, we can not altogether lose those we love. Oh, man, 
 fear not for thy affections, and feel no dread lest time 
 should efface them ! There is neither to-day nor yester- 
 day in the powerful * echoes of memory — there is only 
 always. He who no longer feels, has never felt. There 
 are two memories — the memory of the senses, which 
 wears out with the senses, and in which perishable things 
 decay; and the memory of the soul, for which time does 
 not exist, and which lives over, at the same instant, every 
 moment of its past and present existence. Fear not, ye 
 who love. Time has power over hours, none over the 
 soul. Love is the great instrument and engine of nature, 
 the bond and cement of society, the spring and spirit of 
 the universe. It is of that active, restless nature, that it 
 
LOVE. 211 
 
 must of necessity exert itself; and like the fire, to which 
 it is so often compared, it is not a free agent to choose 
 whether it will heat or no, but it streams forth by natu- 
 ral results, and unavoidable emanations, so that it will 
 fasten upon an inferior, unsuitable object, rather than 
 none at all. The soul may sooner leave off to subsist 
 than to love, and like the vine, it withers and dies if it 
 has nothing to embrace. 
 
 At first it surprises one that love should be made the 
 principle staple of all the best kinds of fiction; and, 
 perhaps it is to be regretted that it is only one kind of 
 love that is chiefly depicted in works of fiction. But 
 that love itself is the most remarkable thing in human 
 life, there can not be the slightest doubt. For, see what 
 it will conquer. It is not only that it prevails over 
 selfishness, but it has the victory over weariness, tire- 
 someness and familiarity. When you are with the per- 
 son loved, you have no sense of being bored. This 
 humble and trivial circumstance is the great test — the 
 only sure and abiding test of love. With the persons 
 you do not love you are never supremely at your ease. 
 You have some of the sensation of walking upon stilts. 
 In conversation with them, however much you admire 
 them and are interested in them, the horrid idea will 
 cross your mind of "What shall I say next?" Converse 
 with them is not perfect association. But with those 
 you love, the satisfaction in their presence is not unlike 
 that of the relations of the heavenly bodies to one an- 
 other, which, in their silent revolutions, lose none of 
 their attractive power. The sun does not talk to the 
 world, but it attracts it. 
 
 Remember that love is dependent upon forms — cour- 
 tesy of etiquette guards and protects courtesy of heart. 
 How many hearts have been lost irrecoverably, and how 
 many averted eyes and cold looks have been gained from 
 what seemed, perhaps, but a trifling negligence of forms. 
 Men and women should not be judged by the same rules. 
 There are many radical differences in their affectional 
 natures. Man is the creature of interest and ambition. 
 His nature leads him forth into the struggle and bustle 
 
212 COURTSHIP. 
 
 of the world. Love is but the embellishment of his- 
 early life, or a song piped in the intervals of the acts. 
 He seeks for fame, for fortune, for space in the world's 
 thoughts, and dominion over his fellow-men. But a 
 woman's whole life is a history of the affections. The 
 heart is her world ; it is there her ambition strives for 
 empire ; it is there her ambition seeks for hidden trea- 
 sures. She sends forth her sympathies on adventure ; 
 she embarks her whole soul in the traffic of affection ; 
 and if shipwrecked, her case is hopeless — for it is bank- 
 ruptcy of the heart. Some one has said that woman 
 loves with her heart, and man with his head. Madame 
 DeStael says, "Love, in a woman's life, is a history ; in 
 man's, an episode." It has been said, that love is the 
 king of the young, and the tyrant of the old; and that 
 coldness strengthens strong love, just as physical cold- 
 ness makes strong people more vigorous and weak ones 
 more puny. 
 
 Some writer asserts that, "a French woman will love 
 her husband if he is either witty or chivalrous ; a Ger- 
 man woman, if he is constant and faithful ; a Dutch wo- 
 man, if he does not disturb her ease and comfort too 
 much; a Spanish woman, if he wreaks vengeance on 
 those who incur his displeasure ; an Italian woman, if he is 
 dreamy and poetical ; a Danish woman, if he thinks that 
 her .native country is the brightest and happiest on earth ; 
 a Russian woman, if he despises all westerners as miser- 
 able barbarians ; an English woman, if he succeeds in in- 
 gratiating himself with the court and the aristocracy; 
 an American woman, if — he has plenty of money. 
 
 There are two classes of disappointed lovers — those 
 who are disappointed before marriage, and the more 
 unhappy ones who are disappointed after it. To be de- 
 prived of a person we love is a happiness in comparison 
 of living with one we hate. 
 
 COURTSHIP. 
 Falling in love is an old fashion, and one that will yet 
 
COURTSHIP. 213 
 
 endure. Cobbett, a good sound Englishman, twitted 
 Malthus, the anti-population writer, with the fact, that 
 do all he could, and all that government could — ay, all 
 that twenty thousand governments could — he could not 
 prevent courting and falling in love. "Between fifteen 
 and twenty-two," said he, "all people will fall in love." 
 Shakespeare pushes out this season to the age of forty- 
 five. Old Burton, writing on love-melancholy, gives 
 us a still further extension of the lease : and certainly 
 "there be old fools as well as young fools." But no one 
 is absolutely free from the universal passion. The Greek 
 epigram on a statue of Cupid, which Voltaire, amongst 
 a hundred of others, has happily produced, is perfectly 
 true : 
 
 "Whoe'er thou art, thy master see ! 
 Who was, or is, or is to be." 
 
 Probably no one escapes from the passion. We find 
 in trials, and in criminal history, that the quaintest, 
 quickest of men, the most outwardly saintly, cold, stone- 
 like beings, have had their moments of intense love- 
 madness. Luckily love is as lawful as eating, when pro- 
 perly indulged in. Cobbett tells us how an English 
 yeoman loved and courted, and was loved in return ; 
 and a prettier episode does not exist in the English lan- 
 guage. Talk of private memoirs of courts, the gossip of 
 this cottage is worth it all. Cobbett, who was a sergeant 
 major in a regiment of foot, fell in love with the daughter 
 of a sergeant of artillery, then in the same province of 
 New Brunswick. , He had not passed more than an hour 
 in her company when, noticing her modesty, her quietude 
 and her sobriety, he said, "that is the girl for me." The 
 next morning he was up early, and almost before it was 
 light he passed the sergeant's house. There she was on 
 the snow scrubbing out her washing tub. " That's the 
 girl for me," again cried Cobbett, although she was not 
 fourteen, and he nearly twenty-one. "From the first 
 day I spoke of her," he writes, "I had no more thought 
 of her being the wife of any other man than I had 
 thought of her becoming a chest of drawers." He paid 
 every attention to her, and, young as she was, treated 
 
214 COURTSHIP. 
 
 her with every confidence. He spoke of her as his friend, 
 his second self. But in six months the artillery were or- 
 dered to England and her father with them. Here indeed 
 was a blow. Cobbett knew what Woolwich was, and 
 what temptation a young and pretty girl would be sure 
 to undergo. He therefore took to her his whole fortune, 
 150 guineas, the savings of his pay and overwork, and 
 wrote to tell her that if she did not find her situation 
 comfortable to take lodgings, and put herself to school, 
 and not to work too hard, for he would be home in two 
 years. But, as he says, u as the malignity of the devil 
 would have it, we were kept abroad two years longer 
 than our time." But at the end of four years Cobbett 
 got his discharge. He found his girl a servant of all 
 work, at five pounds a year, in the house of a Captain 
 Brisca ; and without saying a word about the matter she 
 put into his hands the whole of the one hundred and 
 fifty guineas unbroken ! What a pretty tender picture 
 is that! — the young sergeant and the little girl of eight- 
 een who had kept for four years the treasure untouched, 
 waiting with patience her lover's return ! What kindly 
 trust on both sides ! The historical painters of the Royal 
 Academy give us scenes from English history of intrigue 
 and bloodshed. Why can they not give us a scene of 
 true English courtship like that ? Cobbett, who knew 
 better how to write sterling English than many men of 
 his own days, and most men of ours, does not forget to 
 enlarge upon the scene, and dearly he loved his wife for 
 her share of it ; but he does not forget to add, that with 
 this love there was mixed "self-congratulations on this 
 indubitable proof of the soundness of his own judge- 
 ment." It is more than probable that eight girls out of 
 ten would be as prudent and as good if their lovers would 
 be as high-minded. 
 
 Courtship, says the Rev. G. S. Weaver, should not 
 seek to captivate, but to learn real character. Love 
 character, not person merely. Feeling, not reason, leads 
 astray. Courting the wrong way is by impulse, and not 
 judgment ; by a process of wooing, and not of discovery ; 
 an effort to please, and not a search for companionship ; 
 
xi : 
 
COURTSHIP. 215 
 
 with excitement, and not with calmness and deliberation ; 
 in haste, and not with cautious prudence ; a vision of the 
 heart, and not a solemn reality ; conducted by feeling, 
 and not by reason ; so managed as to be a perpetual 
 blandishment of pleasure the most intoxicating and de- 
 lightful, and not a trying ordeal for the enduring reali- 
 ties of solid and stubborn life ; a perpetual yielding up of 
 every thing, and not a firm maintenance of every thing 
 that belongs to the man or woman. In almost every 
 particular false, and hence must be followed by evil con- 
 sequences. 
 
 The ostensible object of courtship is the choice of a 
 companion. For no other object should any intercourse 
 having the appearance of courtship be permitted or in- 
 dulged in. It is a species of high handed fraud upon an 
 unsuspecting heart, worthy of the heaviest penalty of 
 publie opinion, or law. The affections are too tender 
 and sacred to be trifled with. He who does it is a wretch. 
 He should be ranked among thieves, robbers, villains 
 and murderers. He who steals money steals trash ; but 
 he who steals affections 'without a return of similar affec- 
 tions, steals that which is dearer than life and more pre- 
 cious than wealth. His theft is a robbery of the heart. 
 
 The young man and young woman who form a solemn 
 matrimonial alliance at any age before they have attained 
 manhood and womanhood, do it more in folly than in 
 wisdom, more in passion than in love, do it at the risk 
 of their life's peace, and the most fearful consequences 
 that follow in the train of such matrimonial adventures. 
 It can only be called a matrimonial adventure. They do 
 it in childish ignorance. It is not possible for a youth 
 at that age to have a judgment sufficiently matured, and 
 a heart sufficiently subdued, to render him capable of 
 forming an absolutely correct opinion upon a subject of 
 such vast importance and such complicated results. Treat 
 it lightly as you will, it is a subject of the most momen- 
 tous importance to human virtue, prosperity and happi- 
 ness, and involves much of the most intricate and pro- 
 found philosophy of human life, conduct and character. 
 A subject of such importance requires the matured powers 
 
216 COURTSHIP. 
 
 of manhood and womanhood, and the experience and 
 
 observation of such maturity. 
 
 The name of God is not oftener blasphemed by the 
 vulgar and thoughtless than is the so little understood 
 word of "love" by the millions who think they enter 
 matrimony under its pilotage. It has been wisely but 
 sadly said, that years are necessary to cement a friend- 
 ship, but months, and sometimes weeks and days, are 
 considered enough to prepare for that holier state of 
 matrimony. From false regard to public opinion, or as 
 a matter of convenience, or for the mere purpose of secur- 
 ing a home and being settled in life, thousands enter in 
 to the most sacred of human relations, witja no such feel- 
 ings towards each other as will lead them to "bear and 
 forbear." There is a popular feeling that it is somewhat 
 a disgrace for a woman to pass through life unmarried ; 
 and shrinking from that obloquy, multitudes marry ac- 
 cording to the forms of law when they are not drawn to- 
 gether by any qualities of mind and soul, and there is 
 no true marriage of heart. What wonder, then, that 
 discontent and misery arise, and a divorce, if not sought, 
 is often desired ! Those who regard love as a flame that 
 comes as a flash of gunpowder, must not feel disappoint- 
 ed if * the blackness and desolation that succeed a gun- 
 powder flash is all that is left after their brief infatuation 
 is over. All love before marriage should be a study for 
 love after marriage. If not well understood, its power 
 is apt to become exhausted. Love and courtship is to 
 wedded love what horticulture in books is to horticul- 
 ture in a garden. The power of love must be measured 
 not by its intensity, but by its effects ; by its beneficence 
 in bringing into play a higher range of motives, by the 
 facilities it unfolds, by its skill in harmonizing different 
 natures. One grand mistake is in supposing that love 
 begun is love completed. The orchardist knows that 
 blossoms are not apples, but the lover often thinks they 
 are. The magistrate marries ; but marrying is not mat- 
 ing. Not once in a hundred times do two natures 
 brought side by side harmonize in every part. Of no- 
 thing are people more ignorant than of human nature 
 
COURTSHIP 217 
 
 Very rich and fruitful natures are often side by side with 
 very barren ones ; noble ones with sordid ones ; exqui- 
 sitely sensitive with intensely tough. And this all re- 
 sults from the want of forethought evinced by people 
 when about to marry. Nine out of ten look upon mar- 
 riage much as they look upon the "grab-bag" at a gam- 
 bling fair — something from which to snatch an article at 
 a venture ; and the prizes are not much more numerous 
 in the one than in the other. When there are fewer 
 secret manoeuvres and tricks of courtship before mar- 
 riage, there will be .less unhappiness after. How often 
 we see couples who are "engaged" trying to hide little 
 foibles and eccentricities from the one they are expect- 
 ing to live a life-time with ! How blind such a course 
 is ! Then, if ever, the true characteristics of each should 
 appear ! If anything is objectionable before marriage, 
 how much more so after, when a lie is added to it ! Live 
 true lives when you are "courting." Better an engage- 
 ment should be broken off, than a life should be wasted. 
 Many counsel the young not to expect too much of love. 
 That is an evil philosophy, however, which advises to 
 moderation by undervaluing the possibilities of a true 
 and glorious love. Happiness in this life depends more 
 upon the capacity of loving than on any other single 
 quality. If men lose all the treasure of love, it does not 
 prove that the treasure is not to be found, but that they 
 have not sought aright. Many men dig for diamonds in 
 love, and only find pebbles in wedded life. The dia- 
 monds are there, however, only they know not how to 
 dig for them. In love there are many apartments ; but 
 not to selfishness, sensuality, or arrogance, will love yield 
 its full treasure. True love is social regeneration. It 
 is a revolution ending with a new king and with a recon- 
 struction of the soul. The way of the animal is self-seek- 
 ing ; that of man, sacrifice. It is not what we get, but 
 what we give, that makes us happy. It is not self-seek- 
 ing, but benevolence, that pleases. It is the steady con- 
 tinuity of love that alone can prove all its worth and 
 blessedness. Our advice to the young, then, is, to love, 
 but not love blindly. Justice is represented as blind, 
 
218 FLIRTING. 
 
 in order that under no circumstances can she swerve one 
 hair's-breadth from the right, from personal favor or pre- 
 judice ; but Love, on the contrary, should use her eyes 
 to the fullest extent that in days of courtship no stumb- 
 ling-blocks should -be left to be an annoyance after mar- 
 riage. 
 
 Courtships are the sweet and dreamy thresholds of 
 unseen Edens, where half the world has paused in 
 couples, talked in whispers, under the moonlight, and 
 passed on, and never returned. Little squalls don't up- 
 set the lover's boat : they drive it all the faster to port. 
 
 One of the meanest things a young man can do, and 
 it is not at all of uncommon occurrence, is to monopolize 
 the time and attention of a young girl for a year, or 
 more, without any definite object, and to the exclusion 
 of other gentlemen, who, supposing him to have matri- 
 monial intentions, absent themselves from her society. 
 This selfish " dog-in-the-manger" way of proceeding 
 should be discountenanced and forbidden by all parents 
 and guardians. It prevents the reception of eligible 
 offers of marriage, and fastens upon the young lady, when 
 the acquaintance is finally dissolved, the unenviable and 
 unmerited appellation of "flirt." Let all your dealings 
 with women, young man, be frank, honest and noble. 
 That many whose education and position in life would 
 warrant our looking for better things, are culpably crimi- 
 nal on these points, is no excuse for your short-comings. 
 That woman is often injured, or wronged, through her 
 holiest feelings, adds but a blacker dye to your meanness. 
 One rule is always safe : Treat every woman you meet as 
 you would wish another man to treat your innocent, con- 
 fiding sister. 
 
 FLIRTING. 
 
 When a young girl embarks upon the dissipation of 
 a fashionable life, I tremble for her as for a fair woman 
 who enters a small pox hospital. Unless her moral na- 
 ture has been vaccinated by some principle which acts 
 as a preventive, ten to one she will contract that odious 
 
FLIRTING. 219 
 
 disease called flirting. If her heart has been previously 
 vaccinated with love, for instance, she may escape, pro- 
 vided it is not of long standing, — for in the majority of 
 cases, love, after a time, is weakened, and needs renew- 
 ing just as the vaccine virus does in the physical system. 
 The disease of flirting once contracted — though the pati- 
 ent may recover from it — she will bear the marks to her 
 dying day. Her nature is never again the fair, beautiful 
 thing it once was, but a scarred, defaced mass. There 
 is nothing which so wastes the heart as this same flirting. 
 My bachelor readers, let me whisper something in your 
 ear : No woman who has passed through a flirtation has 
 an entire heart to offer. What shall we say then of her 
 who has grown gray at it? (I mean one who would be 
 gray if a year was added for every flirtation.) Why, if 
 she had any heart left, it is microscopic. But don't con- 
 found things. You needn't be afraid of woman because 
 she has loved some other man before you. If it was a 
 true, honest love, it didn't hurt her. Such a feeling en- 
 riches and ennobles the heart. A nature penetrated by 
 it is like gold ore permeated by heat — the dross is being 
 consumed and the gold refined ; while the heart which is 
 tenanted at one corner — as is the case in a flirtation — may 
 be likened to ice on a glass — melting at one point, while 
 the mass is unaffected. I might, if I couldn't do any 
 better, accept a heart which had been subjected to one 
 such melting, wasting process, but I would not consider 
 myself under any great obligations to a woman who 
 should lay at my feet the little piece of the article which 
 would remain after a dozen such operations. 
 
 It is the flirt, and those who sacrifice feminine dignity 
 to giddiness, that make so many men sceptical as to wo- 
 man's worth, and of course swell the ranks of sneering 
 and cynical bachelors. Passionate men are not so difficult 
 to manage as those cool-headed ones who take no decisive 
 step without mature consideration. Wound their confi- 
 dence, especially their trust in woman, and the offence 
 is mortal. They may forgive, but the concession is so 
 tinged with scorn. Poets say, a woman slighted is a 
 fury roused ; men, however, when they discover that 
 
"220 FLIRTING. 
 
 their most tender feelings have been trifled with, paraded 
 in exultant weakness before the gaze of others, shrink 
 within themselves, and generally ever afterwards present 
 to the world at large an outward form cased in steel. 
 A great proportion of these disturbances of the economy 
 •of the dearest of the domestic affections may be attributed 
 •to the volatility of girls who delight in having confidantes, 
 who in the lamentable majority of instances generally 
 turn out snakes in the grass. An engagement between 
 young people should be understood by their friends and 
 acquaintances, not talked about in the cant of idle gossip. 
 
 One reason why young men defer marrying to a later 
 period of life, is the bad examples they see among their 
 relatives and acquaintances of ill-assorted unions. Giddi- 
 ness of deportment in young women is not sprightliness, 
 nor excess of vivacity an accomplishment. Men, it must 
 be confessed, are extremely fastidious creatures, and 
 difficult to please, but in one respect they are unanimous 
 and consistent ; they prefer in a woman an even, equa- 
 ble temperament. Having, themselves, the more ardent 
 and coarse impulses, they dislike them in women ; and 
 hence their lasting, unchangeable love, the fond devotion 
 which the boldest and the most impetuous of men lavish 
 upon the most delicate and reserved of the other sex. 
 We therefore say advisedly, that if woman studied the 
 philosophy of conduct more, and the fashions less, there 
 would not be so many of them unmarried as there are at 
 present. 
 
 The cynic sneers at first love, the philosopher analyses 
 it with an inquiring mind, but the poet worships it with 
 the heart's worship. Which is the right? We incline 
 to the poet. His exquisite perceptions and sensibilities 
 direct him like an instinct ; and instinct never errs. A 
 first love is like the first bud some young and tender 
 plant puts forth — a thing of promise and of beauty — 
 pure as childhood's kiss — lovely as spring's earliest smile. 
 Neglect may wither, untimely frosts may chill it before 
 it can expand into a fragrant flower, and the plant send 
 forth other buds ; but none so delicate and pure, so 
 grateful to the heart and senses. Yet, much as is said 
 
ADVANTAGES OF WEDLOCK. 221 
 
 about the freshness of a first love, there are many whose 
 second love is better worth having than the first love of 
 others. 
 
 All the advice which I have given my bachelor read- 
 ers, I freely tender to the ladies also. Male flirts should 
 be avoided still more than those of the opposite sex, for 
 the former haven't as much heart to begin with as the 
 latter, therefore they can more poorly afford the waste 
 consequent upon flirtation. 
 
 If the men did not encourage coquettes so much there 
 would not be so many of them. If men dislike coquetry, 
 why do they encourage it ? Why do they often leave a 
 sensible, well-informed woman to play "wall-flower," 
 while they talk nonsense to some brainless doll, who can 
 only ogle, sigh and simper ? It appears to us that men 
 are to blame for most of the faults of women. We 
 always regret to hear a man who has matrimonial views 
 say of a girl, she don't know much, but she is amiable, 
 has a pretty face, and after all, if I need society, it is 
 easy enough to find it anywhere. A man has no right 
 to marry a woman with intentions so widely diverse from 
 those he professes to entertain, when he vows to be a 
 husband ; he is responsibly blame-worthy for the conse- 
 quences that result from such an act ; beside, it is a very 
 mistaken notion some men seem to have, that a fool is 
 easily managed; there is no description of animal so- 
 difficult to govern : what they lack in brains they are 
 sure to make up in obstinacy, or a low kind of cunning. 
 Then a pretty face cannot last forever, and the old age 
 of a brainless beauty we shudder to contemplate, even at 
 a distance. Women aim to be what men oftenest like to 
 see them ; you may, therefore, easily guage the mascu- 
 line standard by the majority of women one daily meets. 
 
 ADVANTAGES OF WEDLOCK. 
 
 "When a man hath taken a new wife he shall not go to war, neither 
 shall he be charged with any business, but he shall be free at home 
 one year and cheer up the wife which he has taken." — Deut. 24:5. 
 
 None but the married man has a home in his old age-. 
 
222 
 
 ADVANTAGES OF WEDLOCK. 
 
 None has friends then, but he ; none but he knows and 
 feels the solace of the domestic hearth ; none but he lives 
 and freshens in his green old age, amid the affections of 
 his children. There is no tear shed for the old bachelor ; 
 there is no ready hand and kind heart to cheer him in 
 his loneliness and bereavement ; there is none in whose 
 eyes he can see himself reflected, and from whose lips 
 he can receive the unfailing assurances of care and love. 
 He may be courted for his money ; he may eat and 
 drink and revel ; and he may sicken and die in a hotel 
 or a garret, with plenty of attendants about him, like so 
 many cormorants waiting for their prey ; but he will 
 never know the comforts of the domestic fireside. 
 
 The guardians of the Holborn Union lately advertised 
 for candidates to fill the situation of engineer at the 
 workhouse, a single man, a wife not being allowed to re- 
 side on the premises. Twenty-one candidates presented 
 themselves, but it was found that as to testimonials, 
 character, workmanship, and appearance, the best men 
 were all married men. The guardians had therefore to 
 elect a married man. 
 
 A man who avoids matrimony on account of the cares 
 of wedded life, cuts himself off from a great blessing for 
 fear of a trifling annoyance. He rivals the wise-acre who 
 secured himself against corns by having his legs ampu 
 tated. In his selfish anxiety to live unencumbered, 
 he only subjects himself to a heavier burden ; for the 
 passions, that apportion to every individual the load he 
 is to bear through life, generally say to the calculating 
 bachelor — u As you are a single man you shall carry 
 double." The Assurance Magazine, an English periodi- 
 cal, makes the statement, that in the two periods of life, 
 20 to 25 and 25 to 30, the probability of a widower mar- 
 rying in a year is nearly three times as great as that of a 
 bachelor ; at 30 it is four times as great ; at 60 the chances 
 of a widower marrying in a year is eleven times as great 
 as that of a bachelor. After the age of 30 the proba- 
 bility of a bachelor marrying in a year diminishes in a 
 most rapid ratio ; the probability at 35 is not much 
 more than half that at 30, and nearly the same propor- 
 
ADVANTAGES OF WEDLOCK. 223 
 
 tion exists between each period of five years afterwards." 
 A married man, falling into misfortune, is more apt to 
 retrieve his situation in the world than a single one, 
 chiefly because his spirits are soothed and retrieved by 
 domestic endearments, and his self-respect kept alive 
 by finding, that although all abroad be darkness and 
 humiliation, yet there is a little world of love at home 
 over which he is a monarch. Jeremy Taylor says, "If you 
 are for pleasure, marry ; il you prize rosy health, marry. 
 A good wife is heaven's last best gift to man — his angel 
 of mercy — minister of graces innumerable — his gem of 
 many virtues — his casket of jewels — her voice, his sweet- 
 est music — her smiles, his brightest day — her kiss the 
 guardian of innocence — her arms the pale of his safety, 
 the balm of his health, the balsam of his life — -her indus- 
 try, his surest wealth — her economy, his safest steward — 
 her lips, his faithful counsellors — her bosom the softest 
 pillow of his cares — and her prayers the ablest advocates 
 of heaven." He considered marriage "a nursery of hea- 
 ven," and "the greatest interest in the world next to the 
 last throw for eternity." 
 
 Doubtless you have remarked with satisfaction, says a 
 writer in Frazer's Magazine, the little oddities of men 
 who marry rather late in life are pruned away speedily 
 after marriage. You may have found a man who used 
 to be shabbily and carelessly dressed, with huge shirt- 
 oollar frayed at the edges, and a glaring yellow silk 
 pocket-handkerchief, broken of these and become a pat- 
 tern of neatness. You have seen a man whose hair and 
 whiskers were ridiculously cut, speedily become like 
 other human beings. You have seen a clergyman who 
 wore a long beard in a little while appear without one. 
 You have seen a man who used to sing ridiculous senti- 
 mental songs leave them off. You have seen a man who 
 took snuff copiously, and who generally had his breast 
 covered with snuff, abandon the vile habit. A wife is 
 the grand wielder of the moral pruning knife. If John- 
 son's wife had lived, there would have been no hoarding 
 of bits of orange peel ; no touching all the posts in walk- 
 ing along the street ; no eating and drinking with a dis- 
 
224 ADVANTAGES OF WEDLOCK. 
 
 gusting voracity. Tf Oliver Goldsmith had been married, 
 he would never have worn that memorable and ridicu- 
 lous coat. Whenever you find a man whom you know lit- 
 tle about, oddly dressed, or talking ridiculously, or ex- 
 hibiting any eccentricity of manner, you may be toler- 
 ably sure that he is not a married man. For the little 
 corners are rounded off, the little shoots are pruned 
 away, in married men. Wives generally have much 
 more sense than their husbands, especially when the 
 husbands are clever men. The wife's advices are like 
 the ballast that keeps the ship steady. They are like 
 the wholesome though painful shears snipping off the 
 little growths of self-conceit and folly. 
 
 Robert Southey says a man may be cheerful and con- 
 tented in celibacy, but I do not think he can ever be 
 happy ; it is an unnatural state, and the best feelings of 
 his nature are never called into action. The risks oi 
 marriage are for the greater part on the woman's side. 
 Women have so little the power of choice, that it is not 
 perhaps fair to say that they are less likely to choose well 
 than we aie; but I am persuaded that they are more 
 frequently deceived in the attachments they form, and 
 their opinions concerning men are less accurate than 
 men's opinion of their sex. Now, if a lady were to re- 
 proach me for having said this, I should only reply that 
 it was another mode of saying there are more good wives 
 in the world than there are good husbands, which I verily 
 believe. I know of nothing which a good and sensible 
 man is so certain to find, if he looks for it, as a good wife. 
 
 Somebody has said, "before thou marry, be sure of a 
 house wherein to tarry." And see, my friend, that you 
 make your house a home. A house is a mere skeleton of 
 bricks, laths, plaster, and wood ; a home is a residence 
 not merely of the body but of the heart. It is a place for 
 the affections to develope themselves — for children to 
 love, and learn, and play in — for husband and wife to toil 
 smilingly together to make life a blessing. A house where 
 a wife is a slattern and a sloven cannot be a home ; a house 
 where there is no happy fireside, no book, no newspaper 
 — above all, where there is no religion and no Bible, how 
 
SELECTING A WIFE. 225 
 
 can it be a home ? My bachelor brother, there cannot, by 
 any possibility, be a home where there is no wife. To 
 talk of a home without love, we might as well expect to 
 find an English fireside in one of the pyramids of Egypt. 
 There is a world of wisdom in the following : — " Every 
 schoolboy knows that a kite would not fly unless it had a 
 string tying it down. It is just so in life. The man who 
 is tied down by half-a-dozen blooming responsibilities and 
 their mother, will make a higher and stronger flight than 
 the bachelor who, having nothing to keep him steady, is 
 always floundering in the mud. If you want to ascend in 
 the world, tie yourself to somebody." 
 
 "Jenny is poor, and I am poor, 
 
 Yet we will wed — so say no more ; 
 
 And should the bairnies to us come, 
 
 As few that wed but do have some ; 
 
 No doubt but heaven will stand our friend, 
 
 And bread as well as children send; 
 
 So fares the hen in the farmer's yard, 
 
 To live alone she finds it hard; 
 
 I've known h^r weary every claw, 
 
 In search of corn among the straw ; 
 
 But when in quest of nicer food, 
 
 She clucks among her chirping brood ; 
 
 With joy we see the self -same hen, 
 
 That scratched for one co'd scratch for ten • 
 
 These are the tho'ts that make me willing 
 
 To take my girl without a shilling ; 
 
 And for the self -same cause, you see, 
 
 Jenny resolves to marry me." 
 
 SELECTING A WIFE. 
 
 Lamb says, "Men marry for fortune, and sometimes to 
 please their fancy ; but much often er than is suspected, 
 they consider what the world will say of it, how such a 
 woman, in their friends' eyes, will look at the head of a 
 table. Hence we see so many insipid beauties made 
 wives of, that could not have struck the particular fancy 
 of any man that had any fancy at all. These, I call, 
 furniture wives ; as men buy furniture pictures because 
 they suit this or that niche in their dining room parlors. 
 Your universally cried-up beauties are the very last choice 
 which a man of taste would make. What pleases all can 
 not have that individual charm which make this or that 
 
 15 
 
226 SELECTING A WIFE. 
 
 countenance engaging to you, only, perhaps, you Know 
 not why." The best dowry to advance the marriage of 
 a young lady, is mildness in her countenance, wisdom in, 
 her speech, modesty in her behavior, and virtue in her 
 life. She who knows merely how to dress, dance and 
 flirt, will never make a good wife. In marriage, prefer 
 the person before wealth, virtue before beauty, and the 
 mind before the body, then you have a wife, a friend, 
 and a companion. Don't marry too smart a girl, for she 
 will outrun you ; nor one too simple, for children take 
 their talents from their mother ; nor too rich, for she will 
 remind you of it ; nor too poor, for she will act the beg- 
 gar on horseback. In medio tutisimus ibis. Many a 
 philosopher who thought he had an exact knowledge of 
 the human race, has been miserably cheated in the choice 
 of a wife. Not every man who dives into the sea of 
 matrimony brings up a pearl. 
 
 We know that men naturally shrink from the attempt 
 to obtain companions who are their superiors, but they 
 will find that really intelligent women, w T ho possess the 
 most desirable qualities, are uniformly modest, and hold 
 their charms in modest estimation. Don't imagine that 
 any disappointment in love which takes place before you 
 are twenty-one years old will be of any material damage 
 to you. The truth is, that before a man is twenty-five 
 years old he does not know what he wants himself. The 
 more of a man you become, and the more manliness you 
 become capable of exhibiting in your association with 
 women, the better wife you will be able to obtain ; and 
 one year's possession of the heart and hand of a really 
 noble woman is worth nine hundred and ninety -nine 
 years' possession of a sweet creature with two ideas in 
 her head, and nothing new to say about either of them. 
 
 Take especial and seasonable care, if you are a man, 
 that your children shall not have a fool for a mother ; 
 and, if you are a woman, that they shall not have an ass 
 for a father. The leading features in the character of a 
 good woman are mildness, complaisance, and equanimity 
 of temper. The man, if he be a worldy and provident 
 husband, is immersed in a thousand cares. His mind is 
 
SELECTING A WIFE. 227 
 
 agitated, his memory loaded, and his body fatigued. He 
 retires from the bustle of the world, chagrined perhaps 
 by disappointment, angry at insolent and perfidious peo- 
 ple, and terrified lest his unavoidable connections with 
 such people should make him appear perfidious himself. 
 Is this the time for the wife of his bosom, his dearest and 
 most intimate friend, to add to his vexations, to increase 
 the fever of an over-burdened mind, by a contentious 
 tongue or a discontented brow ? Business, in its most 
 prosperous state, is full of anxiety and turmoil. Oh ! how 
 dear to the memory of man is the wife who clothes her 
 face in smiles, who uses gentle expressions, and who 
 makes her lap soft to receive and hush his cares to rest. 
 There is not in nature so fascinating sin object as a faith- 
 ful, tender and affectionate wife. 
 
 If you want to know certainly, says Dr. W. W. Hall, 
 whether the young lady you think of addressing is a 
 fairy or a fury, tread on her skirt in the street when she 
 is not aware of you being within a mile of her, and "take 
 an observation 1 ' of that face, usually "divine," at the in- 
 stant of its being turned upon you. If, out of any thou- 
 sand ladies promenading the street, you wish to make a 
 selection for a *wife who shall combine taste, tidiness, 
 and a true economy, walk behind and notice if in shawl 
 or dress, mantilla, cloak, or what-not, there are creases, 
 grease-spots, specks of dried mud, or lint, or string, or 
 feather ; if you do, let her go, for creases show that she 
 huddles her garments away, because too lazy to fold them 
 up carefully : a grease-spot proves that she will flop her- 
 self (?own any where, consulting personal ease in prefer- 
 ence to all other considerations ; and any woman who 
 recklessly runs the risk of soiling a garment irretrievably, 
 rather than take the pains to throw her head half round 
 to see whether she is not about sitting on a lump of but- 
 ter or in a pool of tobacco juice, is utterly unworthy of 
 a husband, and is as destitute of any true moral princi- 
 ple as she is of innate purity. A dried speck of mud or 
 piece of lint shows she is a hypocrite or a slouch, as it 
 proves that she is careful only of such parts of her ap- 
 parel as she thinks most likely to be seen. 
 
228 A HINT TO YOUNG LADIES. 
 
 Now, John, listen to me, said an old lady, for I am 
 older than you, or I couldn't be your mother. Never 
 do you marry a young woman, John, before you contrive 
 to drop in at the house where she lives, at least four or 
 five times before breakfast. You should notice whether 
 the complexion is the same, or if the morning wash and 
 the towel have robbed her of her bloom. You should 
 take care to surprise her, so that you may see her in her 
 morning dress, and observe how her hair looks when 
 she is not expecting you. If possible, you should hear 
 the morning conversation between her and her mother. 
 If she is ill-natured or snappish to her mother, so she will 
 be to you, depend on it. But if you find her up and 
 dressed neatly in*the morning, with the same counte- 
 nance, the same neatly combed hair, the same ready and 
 pleasant answers to her mother, which characterize her 
 appearance and deportment in the evening, and particu- 
 larly if she is lending a hand to get breakfast ready in 
 good season, she is a prize, John, and the sooner you 
 secure her to yourself the better. 
 
 Let the young man marry her whom his head and 
 heart both approve. Beware of her who deceives her 
 parents. 
 
 " Have a quick eye to see ; 
 
 She has deceived her father, and may thee." — Shah. 
 
 A HINT TO YOUNG LADIES. 
 
 There is no city, there is scarcely a township, which 
 does not number among its inhabitants women who' have 
 married on a very short acquaintance, only to be abused, 
 deserted, and left a life-long sorrow in the families in 
 which they were reared, and which they imprudently 
 and improperly deserted to share the fortune of rela- 
 tive strangers. If young ladies would only realize how 
 grossly indelicate, as well as culpably reckless, such mar- 
 riages appear to the eyes of the observing, they surely 
 would forbear. A year's thorough acquaintance with 
 the most circumstantial accounts from disinterested and 
 reliable witnesses, of the antecedents from childhood, are 
 
MARRIAGE. 
 
 229 
 
 the very best guarantees of which any woman who real- 
 izes what marriage is, will require of a stranger. Even 
 then, if her parents are not fully satisfied as well as her- 
 self, she should still hesitate. Marriage is an undertak- 
 ing in which no delay can be so hazardous as undue 
 precipitation. 
 
 MARRIAGE. 
 
 The holiest bond into which two human beings ever 
 entered, is that of marriage as regarded throughout 
 Christendom. It would be easy to show that to both 
 sexes, and to our common civilization, Christian marri- 
 age has been as elevating and ennobling, as it is holy. 
 Upon it must ever depend the moral and social equality 
 and the mutual esteem of the sexes. Upon it, also, must 
 depend purity of lineage and harmony of blood relation- 
 ships. To show how superior are all its influences, it 
 would only be necessary to contrast the peoples who 
 practice monogamic marriage with those who indulge in 
 polygamy. The sturdier physical stamina, the higher 
 and more active intellect, the braver industry and enter- 
 prise, the loftier virtues and the purer moralities, will all 
 be found with the races and communities that have put 
 on the Christian marriage curb. Enervation and deca- 
 dence are stamped upon all the nations in which the 
 companionship of the sexes is not regulated by the Chris- 
 tian rule. And of all things tending to corrupt the in- 
 fluence, and lessen the sacredness of this true marriage 
 principle, none are so blighting and deadly as undue 
 facilities for annulling the marriage tie. Many an u in- 
 compatibility of temper," and other domestic difference, 
 would have been smothered and buried, instead of hav- 
 ing been nursed to quenchless feud, had there been less 
 accessible legal avenues to divorce. The facilities pro- 
 vided by indiscreet legislation, have been the prime 
 cause of thousands of separations and family wrecks, 
 which would not otherwise have occurred. Therefore, 
 do we rejoice, that in some of the States of our Union, 
 
230 MARRIAGE. 
 
 where divorce has been most scandalously accessible, a 
 better sense has moved the law -makers to amend their 
 statutes so as to give greater sanctity and security to 
 the marriage tie. We hold in the very nature of things, 
 as well as from a careful consideration of human nature, 
 and the social history of the world, that the two chief bul- 
 warks of civilization and humanity — as, indeed, of all vir- 
 tuous progress — are the sacred observance of the Chris- 
 tian marriage, and the Christian Sabbath. Without these, 
 society must fluctuate with the pulse, or impulse of 
 human passion, with no restraint save the retributive re- 
 actions periodically inevitable in such a social state. 
 
 When the honeymoon passes away, setting behind dull 
 mountains, or dipping silently into the stormy sea of life, 
 the trying hour of married life has come. Between the 
 parties there are no more illusions. The feverish desire 
 for possession has gone, and all excitement receded. 
 Then begins, or should, the business of adaptation. If 
 they find that they do not love one another as they 
 thought they did, they should double their assiduous at- 
 tentions to one another, and be jealous of everything 
 which tends in the slightest way to separate them. Life 
 is too precious to be thrown away in secret regrets or 
 open differences. And let me say to every one to whom 
 the romance of life has fled, and who are discontented in 
 the slightest degree with their conditions and relations, 
 begin this reconciliation at once. Renew the attentions 
 of earlier days. Draw your hearts close together. Talk 
 the thing all over. Acknowledge your faults to one an- 
 other, and determine that henceforth you will be all in 
 all to each other ; and my word for it, you shall find in 
 your relation the sweetest joy earth has for you. There 
 is no other way for you to do. If you are happy at 
 home, you must be happy abroad ; the man or woman 
 who has settled down upon the conviction that he or she 
 is attached for life to an uncongenial yoke-fellow, and 
 that there is no way of escape, has lost life ; there is no 
 effort too costly to make which can restore to its setting 
 upon the bosom the missing pearl. 
 
 "Live joyfully with the wife whom thou lovest, all the 
 
MARRIAGE. 231 
 
 days of thy life." — Ecclesiastes, ix, 9. How to secure this 
 happiness ot married life ? "It would be a bold undertak- 
 ing to answer that question," some determined celibate 
 may say, u You might as well ask how to find the Philoso- 
 pher's stone, or the elixir of perpetual youth, or the Eu- 
 topia of perfect society ?" The prime difficulty in the 
 case is the entire thoughtlessness, the want of considera- 
 tion, common sense and practical wisdom. Not only 
 young persons contemplating marriage — which includes 
 all between the age of eighteen and thirty-five — but also 
 many married people have a vague notion that happiness 
 comes of itself. They wait for certain dreams of Ely- 
 sium to be fulfilled by beatific realities. Happiness does 
 not come of its own accord nor by accident. It is not 
 a gift, but an attainment. Circumstances may favor, but 
 can not create it. In every Paradise there is a forbidden 
 fruit, some Tree of the Knowledge of good and evil ; and, 
 unless the serpent, the tempter, be kept out, the enjoy- 
 ment of Eden will be as short now as it was when the 
 first married couple lost it. Even where everything 
 promises well, prudence and foresight are needed to 
 prevent fatal mistakes, and moderate expectations should 
 be encouraged, to avoid serious disappointments. Per- 
 haps the best general rule is not to expect too much ; 
 for as long as men and women continue to be such, and 
 not cherubim and seraphim, the annoyances and vexa- 
 tions of life can not be avoided. But such advice to 
 those who stand, or mean to stand by the hymeneal altar, 
 falls upon dull ears, and every coupled pair flatter them- 
 selves that their experience will be better and more ex- 
 cellent than that of any who have gone before them. 
 They look with amazement at the tameness, and coldness, 
 and diversities, and estrangements, and complainings, and 
 dissatisfactions, which spoil the comfort of so many 
 homes, as at things which can not, by any possibility, 
 fall to their happier lot. But like causes produce like 
 effects, and to avoid the misfortunes of others we must 
 avoid their mistakes. 
 
 The first, or perhaps the antecedent duty of the hus- 
 band is to provide a home. When the Scripture says, 
 
232 MARRIAGE. 
 
 u God takes the solitary man and sets him in families," 
 it does not mean in boarding-houses or hotels. Home life 
 is the proper and normal condition of marriage, and they 
 who have no home of their own are not much better 
 than half married after all. It is customary, I know, to 
 consider this only from the economic point of view, or 
 as a matter of convenience, or of social respectability, 
 but we regard it in its religious and moral aspects, and, 
 admitting that exceptional cases may exist, as to almost 
 every general rule, we believe that, wisely considered, 
 such cases are extremely rare, and that all the risks of 
 married life are greatly increased and the probability of 
 its permanent happiness very greatly diminished by the 
 want of a proper home of its own. Under the Divine 
 ordinance it is intended that husband and wife should be 
 every thing to each other, constituting a sufficient society 
 for the enjoyment of life, but if they are only two mem- 
 bers of a large family, in which they have no special 
 control, such feeling of mutual dependence can not exist, 
 and the exclusive enjoyment of each other's society is 
 continually disturbed. The most important experience 
 of the new relation is to become well acquainted with 
 each other. The acquaintance of courtship is a very one- 
 sided affair, both parties seeing through the peculiar at- 
 mosphere which magnifies virtues, changes defects into 
 beauties, and makes the discovery of faults impossible ; 
 and for the true development of character which leads to 
 full acquaintanceship, the comparative isolation of a sep- 
 arate home is, if not the indispensable, yet the most 
 favorable condition. For the disenchantment will cer- 
 tainly come, and those who had thought each other next 
 to perfect will soon discover that some few imperfections 
 and the common weaknesses of humanity remain. Dis- 
 appointment is felt where there is no just reason for it; 
 and the man finds out with unnecessary surprise, that he 
 has not married an angel, and the woman that she has 
 not married a saint. They had thought they were per- 
 fectly adapted to each other, and that mutual concessions 
 would involve no sell-denial, and that whatever either 
 might desire the other would immediately yield. But 
 
MARRIAGE. 233 
 
 experience teaches that the work of mutual adaptation 
 is precisely what they have to learn, to understand each 
 other's peculiarities and tastes, weaknesses and excellen- 
 ces ; and by self-discipline and kindness of construction, 
 on both sides, to receive and impart a modifying influ- 
 ence, bringing them nearer each other all the time, until, 
 through this interchangeable, moral and spiritual culture, 
 the beautiful visions of "Love's young dream" are real- 
 ized. This is by no means impossible. Every true mar- 
 riage of sensible persons who really love each other, 
 aifords illustrations of it. The attachment becomes con- 
 tinually more close, as more perfect understanding of 
 each other exists; and if they live to celebrate their 
 silver or golden wedding, the current of their affection 
 will have become deeper and stronger, though it may 
 seem to flow more noiselessly and quietly along. But 
 the hope of this, which is unquestionably the best happi- 
 ness this world affords, depends in a great degree upon 
 the manner in which the first few years of married life 
 are spent, and the success with which its earlier unavoid- 
 able trials are met and overcome ; and the right place, 
 the only proper place for meeting them is one's own 
 home. Any where else it is done under disadvantage, 
 with complications of meddlesome gossip, and officious 
 kindness, and gratuitous advice, and invidious compari- 
 sons, and lynx eyed observation to discover, and satirical 
 tongues to report every neglect or fault, with well in- 
 tentioned wickedness, and with other interferences too 
 tedious to be mentioned, which those who have lived 
 longest in caravansera life can most perfectly compre- 
 hend. There are innumerable things to be learned by 
 both parties in performance of their untried duties, in- 
 volving experiments, and mistakes, and miscalculations, 
 and the sooner they are learned the better, for the short- 
 comings are a matter of joke and merriment in the ear- 
 lier years, which become serious annoyances in later life. 
 This is the reason why those who defer establishing their 
 own home for several years, seldom succeed afterward 
 in making one to their mind. They have become ac- 
 customed to enjoy the comforts of life without trouble on 
 
234 MARRIAGE. 
 
 their own part, to be waited upon, to receive hospitality 
 without returning it, to live without care or labor, and 
 thus contract habits of idleness, or idle visiting, or time 
 killing, and afterward, if a more rational mode of life is 
 attempted, in their own home, they find themselves too 
 old to learn. Indolence and gossiping have spoilt them 
 for the happiness of domestic life and its attendant cares ; 
 and husband and wife, having learned not to depend 
 upon each other for society, and having lost the oppor- 
 tunity of that mutual accommodation to each other, of 
 which we have just spoken, are partially unfitted for the 
 exclusive, separate life, which wedlock is intended to 
 establish. 
 
 Married people should never be without a home of 
 their own, from the day when they are united to the 
 day of their death. By giving it up, they may save 
 money and avoid trouble, but they are sure to lose hap- 
 piness and substantial comfort, and a great part of the 
 best uses of life. This is true at all times ; but there are 
 no five years in which it is so important as those in 
 which it is most frequently disregarded. 
 
 The objection made is the expense. They can not 
 afford the first outlay, and the continued expenditure in- 
 volved. To which we might give a first and general an- 
 swer, that until we can afford to provide a home we have 
 no business to be married. But we admit that the objec- 
 tion lies deeper and is more difficult of removal than at first 
 appears. It consists in foolish habits of expenditure and 
 in absurd social ambition, by which unreal necessities are 
 created, and the problem of domestic life is made one of 
 almost impossible solution. It is this which either pre- 
 vents marriage or destroys its comfort. When a young 
 woman who is accustomed to live and dress like a princess, 
 and a man who has always expended his whole income on 
 himself, contract an alliance, they must either have a 
 large income to maintain the accustomed style, or adopt 
 the very unaristocratic expedient of "lodgings" so as to 
 keep up the appearance before the world, and economize 
 in comfort for the sake of being extravagant in show. 
 How much there is of this let every American city de- 
 
MARRIAGE. 235 
 
 clare. A part of the evil, and no small part, is the fault 
 of parents, who train their daughters so that nothing but 
 wealth can make them happy, and economy is a virtue 
 vulgar and hateful in their eyes ; but chiefly it is a gen- 
 eral lack of good sense, false ideas of respectability, the 
 want of independence, and an almost servile subjection 
 to the opinion of what we call the world, which gener- 
 ally means some fifteen or twenty of the silliest persons 
 of our acquaintance. 
 
 We account these two things essential to the happiness 
 of married life : First, to have a home of one's own ; and, 
 second, to establish it upon such a scale as to live dis- 
 tinctly and clearly within one's means — if possible, not 
 quite up to them, and by no possibility beyond them. 
 A great proportion of the failures in wedlock may be 
 traced directly to the neglect of the latter rule. No man 
 can feel happy or enjoy the comfort of his own fireside, 
 who is spending more than he earns. Debt destroys his 
 self-respect, puts him at variance with the world, and 
 makes him irritable, ill-tempered, and hard to please. 
 There is no Christian virtue, no Christian grace, that can 
 keep company with the burdensome annoyance of debt. 
 The thought of unpaid bills, and of rent falling due and 
 unprovided for, destroys the relish of one's food and 
 awakens him from the soundest sleep at night, and the 
 luxuries for which the debts were contracted become 
 loathesome in his sight. Then comes fault-finding and 
 recrimination, and love flies out at the window when the 
 sheriff threatens to come in at the door. Romantic peo- 
 ple may talk as much as they please about indulgent 
 husbands and fascinating wives, but the plain matter of 
 fact is, that no attraction or charms in the wife, either of 
 person or of mind, are more available in keeping the 
 husband's affection and respect, than the despised virtues 
 of economy and thrift. By such care for his interests 
 she confers daily benefits upon him, she lessens and 
 cheers his labor, she increases his credit, and enlarges his 
 prosperity ; "She will do him good and not evil all the 
 days of her life." The difference of result between such 
 co-operation, and daily negligence and wastefulness, is 
 
- : : MARRIAGE 
 
 often the whole Inference between a happy and miser- 
 able life. 
 
 Do not. however, infer that the social ambition, which 
 fores ::: show and not substance, and barters happiness 
 for style — a birth-right for a mess of pottage — by which 
 American society is so much cursed, is chargeable solely 
 ;; chiefly t: women. They may consent to it and ag- 
 gravate it, but the men have the chief blame to bear. 
 It is the husband's business to regulate expenses and the 
 scale of living, and the wife will seldom urge him to go 
 t ey c n his income, if he treats her like a woman, in whom 
 confidence can be placed, and not as a puppet or a child; 
 and if she should so urge him, she would only despise 
 him for yielding, and by proper exercise of authority he 
 should put an end to the unreasonable request. But we 
 are convinced that in this whole matter of extravagance, 
 the wife is n ; : the principal offender. The elegant house 
 and costly furniture, the jewelry and expensive dress, 
 are oftener his choosing than hers, given perhaps as 
 proofs of his affection, but accepted rather than desired 
 by her. She must, indeed, be "as one of the foolish 
 women* 1 who covets them or any other luxury, at the 
 cost of his peace of mind. In the beginning of married 
 life, especially, the young wife is more easily satisfied 
 than her husband, and will generally be contented with 
 whatever simplicity of style his circumstances can afford. 
 If not, he has been crazy to marry her ; for if she is not 
 willing to receive the best which he can honestly offer, 
 their prospect of contentment or happiness is very bad, 
 whether he be rich or poor. Shallow both in mind and 
 character must they be who estimate the enjoyment of 
 home by the style of living, or the neighborhood in 
 which they live. 
 
 X; sensible person will account it a hardship to begin 
 a moderate scale ; and those who do thus begin and 
 afterward attain to the possession of wealth, always look 
 back to the "day of small things" with peculiar satisfac- 
 tion as the golden age of their hearts, if not of their pur- 
 se& True affection delights in the opportunities of self- 
 denial and in the little acts of personal service for which 
 
MARRIAGE. 237 
 
 there is scarcely any place in the house of the rich. The 
 husband and wife who literally take care of each other, 
 depending comparatively little upon the vexatious inter- 
 vention of servants, at the same time enjoy the duty and 
 appreciate the kindness. The comforts which one owes 
 directly to the wife's diligent and affectionate care and 
 industry, are wonderfully different from those which 
 money buys and are brought by mercenary hands. The 
 costly gifts of riches, involving no labor or inconvenience, 
 are prized for their splendor and beauty, and are accepted, 
 perhaps as tokens of regard ; but they are not half so 
 precious as gifts, comparatively trifling, made valuable 
 by the consecration of pains-taking and self-denial. I 
 speak to many who have tried both experiences — who 
 began in the most humble and moderate manner and have 
 gradually worked upward — and they would all testify 
 that, after the positive inconvenience of straitened cir- 
 cumstances had passed, the happiest part of life was in 
 the enjoyment of neither riches nor poverty, of moder- 
 ate circumstances and quiet domestic life. They look 
 back to those days as the happiest, when by mutual help- 
 ing they gave and received the proofs of affection and 
 tenderness. 
 
 I am not so absurd as to sing the praise of poverty, 
 for no one remains poor when he can help it ; but it cer- 
 tainly has its compensations, and they who are afraid of 
 marriages, or being married, deny themselves the luxury 
 and inherent respectability of a home, because their house 
 must be small and their furniture poplar instead of rose- 
 wood, do not deserve to be happy. Let them begin 
 according to their means, however small, and honestly 
 living within them be contented with what they have. 
 Every added comfort, as they go onward, will be prized, 
 and if wealth be at last attained it will be enjoyed, while 
 those who begin at the top of earthly prosperity can at 
 the best only remain there, and in the mutations of human 
 affairs are most likely to come down. The truth is that, 
 as already said, happiness, in any respectable sense of the 
 word, depends very little upon what we have, and al- 
 most entirely upon what we are. u Our life consisteth 
 
238 AFTER MARRIAGE. 
 
 not in the abundance of things possessed," is as true of 
 domestic life as of the individual. If we could only get 
 rid of this absurd social ambition, neighborhood pride, 
 servitude to opinion, worship of appearances, or what- 
 ever you may call it! If young married people could 
 only uuderstand that in their home arrangements they 
 themselves are the only ones who have a right to be con- 
 sulted, it would be easy enough to make home happy. 
 
 How many are there who wait year after year without 
 daring to buy the wedding ring, losing all the beauty 
 and freshness of youth; -and how many others having 
 ventured so far, remain homeless, the appendages of 
 somebody else's household, in a sort of intermediate 
 condition between single blessedness and connubial bliss, 
 because they have not courage enough to face a frowning, 
 or what is worse, a gossiping world, by living in a house 
 and with furniture such as they can honestly afford! So- 
 cial ambition is the bane, the destruction of domestic 
 life. To regulate our expenditure by other people's in- 
 come is the height of folly, and to contract debts for a 
 style of living which is of our neighbor's choosing rather 
 than our own, is nearly akin to insanity. The frog swell- 
 ing himself to the size of the ox, until u he burst himself 
 indeed," is a fit emblem of it, and financial bursting and 
 domestic misery are the daily consequences. There is no 
 happiness, social, domestic or individual, without inde- 
 pendence; and no dependence is so bitter as that of 
 extravagance and debt. 
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 
 
 Many a woman has gone into her room and had a 
 ** good cry " because her husband called her by her bap- 
 tismal name, and not by some absurd nickname invented 
 in the days of their folly ; or because, pressed for time, 
 he hurried out of the house without going through the 
 established formula of leave-taking. The lover has 
 merged into the husband ; security has taken the place 
 of wooing ; and the woman does not take kindly to the 
 
AFTER MARRIAGE. 239 
 
 transformation. Sometimes she plays a dangerous game, 
 and tries what flirting with other men will do. If her 
 scheme does not answer, and her husband is not made 
 jealous, she is revolted, and holds herself that hardly- 
 used being, a neglected wife. She cannot accept as a 
 compliment the quiet trust which certain cool-headed 
 men of a loyal kind, place in their wives ; and his toler- 
 ance of her flirting manner — which he takes to be manner 
 only, with no evil in it, and with which, though he may 
 not especially like, he does not interfere — seems to her 
 indifference rather than tolerance. Yet the confidence 
 implied in this forbearance is, in point of fact, a compli- 
 ment worth all the petits soins ever invented, though this 
 hearty faith is just the thing which annoys her, and which 
 she stigmatizes as neglect. If she were to go far enough 
 she would find out her mistake. But by that time she 
 would have gone too far to profit by her experience. 
 
 Nothing is more annoying than that display of affec- 
 tion which some husbands and wives show to each othei 
 in society. That familiarity of touch, those half-concealed 
 caresses, those absurd names, that prodigality of endear- 
 ing epithets, that devoted attention which they flaunt in 
 the face of the public as a kind of challenge to the world 
 at large, to come and admire their happiness, is always 
 noticed and laughed at. Yet to some women this pa- 
 rade of love is the very essence of married happiness, 
 and part of their dearest privileges. They believe them- 
 selves admired and envied, when they are ridiculed and 
 scoffed at ; and they think their husbands are models for 
 other men to copy, when they are taken as examples for 
 all to avoid. Men who have any real manliness, how- 
 ever, do not give in to this kind of thing ; though there 
 are some as effeminate and gushing as women themselves, 
 who like this sloppy effusiveness of love, and carry it on 
 into quite old age, fondling the ancient grandmother 
 with gray hairs as lavishly as they had fondled the youth- 
 ful bride, and seeing no want of harmony in calling a 
 withered old dame of sixty and upwards by the pet 
 names by which they had called her when she was a slip 
 of a girl of eighteen. The continuance of love from 
 
240 AFTER MARRIAGE. 
 
 youth to old age is very lovely, very cheering ; but even 
 " John Anderson, my Jo," would lose its pathos if Mrs. 
 Anderson had ignored the difference between the raven 
 locks and the snowy brow. This public display of 
 familiar affection is never seen among men who pride 
 themselves on making good lovers, as certain men do — 
 those who have reduced the practice of love-making to 
 an art, a science, a.nd know their lesson to a letter. 
 These men are delightful to women, who like nothing so 
 much as being made love to, as well after marriage as 
 before ; but men who take matters quietly, and rely on 
 the good sense of their wives to take matters quietly, 
 too, sail round these scientific adorers for both depth and 
 manliness. And if women knew their best interests they 
 would care more for the trust than the science. 
 
 All that excess of flattering and petting of which 
 women are so fond, becomes a bore to a man if required 
 as part of the daily habit of life. Out in the world as 
 he is, harrassed by anxieties of which she knows nothing, 
 home is emphatically his place of rest, where his wife is 
 his friend who knows his mind, where he may be himself 
 without fear of offending, and relax the strain that must 
 be kept up out of doors ; where he may feel himself 
 safe, understood, and at ease. And some women, and 
 these by no means the coldest or the least loving, are 
 wise enough to understand this need of rest in the man's 
 harder life, and accepting the quiet of security as part 
 of the conditions of marriage, content themselves with 
 the undemonstrative love into which the fever of passion 
 has subsided. Others fret over it, and make themselves 
 and their husbands wretched because they cannot believe 
 in that which is not forever paraded before their eyes. 
 Yet what kind of a home is it for the man if he has to 
 walk as if on egg-shells, every moment afraid of wound- 
 ing the susceptibilities of a woman who will take nothing 
 on trust, and who has to be continually assured that he 
 still loves her, before she will believe that to-day is as 
 yesterday ? Of one thing she may be certain ; no wife 
 who understands what is the best kind of marriage de- 
 mands these continual attentions, which, voluntary 
 
AFTER MARRIAGE. 241 
 
 offerings of the lover, become enforced tribute from the 
 husband. She knows that as a wife, whom it is not nec- 
 essary to court or flatter, she has a nobler place than 
 that which is expressed by the attentions paid to a mis- 
 tress. Wifehood, like all assured conditions, does not 
 need to be buttressed up, but a less certain position must 
 be supported from the outside, and an insecure self-res- 
 pect, an uncertain holding, must be perpetually strength- 
 ened and reassured. Women who cannot live happily 
 without being made love to are more like mistresses than 
 wives, and come but badly off in the great struggles of 
 life and the cruel handling of time. Placing all their 
 happiness in things which cannot continue, they let slip 
 that which lies in their hands, and in their desire to re- 
 tain the romantic position of lovers, lose the sweet 
 security of wives. Perhaps, if they had higher aims in 
 life than these with which they make shift to satisfy 
 themselves, they would not let themselves sink to the level 
 of this lolly, and would understand better than they do 
 now the worth of realities as contrasted with appear- 
 ances. And yet we cannot but pity the poor, weak, 
 craving souls who long so pitifully for the freshness of 
 the morning to continue far into the day and evening, 
 who cling so tenaciously to the fleeting romances of 
 youth. They are taken by the glitter of things — love- 
 making among the rest ; and the man who is the showiest 
 in his affection, who can express it with the most color, 
 and paint it, so to speak, with the minutest touches, is 
 the man whose love seems to them the most trustworthy 
 and the most intense. They often make the mistake of 
 confounding this show with the substance, of trusting to 
 pictorial expression rather than to solid facts. And they 
 often make the mistake of cloying their husbands with 
 personal half-childish caresses, which were all very well 
 in the early days, but which become tiresome as time 
 goes on and the gravity of life deepens. And then, 
 when the man quietly keeps them off, or more brusquely 
 repels them, they are hurt and miserable, and think the 
 whole happiness of their lives is dead, and all that makes 
 marriage beautiful at an end. What is to be done to 
 
 16 
 
242 THE MARRIAGE RELATION. 
 
 balance things evenly in this unequal world of sex ? 
 What, indeed, is to be done at any time to reconcile 
 strength with weakness, and to give each its due ? One 
 thing at least is sure. The more thoroughly women 
 learn the true nature of men, the fewer mistakes they 
 will make, and the less unhappiness they will create for 
 themselves ; and the more patient men are with the hys- 
 terical excitability, the restless craving, which nature, 
 for some purpose at present unknown, has made the 
 special temperament of women, the fewer femmes incom- 
 prises there will be in married homes, and the larger the 
 chance of married happiness. 
 
 THE MARRIAGE RELATION. 
 
 The great secret is, to learn to bear with each other's 
 failings; not to be blind to them — that is either an im- 
 possibility or a folly ; we must see and feel them ; if we 
 do neither, they are not evils to us, and there is obviously 
 no need of forbearance ; but, to throw the mantle of 
 affection round them, concealing them from each other's 
 eyes; to determine not to let them chill the affections; to 
 resolve to cultivate good-tempered forbearance, because 
 it is the only way of mitigating the present evil, always 
 with a view to ultimate amendment. Surely, it is not 
 the perfection, but the imperfection, of human character 
 that makes the strongest claim in love. All the world 
 must approve, even enemies must admire the good and 
 the estimable in human nature. If husband and wife 
 estimate only that in each which all must be constrained 
 to value, what do they more than others ? It is infirmities 
 of character, imperfections of nature, that call for pitying 
 sympathy, the tender compassion, that makes each the 
 comforter, the monitor of the other. Forbearance helps 
 each to attain command over themselves. Few are the 
 creatures so utterly evil as to abuse a generous confidence, 
 a calm forbearance. Married persons should be pre- 
 eminently friends, and fidelity is the great privilege of 
 
THE MARRIAGE RELATION. 243 
 
 friendship. The forbearance here contended for is not a 
 weak and wicked indulgence of each other's faults, but 
 such a calm, tender observation of them as excludes all 
 harshness and anger, and takes the best and gentlest 
 methods of pointing them out in the full confidence of 
 affection. 
 
 The very nearest approach to domestic felicity on 
 earth is in the mutual cultivation of an absolute unself- 
 ishness. Never talk at one another either alone or in 
 company ; never both manifest anger at once ; never 
 speak loud to one another, unless the house is on fire ; 
 never reflect on a past action, which was done with a good 
 motive and the best judgment at the time; let each one 
 strive to yield often est to the wishes of the other ; let 
 self-abnegation be the daily aim and effort of each ; never 
 find fault, unless it is perfectly certain that a fault has 
 been committed, and always speak lovingly ; never taunt 
 with a past mistake; neglect the whole world besides 
 rather than one another ; never allow a request to be re- 
 peated ; never make a remark at the expense of the other, 
 it is a meanness ; never part for a day without loving 
 words to think of during absence ; never meet without a 
 loving welcome ; never let the sun go down on any anger 
 or grievance ; never consider any fault you have com- 
 mitted settled until you have frankly confessed it and 
 asked forgiveness; never forget the happy hours of early 
 love ; never sigh over what might have been, but try to 
 make the best of what is ; never forget that marriage is 
 ordained of God, and that His blessing alone can make 
 it what it should ever be ; never be contented till you 
 know you are both walking in the narrow way ; never let 
 your hopes rest upon anything this side of the eternal 
 home. Preserve the privacies of your house, your mar- 
 riage state and your hearts from father, mother, sister, 
 brother and all the world. Between you two let no 
 third person come to share the secret joy or grief that 
 belongs to yourself alone. Do you two, with God's help, 
 build your own quiet world, not allowing your dearest 
 earthly friend to be the confident of aught that concerns 
 your domestic peace. Let moments of alienation, if they 
 
244 THE MARRIAGE RELATION. 
 
 occur, be veiled and forgotten in moments and years of 
 faithful, devoted love, but never let the wall of another's 
 confidence be built up between you and your wife's or 
 your husband's heart. Promise this to yourselves and 
 to each other. Renew the vow at every temptation ; 
 you will find your account in it ; your souls will grow, 
 as it were, together, and at last be as one. Ah, if many 
 a young pair had on their wedding day known this all- 
 important secret, how many marriages would have been 
 happier than, alas, they are ! 
 
 Be not weary in well-doing. An old story contains 
 a lesson which many married couples have not yet learned. 
 When Jonathan Trumbull was Governor of Connecticut, 
 a gentleman called at his house one day requesting a 
 private interview. He said : " I have called upon a very 
 unpleasant errand, sir, and want your advice. My wife 
 and I do not live happily together, and I am thinking of 
 getting a divorce. What do you advise, sir?" The gov- 
 ernor sat a few moments in thought ; then turning to his 
 
 visitor, said, "How did you treat Mrs. W when you 
 
 were courting her ? and how did you feel toward her at 
 
 the time of your marriage ?" Squire W replied, 
 
 "I treated her as kindly as I could, for I loved her dearly 
 at that time." u Well, sir," said the governor, " go home 
 and court her now just as you did then, and love her as 
 when you married her. Do this in the fear of God for 
 one year, and then tell me the result." When a year 
 passed away Squire W called again to see the gov- 
 ernor, and said: " I have called to thank you for the 
 good advice you gave me, and to tell you that my wife 
 and I are as happy as when first we were married. I 
 cannot be grateful enough for your good counsel." " I 
 
 am glad to hear it, Mr. W " said the governor, "and 
 
 I hope you will continue to court your wife as long as 
 you live." 
 
 Addison has left on record the following important 
 sentence : — Two persons who have chosen each othei 
 out of all the species, with the design to be each other's 
 mutual comfort and entertainment, have in that very 
 action bound themselves to be good humored, affable, 
 
THE MARRIAGE RELATION. 245 
 
 joyful, forgiving and patient, with respect to each other's 
 frailties and imperfections, to the end of their lives. Mr. 
 HEXRYsays: " I have heard of a married couple who, 
 though they were both of a hasty temper, yet lived com- 
 fortably together by simply observing a rule on which 
 they had mutually agreed, viz.: " Never to be both angry 
 at the same time;" and he adds, that an ingenious and 
 pious father was in the habit of giving this advice to his 
 children, when they were married : 
 
 " Doth one speak fire? t'other with water come ! 
 Is one provok'd? be t'other soft and dumb." 
 
 The following good counsel is from a wife and mother : 
 ' I will try to make myself and all around me agreeable. 
 tt will not do to leave a man to himself till he comes to 
 you, to take no pains to attract him, to appear before him 
 with a long face. It is not so difficult as you think, dear 
 child, to behave to a husband so that he shall remain for- 
 ever a husband. I am an old woman, but you can still 
 do as you like ; a word from you at the right time will 
 not fail of its effect ; what need have you to play the part 
 of suffering virtue ? The tear of a loving girl, says an old 
 book, is like a dew-drop on a rose ; but that on the cheek 
 of a wife is a drop of poison to her husband. Try to ap- 
 pear cheerful and contented, and your husband will be 
 so ; and when you have made him happy you will be- 
 come so in reality. Nothing flatters a man so much as 
 the happiness of his wife; he is always proud of himself 
 as being the source of it. As soon as you are cheerful 
 you will be lively and alert, and allow no opportunity 
 for speaking an agreeable word to pass. Your education, 
 which gives you an immense advantage, will greatly 
 assist you, and your sensibility will become the noblest 
 gift that nature has bestowed on you, when it shows 
 itself in affectionate assiduity, and stamps on every action 
 a soft, kind, tender character, instead of wasting itself in 
 secret repinings." 
 
 Let both parties consider, when they enter upon the 
 duties ot domestic life, that the rights of each are equal; 
 and let each feel that it is as much a duty to do right as 
 to exact right Let each consider, that, being brought 
 
246 THE MARRIAGE RELATION. 
 
 up in different families, and nnder different influences, it 
 is but natural to expect that each should have opinions, 
 and perhaps prejudices, different from the other ; and 
 that the right of each to his, or her, opinion, is equal to 
 that of the other. Let each remember, that the happi- 
 ness of life depends upon harmony, — that nothing will be 
 gained by strife. Hence, let each consider whether his, 
 or her peculiar notions, are matters of principle, or mat- 
 ters of opinion and taste. If the former, let each regard 
 the other's as sacred. Do not trifle with them. If the 
 latter, let each one consider the liability of every one to 
 err, and try to think and feel alike. Talk over the mat- 
 ter, not for the purpose of convincing, but for the pur- 
 pose of understanding each other. Weigh each others 
 reasons fairly, and be willing to give all reasonable credit. 
 In a matter of principle, it will also be proper, if both 
 agree, for each to state the subject of difference fairly, 
 and give the reasons for the difference. Reflect much 
 upon the points of difference with a view to the recon- 
 ciliation of differences, and always be ready to yield a 
 point when convinced of error. On all important sub- 
 jects, as they affect the interests of both, take counsel 
 together before acting. Whatever affects both should 
 be understood and decided by both. Avoid having sep- 
 arate interests. Whatever may be said in favor of these, 
 they are certainly unnatural in domestic life, and cannot 
 fail to mar domestic happiness. There can be no separate 
 interests — whatever affects one must affect the other. 
 Never deceive each other. The loss of confidence is one 
 of the greatest evils that can befall a married pair. It 
 destroys all domestic comfort, and renders home a scene 
 of turmoil and confusion. When confidence is lost, all 
 is lost. In fine, let each strive to please the other, even 
 in little things ; (the whole of life is made up of little 
 things ;) and you will not fail to please. If you see a 
 fault in your companion, think if you have not greater, 
 and be as ready to correct your own, as to require a cor- 
 rection of your companion. Let each lay aside every 
 cause of offense to the other, that every thing may go on 
 smoothly, that the burden of life may be easily borne. 
 
INFLUENCE OF MAERIAGE. 
 
 I have speculated a great deal on matrimony. I have 
 seen young and beautiful women, the pride of the gay 
 circles, married, as the world says, well. Some have 
 moved into their costly houses, and their friends have all 
 come and looked at their furniture and their splendid 
 home for happiness, and have gone away and committed 
 them to their sunny hopes, cheerfully and without fear. 
 It is natural to be sanguine for them, as the young are 
 sometimes carried away with similar feelings. I love to 
 get unobserved into a corner and watch the bride in her 
 white attire, and with her smiling face and soft eyes 
 meeting me in the pride of life, weave a waking dream 
 of future happiness, and persuade myself that it will be 
 true. I think how they will sit upon the luxuriant sofa 
 as the twilight falls, and build gay hopes, and murmur in 
 low tones the not now forbidden tenderness ; and how 
 thrilling the allowed kiss and beautiful endearments of 
 wedded life will make even their parting joys, and how 
 gladly they will come back from the crowded and empty 
 mirth of the gay to each other's quiet company. I pic- 
 ture to myself that young creature, who blushes even 
 now at his hesitating caress, listening eagerly for his 
 footsteps as the night steals on, wishing he would come, 
 and when he enters at last, with an affection as undying 
 as his pulse, nestling upon his bosom. I can feel the tide 
 that goes flowing through the heart, and gaze with him 
 upon the graceful form as she moves about in the kind 
 offices of affection, soothing all his unquiet cares, and 
 making him forget even himself in her young and un- 
 shadowed beauty. I go forward for years, and see her 
 luxuriant hair put soberly away from her brow, and her 
 girlish graces resigned into dignity and loveliness, chas- 
 tened with the gentle meekness of maternal affection. 
 Her husband looks on with a proud eye, and shows the 
 same fervent love and delicate attentions which first won 
 her, and her fair children are grown about them, and 
 
 247 
 
248 INFLUENCE OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 they go on, full of honor and untroubled years, and are 
 remembered when they die. 
 
 Marriage is to a woman, at once the happiest and sad- 
 dest event of her life ; it is the promise of future bliss, 
 raised on the death of all present enjoyment. She quits 
 her home, her parents, her companions, her occupations, 
 her amusements — her everything upon which she has 
 hitherto depended for comfort — for affection, for kind- 
 ness, for pleasure. The parents by whose advice she has 
 been guided, the sister to whom she has dared impart 
 every embryo thought and feeling, the brother who has 
 played with her, in turns the counselor and the counseled, 
 and the younger children to whom she has hitherto been 
 the mother and the playmate — all are to be forsaken in 
 one instant ; every former tie is loosened, the spring of 
 every hope and action to be changed, and yet she flies 
 with joy into the untrodden paths before her. Buoyed 
 up by the confidence of requited love, she bids a fond 
 and grateful adieu to the life that is past, and turns with 
 excited hopes and joyous anticipations of the happiness 
 to come. Then woe to the man who can blast such 
 hopes — who can, coward-like, break the illusions that 
 have won her, and destroy the confidence which his love 
 inspired. 
 
 Marriage is a school and exercise of virtue ; and though 
 marriage hath cares, yet single life hath desires, which 
 are more troublesome and more dangerous, and often end 
 in sin ; while the cares are but exercises of piety ; and 
 therefore, if the single life hath more privacy of devo- 
 tion, yet marriage hath more variety of it, and is an ex- 
 ercise of more graces. Marriage is the proper scene of 
 piety and patience, of the duty of parents and the charity 
 of relations; here kindness is spread abroad, and love is 
 united and made firm as a centre. Marriage is the nur- 
 sery of Heaven. The virgin sends prayers to God ; but 
 she carries but one soul to him; but the state of her 
 marriage fills up the numbers of the elect, and hath in it 
 the labor of love, and the delicacies of friendship, the 
 blessings of society, and the union of hearts and hands. 
 It hath in it more safety than the single life ; it hath 
 
INFLUENCE OF MARRIAGE. 249 
 
 more care, it is more merry and more sad; is fuller of 
 sorrows and fuller of joys ; it lies under more burdens, 
 but is supported by all the strength of love and charity 
 which makes those burdens delightful. Marriage is the 
 mother of the world, and preserves kingdoms, and fills 
 cities, and churches, and heaven itself, and is that state 
 of good things to which God hath designed the present 
 constitution of the world. 
 
 Voltaire. said: u The more married men you have the 
 fewer crimes there will be. Marriage renders a man 
 more virtuous and more wise. An unmarried man is 
 but half of a perfect being, and it requires the other 
 half to make things right; and it cannot be expected 
 that in this imperfect state he can keep straight in the 
 path of rectitude any more than a boat with one oar can 
 keep a straight course. In nine cases out of ten, where 
 married men become drunkards, or where they commit 
 crimes against the peace of the community, the founda- 
 tion of these acts was laid while in a single state, or 
 where the wife is, as is sometimes the case, an unsuitable 
 match. Marriage changes the current of a man's feel- 
 ings and gives him a centre for his thoughts, his affec- 
 tions and his acts. 1 ' 
 
 It is pleasant to contemplate the associations clustering 
 around the wedding morn. It is the happiest hour of 
 human life, and breaks upon the young heart like a gentle 
 spring upon the flowers of earth. It is the hour of 
 bounding, joyous expectancy, when the ardent spirit, 
 arming itself with bold hope, looks with undaunted 
 mien upon the dark and terrible future. It is the hour 
 when thought borrows the livery of goodness, and hu- 
 manity looking from its tenement, across the broad com- 
 mon of life, shakes off its heavy load of sordidness, and 
 gladly swings to its shoulders the light burden of love 
 and kindness. It is the heart's hour, full of blissful con- 
 templation, rich promises, and the soul's happy revels. 
 We cordially echo the sentiment, " Happy morn, gar- 
 mented with the human virtues, it shows life to the eye, 
 lovely, as if 
 
 " Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars." 
 
250 INFLUENCE OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 Leigh Hunt concludes an essay on marriage as follows . 
 "There is no one thing more lovely in this life, more full 
 of the divinest courage, than when a young maiden, 
 from her past life, from her happy childhood, when she 
 rambled over every field and moor around her home ; 
 when a mother anticipated her wants and soothed her 
 little cares ; when brothers and sisters grew from merry 
 playmates to loving, trustful friends ; from the Christmas 
 gatherings and romps, the summer festivals in bower or 
 garden ; from the rooms sanctified by the death of rela- 
 tives ; from the holy and secure backgrounds of her 
 childhood, and girlhood, and maidenhood, looks out into 
 a dark and unillumined future, away from all that, and 
 yet unterrified, undaunted, leans her fair cheek upon 
 her lover's breast, and whispers, ' Dear heart ! I cannot 
 see, but I believe. The past was beautiful, but the future 
 I can trust with thee /'" 
 
 From a lecture recently delivered by Bulwer, we ex- 
 tract a few passages : "The law that binds the one man 
 to the one woman," eloquently exclaimed the lecturer, 
 "is indelibly written by nature, that wherever it is vio- 
 lated in general system, the human race is found to deter- 
 ioriate in mind and form. The ennobling influences of 
 women cease ; the wife is a companion — a hundred wives 
 are but a hundred slaves. Nor is this all, unless man 
 looks to a woman as a treasure to be wooed and won — her 
 smile the charm of his existence — her single heart the 
 range of his desires — that which deserves the name of 
 love cannot exist ; it is struck out of .the hateful system 
 of society. Now, if there be a passion in the human 
 breast which most tends to lift us out of egotism and 
 self — which most teaches us to love another — which pu- 
 rifies and warms the whole mortal being it is love, as we 
 of the North hold it and cherish it. For even when the 
 fair spring of youth has passed, and when the active life 
 is employed in such grave pursuits that the love of his 
 early years seems to him like a dream of romance, still 
 that love, having once lifted him out of egotism into 
 sympathy, does but pass into new forms and develop- 
 ment — it has locked his heart to charity and benevolence 
 
INFLUENCE OF MARRIAGE. 251 
 
 — it gives a smile to his home — it rises up in the eyes of 
 his children — from his heart it circulates insensibly on to 
 all the laws that protect the earth, to the native lands 
 which spread around it. Thus in the history of the 
 world we discover that wherever love is created, as 
 it were, and sanctioned by that equality between 
 the sexes which the permanent and holy union of 
 one heart with another proclaims ; there, too, patriotism, 
 liberty — the manly and gentle virtues — also find their 
 place ; and wherever, on the contra, polygamy is prac- 
 ticed and love disappears in the gross satiety of the 
 senses, there we find neither respect for humanity nor 
 reverence for home, nor affection for the natal soil. And 
 one reason why Greece is contrasted in all that dignifies 
 our nature, the effeminate and dissolute character of the 
 East which it overthrew, is, that Greece was the earliest 
 civilized country in which, on the borders of those great 
 monarchies, marriage was the sacred tie between one f 
 man and one woman — and man was the thoughtful father 
 of a home, not the wanton lord of a seraglio." 
 
 Steele says, wherever woman plights her truth, under 
 the sky of heaven, at the domestic hearth, or in the con- 
 secrated aisles, the ground is holy, the spirit of the hour 
 is sacramental. That it is thus felt even by the most 
 trivial may be observed at the marriage ceremony. 
 Though the mirth may be fast and furious before or after 
 the irrevocable formula is spoken, yet at that point of 
 time there is a shadow on the most laughing lip— a moist- 
 ure in the firmest eye. Wedlock, indissoluble, except 
 by an act of God — a sacrament whose solemnity reaches 
 to eternity — will always hold its rank in literature, as 
 the most impressive fact of human experience in dramatic 
 writing, whether of the stage or closet, the play or novel. 
 It must be so. If government, with all its usurpations 
 and aggressions, has appropriated history, let the less 
 ambitious portions of our literature be sacred to the 
 affections — to the family, based upon conjugal and parent- 
 al love, as that institution is the state which hitherto in 
 the world's annals, has been little else than the sad ex- 
 ponent of human ambition. 
 
252 INFLUENCE OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 Dr. Forbes Winslow, speaking of marriage says : — 
 " Nothing delights me more than to enter the neat little 
 tenement of the young couple, who, within perhaps two 
 or three years, without any resources but their own 
 knowledge or industry, have joined heart and hand, and 
 engaged to share together the responsibilities, duties, 
 interests, trials ancl pleasures of life. The industrious 
 wife is cheerfully employed with her own hands in do- 
 mestic duties, putting her house in order, or mending 
 her husband's clothes, or preparing the dinner, whilst, 
 perhaps, the little darling sits prattling on the floor, or 
 lies sleeping in the cradle, and every thing seems pre- 
 paring to welcome the happiest of husbands, and the 
 best of fathers, when he shall come from his toil to enjoy 
 the sweets of his little paradise. This is the true domestic 
 pleasure. Health, contentment, love, abundance, and 
 bright prospects, are all here. But it has become a prev- 
 alent sentiment, that a man must acquire his fortune 
 before he marries, that the wife must have no sympathy 
 nor share with him in the pursuit of it, in which most of the 
 pleasure truly consists; and the young married people 
 must set out with as large and expensive an establishment 
 as is becoming to those who have been wedded for twenty 
 years. This is very unhappy ; it fills the community 
 with bachelors, who are waiting to make their fortunes, 
 endangering virtue and promoting vice ; it destroys the 
 true economy and design of the domestic institution, 
 and inefficiency among females, who are expecting to be 
 taken up by fortune and passively sustained, without any 
 care or concern on their part — and thus many a wife 
 becomes, as a gentleman once remarked, not a c help- 
 mate,' but a 'help-eat.'" The Creator found that it was 
 not good for man to be alone. Therefore he made 
 woman to be a " helpmeet for him." And for many ages, 
 history has shown that u The permanent union of one 
 man, with one woman, establishes a relation of affections 
 and interests, which can, in no other way, be made to 
 exist between two human beings." To establish this re- 
 lation, was one of the great designs of God in giving 
 the rite to man; and by establishing this relation, mar- 
 
INFLUENCE OF MARRIAGE. 253 
 
 fiage becomes to him an aid in the stern conflict of life. 
 This it is in a theoretical point of view. This, too, 
 it has often proved in practical life. Many a man has 
 risen from obscurity to fame, who, in the days of his 
 triumphant victory, has freely and gratefully acknowl- 
 edged, that, to the sympathy and encouragement of his 
 wife, during the long and weary years of toil, he owed 
 very much of his achieved success. 
 
 The life of the great English artist, Flaxman, furnishes 
 a good example. At the age of twenty-seven, he mar- 
 ried. Soon after, meeting that prince of artists, Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, the latter said to him : "I am told you 
 are married ; if so, sir, I tell you, you are ruined for an 
 artist." Flaxman went home and told his wife. She 
 bravely replied: U I will never have it said that Ann 
 Dennman ruined John Flaxman for an artist!" For years 
 he toiled in obscurity. She encouraged, sympathized, 
 counseled. At length they went to Rome ; he to study, 
 she to help. Success crowned their labors. His merit 
 and greatness were acknowledged by admirers and rivals 
 alike. They returned to England, whither his fame had 
 preceded them. There he was elected Professor of 
 Sculpture to the Royal Academy, and won a glorious 
 fame. He was a patient toiler, but to his wife he was 
 largely indebted for his great success. Here we have a 
 practical illustration of what marriage was designed for, 
 and what it ought to be and do for man. 
 
 But in these progressive days, we have "sought out 
 many inventions." In our efforts to reform the evils and 
 improve upon the customs of our fathers, we have, in 
 some points, at least, changed to our own injury. On 
 the subject of marriage, there has been a decided change 
 of views. Where is the man, now, toiling in obscurity, 
 in hope of a future fame, who would marry for the sake 
 of encouragement and sympathy in his arduous work? 
 Where is the man just starting in life, who would (unless, 
 indeed, his intended had a fortune) think of marriage 
 as lying in the way to success in business?" If such a 
 man exists, he will be found far away from our great 
 cities, and will neither marry a fashionable wife, nor make 
 
254 INFLUENCE OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 what the world terms u a good match." A simple inci- 
 dent will illustrate the tendencies of the times and the 
 state of public opinion on this subject. A few weeks 
 since, I entered the store of a man, with whom I wished 
 to transact some business. He was in conversation with 
 a middle aged lady, who said to him as I approached ■ 
 "You ought to have a wife." His firm, decided reply, 
 seemed to be the language of honest conviction ; and 
 there was something of sadness in his tones, as he said: 
 "I calculate it will take me ten years to make money 
 enough to support a wife." After transacting my busi- 
 ness, 1 went away, thinking of the ten long, weary years 
 •of toil which stood between that man and a happy home. 
 And I have often thought of him since. Nearly thirty, 
 he has already reached an age, when, if ever, he is quali- 
 fied for marriage ; when, if ever, he needs sympathy and 
 encouragement. But he is only one among a multitude. 
 Our papers tell us, that in a single New England city, 
 there are nearly thirty thousand young men, already en- 
 gaged, who are putting off marriage until they can make 
 enough to support their wives. So it is throughout the 
 country. Young men need the restraining and elevating 
 influences of home. They know it and feel it, but they 
 have no money, and, therefore, can not marry. 
 
 As we look on these facts, we are forced to exclaim : 
 what an utter misconception of the ends to be attained ; 
 what a degradation of womanhood; what a folly of man, 
 is this modern idea of marriage ! The man must com- 
 mence business alone, fight his own battles without sym- 
 pathy or consolation, win, if possible, by years of ardu- 
 ous toil, a competence — and when the conflict is over, 
 the toil is past and the victory is won, then he can have 
 a wife and a home. If unsuccessful in business, he can 
 not marry. 
 
 The young lady who has been educated at boarding 
 schools, and spent the rest of her life in parlors and 
 drawing-rooms, is not qualified to cheer and encourage 
 a man in the stern battles of life. Such a young lady 
 could be but little help in business, and would be a great 
 expense. Men know this, and they know that they can 
 
INFLUENCE OF MARRIAGE. 255 
 
 not afford to marry until their fortunes are made. This 
 is a stern and unpleasant truth, nevertheless. It is a 
 truth which is not nattering to man, and it is a shame 
 to the womanhood of the nineteenth century. The 
 trouble lies, as I firmly believe, in our system of Female 
 Education. 
 
 Now, if matrimony is to become more and more diffi- 
 cult, who will suffer more by such a state of things ? It 
 must be woman. For, try to make her into a man, as 
 some may, it is impossible; she is his equal, but she is 
 not a man. The grape vine and the oak are equal, but 
 not the same. Whoever builds his ship with the grape 
 vine will come to grief: whoever makes wine with the 
 acorn will have a bitter mouth. Woman needs the 
 strength and courage of man, and he needs her cheerful- 
 ness, her sympathy, her consolation. If man does not 
 marry her, he will use her and trample upon her; he 
 does it now in Paris, in London, and in New York. She 
 will be his mistress, if she is not his wife. And then, 
 when she is sick, or ill-tempered, or stupid, he will throw 
 her away. If she is his wife, the mother of his children, 
 the partner of his successes and the consoler of his fail- 
 ures, then, and only as such, will he cherish, defend and 
 sustain her. Time was when woman was described as 
 the helpmeet of man. Was it only a phrase, and mean- 
 ingless? Possibly; but then, words in the Bible mostly 
 did mean something. The time, too, was, and yet is in 
 some quarters of the world, when a woman was a help- 
 meet, and accepted and worked up to her position as 
 such. She did not demand everything and do nothing. 
 Why is marriage easy and universal in such a country as 
 Japan? Life there is simple; two or three small rooms, 
 a few dishes, a mat upon which to sleep, one dress, a 
 little rice and some fruit — these suffice for all, rich and 
 poor alike, in a great city like Yeddo, which has a civi- 
 lization as perfect and as old as ours. And it is not a 
 life of stupidity or barbarism ; all can read and write ; 
 manners are good; books and pictures are plenty; 
 theaters abound; processions and festival days enliven 
 life. It is easy to see, therefore, why marriage is not a 
 
256 INFLUENCE OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 fearful thing iu that far-off land, and, by contrast, it is 
 easy to understand why few have the courage to dare 
 it here. 
 
 The first question to be asked by any sane man is, can 
 I properly support a wife if I take one ? Then he counts 
 the cost of living as the woman of his preference would 
 wish, and lo ! he finds, to his amazement, that his income 
 is vastly too small to support even a modest modern 
 establishment ; and somewhat saddened by the reflec- 
 tion, he plunges into labor, and courts business with an 
 assiduity that takes away his health eventually, in hope 
 of attaining an income that shall enable him to marry 
 and have a home of his own. And this is the secret of 
 all the hard, unending toil of all the young men ol to-day 
 who are fast approaching thirty years of age — this is the 
 reason of so many disappointed men and waiting women, 
 deny it or hide it as you may. u But, says some good 
 woman, you do us injustice ; for any woman who truly 
 loves a man will adapt herself to his circumstances with 
 the greatest pleasure. But what man of any sensitive- 
 ness, or high sense of honor, would take a woman from 
 easy circumstances, and a pleasant and well furnished 
 home, to adorn his little four rooms and do his house 
 work, as the first principles of economy would demand 
 of him? Few will do it; for though the woman signifies 
 her willingness to take up with such experience, we are 
 all such creatures of circumstance that there would be 
 complainings on her part, eventually, and sickness of 
 over-exertion, and unhappiness from many cares — all of 
 which would render marriage anything else than pleas- 
 ant. And so the young men very wisely think — prefer- 
 ring a few years more of single loneliness, in order to 
 obtain money enough to support a modest house of be- 
 tween twelve or fifteen hundred dollars a year expense, 
 rather than to place a modernly educated woman into 
 the house of six hundred dollars a year, where she must 
 do her own work. "Now, what is the remedy ? Plainly, 
 that women must fit themselves to be such wives as the 
 young men must have. Else the young men must fit 
 themselves to be such husbands as the women want, and 
 
INFLUENCE OF MARRIAGE. 257 
 
 spend the very choicest years of their life in the dismal 
 drudgery of a ceaseless toil, breaking down health, hap- 
 piness, energy, only to give themselves up to marriage 
 when the best of their manhood is gone. The women 
 must choose for themselves which it shall be, for the 
 matter is solely in their hands. Let mothers say to their 
 daughters, put on that calico gown, go into the kitchen 
 and prepare dinner, take charge of this household, and 
 fit yourself to become a wife and a mother — let the 
 young woman cheerfully consent to such service ; and, 
 instead of lavishing all thought, and time, and money, 
 upon the adornment of the body, seek to accustom the 
 hand to proper industry, and to school the mind to pro- 
 per tastes — then there will be no longer complaint that 
 young men cannot afford to marry, and we shall have 
 beautiful, modest houses all around us, and women will 
 have loving husbands, and life shall once more have 
 something of the truthfulness and virtue which it had 
 in the days of our blessed fathers and mothers, when it 
 was woman's ambition to become the head of the house, 
 and the mother of noble children." 
 
 But while young men say they cannot marry because 
 the girls of this generation are too extravagant, the fault 
 by no means is altogether with the girls. In the first 
 place, young men as a general thing, admire the elegant 
 costumes in which many ladies appear, and do not hesi- 
 tate to express their admiration to those who are more 
 plainly dressed. And what is the natural effect of this ? 
 In the second place many young men are too proud 
 themselves "to commence their married life in a quiet, 
 economical way. They are not willing to marry until 
 they have money enough to continue all their own pri- 
 vate luxuries, and also support a wife in style. The 
 difficulty is not altogether on either side ; but if both 
 men and women would be true to the best feelings of 
 their hearts, and careless about what the world would 
 say, pure and happy and noble homes would be more 
 abundant. 
 
 Statistics, moralities and sentiments have all been 
 brought forward in discussing the question as to the 
 
 17 
 
258 INFLUENCE OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 comparative health, happiness and duration of life of the 
 married and unmarried. The verdict must be con- 
 sidered as given in favor of the married. 
 
 In Edinburg, a short time ago, Dr. Stark, read a paper 
 on the influence of marriage on the death-rate of men 
 and women in Scotland : Dr. Stark based his calculations 
 on the statistics issued by the register-general, and 
 brought out results which, to a great measure, he be- 
 lieved, were now presented for the first time. He first 
 showed the results in the case of men. He foutfd that 
 between twenty and twenty-five years of age the death- 
 rate of bachelors was exactly double that of the married 
 men. From twenty years of age to the close of life the 
 mean age attained by married men was fifty-nine and a 
 half years, while that of bachelors was only forty years, 
 in other words, married men had the chance of living 
 nineteen and a half years longer than those who were 
 unmarried. From twenty-five years of age to the close 
 of life the mean age of married men was only forty-seven 
 and seven-tenths. Yery nearly one-half of all the bach- 
 elors who died had not attained thirty years of age. The 
 results, Dr. Stark thought, clearly proved that the mar- 
 ried state was the condition of life best fitted for man- 
 kind, and that a prolongation of life by that state was a 
 special provision of nature. It was based on fixed laws 
 of life. Married men were generally more regular in 
 their habits, better housed, better cared for, and more 
 under the condition of health and long life. In the case 
 of women also, the results were in favor of the married 
 as compared with the unmarried, though the difference 
 was not so marked as in the case of the men. Married 
 women died at a greater proportion during the quin- 
 quennial periods — -from fifteen to twenty, and twenty- 
 five to thirty, but at a lower rate from thirty to forty. 
 The death-rate in the case of married women, was higher 
 between forty and forty -five years of age, but the rate 
 was in their favor again from the latter period to old age. 
 
YOUNG WOMEN AND MARRIAGE. 
 
 Children should not marry. A young woman cannot 
 be considered in any sense prepared for this union under 
 twenty-one ; twenty-five is better. She is not mentally 
 cr physically developed before this. Solemn duties, cares 
 and responsibilities await her, to which she needs large 
 physical development, mature judgment, good calcula- 
 tion, domestic training, and a knowledge of men and 
 things. Girls of sixteen and eighteen cannot have these. 
 They cannot tell what they really like or dislike — who 
 and what will meet their necessity — until they are ma- 
 tured themselves. 
 
 You cannot over-estimate the importance of a thorough 
 knowledge of the man you desire to marry. Uprightness, 
 fixedness of principle, an unselfish and generous disposi- 
 tion and good business abilities should be regarded as 
 indispensable, If a young man is a good son and brother, 
 he will make a good husband, provided you do your 
 part. Do not be won by trifles. A handsome face, fine 
 figure and noble bearing may be desired, but they con- 
 stitute a small part of what you really need. They may 
 be but the gilt which hides some terrible deformity, and 
 which by and by will cause you emotions of disgust, ter- 
 rible grief or constant unrest. It is not wise to aspire far 
 above your present station in life, as this would give rise 
 to solicitude lest you should fail to adapt yourself to your 
 changed circumstances. Marriage should not be entered 
 upon without a thorough knowledge of its physiological 
 laws, else much domestic misery may be expected. Neither 
 should it be sought for worldly gain or passion. True 
 esteem and affection, united to adaptation and congeni- 
 ality of taste, should form its basis. When this does not 
 exist before marriage, it is hopeless to expect it after- 
 wards. You must look out for breakers ahead, and feed 
 the flames of love with pure oil. You will need fully as 
 much tact, skill and patience to manage another heart as 
 your own. If you cannot think alike, be resolved to 
 
 259 
 
260 YOUNG WOMEN AND MARRIAGE. 
 
 yield rather than differ. Avoid altercation and recrimi- 
 nation. Be forbearing and forgiving if need be. I would 
 also suggest that those graces and charms which won a 
 lover's heart be still kept for the husband. Never con- 
 sider it too much trouble to dress tastefully and in your 
 best for your husband's eye. Give him freely of those 
 graceful attentions and pleasant surprises which will 
 make him happy, if you expect a continuance of love- 
 like attentions from him. Hide all the disagreeables in 
 person, toilet and home, and keep the best for love. 
 
 Do not, as you value life and its comforts, marry a man 
 who is naturally cruel. If he will wantonly torture a 
 poor dumb dog, a cat, or even a snake, fly from him as 
 you would from the cholera. We would sooner see our 
 daughter dying of cholera, than married to a cruel hearted 
 man. If his nature delights in torture, he will not spare 
 his wife, or his helpless children. When we see a man 
 practicing cruelty on any poor, helpless creature, or beat- 
 ing a fractious horse unmercifully, we write over against 
 his name — devil, and shun him accordingly. 
 
 We once knew a man, aye, a gentleman, who, during 
 a ride for pleasure, became so demoniacally enraged at 
 his horse, which refused to go, that he sprang from his 
 carriage, drew his knife, and cut out an eye of the poor 
 brute. The lady who accompanied him fainted, suffered 
 a long nervous illness, and will never recover from the 
 horror the outrage gave. And we knew the young lady 
 who, knowing this of him, was foolhearted enough to 
 become his wife. And we know how he tortured her. 
 How he outraged all her feelings ; how he delighted to 
 destroy whatever she prized, or took pleasure in. How 
 in his fits of passion he broke up her furniture, seized her 
 by the shoulder and shook her till she could not crawl 
 to bed ; how he beat her ; how he kept her poor babe 
 black and blue with blows and pinche.s, until her parents 
 took her home, and sheltered her from his cruelty. 
 
 If you have a suitor whom you feel inclined to favor, 
 look narrowly into the temper and disposition of the man. 
 Love may soften it for awhile, or it may induce him to 
 restrain, or disguise it, but, be assured, the natural tern- 
 
YOUNG WOMEN AND MARRIAGE. 261 
 
 per will remain, and the time will come when your pre- 
 sence will be no restraint upon him. We have heard 
 wives complain, " I was so deceived in my husband; men 
 are so deceitful," &c. But we believe in nine cases out 
 of ten, these women deceived themselves. They suffered 
 the romance of their own foolish hearts to adorn their 
 lover with all the excellencies which their fancy attributed 
 to a perfect manly character, and to draw a veil over all 
 his vices and defects, which if it did not conceal them, 
 greatly softened or disguised their features. Men are 
 not perfect — women are not perfect. In all cases, there 
 must exist a necessity to bear and forbear, but it does 
 not therefore follow that you should marry a bad man. 
 If you do so, you deserve chastisement ; but a life-long 
 misery is a terrible punishment. A bad man's wife must 
 either live in a continual torment of fear, apprehension, 
 and the bitter disappointment of her fruitless efforts to 
 please ; or she must become callous, cold, insensible to 
 pain, and consequently to pleasure. Will you take upon 
 yourselves either of those bitter alternatives ? We hope 
 not. 
 
 How many young women, by uniting their destinies 
 with tipplers, or men of confirmed intemperate habits, 
 have involved themselves in lives of sorrow and often 
 shame ! " Yet in spite of all the wretchedness of drunk- 
 ards' wives," says Mr. Cuyler, " young women are con- 
 tinually willing to marry men who are in the habit of 
 indulging in the social glass ! Ladies often refuse the 
 marriage offers of young men because they are too poor, 
 or of too humble a family, or too plain in person or 
 manners. But only now and then one has good sense 
 enough to refuse to unite herself with a man who will 
 not pledge himself to total abstinence. A rich and 
 fashionable young man has commonly no trouble to get 
 a wife, even though he is hardly sober long enough to 
 pronounce the marriage vow. But a teetotaler in coarse 
 raiment might be snubbed as a vulgar fellow who has 
 never seen society. Ladies! before you begin to scold 
 at me for this impious thing, just look around and see if 
 this is not true." This is an important subject, and you 
 
262 YOUNG WOMEN AND MARRIAGE. 
 
 should consider it well. It involves your happiness and 
 respectability in this world, and perhaps your salvation 
 in the next. You should reject the hand of any man 
 who indulges in the intoxicating cup. What is riches, 
 station, or anything worth without sobriety, virtue and 
 character ? Beware. 
 
 Don't marry a man whom you are sure of not loving, 
 no matter how long you have been engaged to him. 
 
 We celebrate the wedding, and make merry over the 
 honeymooD. The poet paints the beauties and blushes 
 of the blooming bride ; and the bark of matrimony, with 
 its freight of untested love, is launched on the uncertain 
 ocean of experiment, amid kind wishes and rejoicings. 
 But on that precarious sea are many storms, and even 
 the calm has its perils; and only when the bark has 
 weathered these, and landed its cargo in the haven of 
 domestic peace, can we pronounce the voyage prosper 
 ous, and congratulate the adventurer on his merited and 
 enviable reward. 
 
 In a great majority of cases, the elopement of a young 
 lady is unwise, giddy, ungrateful, immodest, and evinces 
 a lascivious appetite and reckless disposition. Wh;y 
 should she desert and distress those who have loved, 
 nurtured and cherished her through all her past years, 
 to throw herself into the arms of a comparative stranger, 
 who has done nothing for her, and whose protestations 
 of affection have yet to undergo the first trial ? It is 
 every way unworthy of pure and gentle maidenhood. 
 We can imagine but one excuse for her elopement — 
 namely , the efforts of parents or guardians to coerce her 
 into marrying some one she does not love. To avoid such 
 a fate, she is justified in running away ; for no parent has 
 or ever had a right to constrain a daughter to marriage 
 against her will. But where the parents are willing to 
 wait, the daughter should also consent to wait, until her 
 choice is assented to or she attains her legal majority. 
 Then, if she chooses to marry in opposition to her par- 
 ents' wishes, let her quit their home openly, frankly, in 
 broad daylight, and in such a manner as shall kindly but 
 utterly preclude any pretence that her act is clandestine 
 
YOUNG MEN AND MARRIAGE. 263 
 
 or ill-considered. No one should be persuaded or coerced 
 to marry where she does not love ; but to wait a year or 
 two for the assent of those who have all her life done 
 what they could for her welfare, no daughter should 
 esteem a hardship. There is some truth to be told about 
 the u common run" of masculine prowlers by night about 
 garden walls and under bed-room windows, in quest of 
 opportunities to pour seducing flatteries into the ears of 
 simple misses ; but we have not time to tell it now . As 
 a general rule, they are licentious, good-for-nothing ad- 
 venturers, who would much rather marry a living than 
 work for it, and who speculate on the chances of " bring- 
 ing the old folks round " after a year or two. A true 
 man would not advise, much less urge, the woman he 
 loved to take a step which must inevitably lessen the 
 respect felt for her, and violate the trust reposed in her 
 by those who had loved and cherished her all her days. 
 
 YOUNG MEN AND MARRIAGE. 
 
 It has long been a theory of ours that a woman is 
 always at the bottom of everything very good, or very 
 bad, which is done in the world. If you find a man 
 achieving greatness, you have only to go back to his 
 cradle, and in the lines of the mother's face that watches 
 there, you will see the lines of energy, determination, 
 will — latent properties they may be, if her life is a calm 
 one — but the properties which made his fortune are 
 transmitted to her child with her blood, and thus nour- 
 ished with the first blood drawn from her bosom. If a 
 man robs and murders, nine times out of ten he does it 
 to please, or obtain the means to gratify a woman. If 
 he toils honestly, and accumulates wealth by self-denial, 
 it is to pour it into her lap. In short, woman makes or 
 mars our life. The effect she has exercised over all those 
 whom, in the quaint language of an old writer, ''un- 
 happy love of poesie and letters had led astray," is 
 shown in a late number of Leigh Hunt's Journal. 
 
 Dryden married unhappily, and how much of the ven- 
 omous sting of his satire, how much of his unpoetic, 
 
264 YOUNG MEN AND MARRIAGE. 
 
 coarse depreciation of woman, has its origin therein. 
 Addison did by no means equal the bacheior Spectator. 
 Pope refrained from matrimony, (his physique, indeed^ 
 was not calculated to win hearts) and may we not im- 
 agine that the "divine little artist " might have produced 
 something beyond the sphere of mere art, had successful 
 love and domestic comfort warmed his heart, and so 
 ripened the Rape of the Lock into a higher creation of 
 the Dunciadf Swift also avoided marriage — wherefore, 
 no man shall know ; — with his heart vibrating between 
 a Stella and a Vanesse, and descended, a very question- 
 able moral man, through a morbid old age, to a cheerless 
 tomb ; leaving his character as an inexplicable enigma 
 to all times. Nay, in our days have we not seen Lord 
 Byron struggling in his fiery course, without repose, 
 without definite purpose, through a maze of contradiction, 
 wrath and profligacy, to an awful Nowhither ? — a man 
 who married most unhappily, whose heart was cauterized 
 by the loss of the only woman he, perhaps, ever truly 
 loved. His writings, his actions tell us that in his deep- 
 est abandonment to vice, the ghost of his first and purest 
 love rose ever and anon before him to frown a clear re- 
 proof upon his wayward career. But even the loss of 
 Mary Chaworth might have been nullified, had his mar- 
 riage ended well. It did not ; the unwise marriage magni- 
 fied and prolonged the unwise life, and prepared the 
 early death. These incidents are striking, because the 
 actors in them had the world for a stage, and all men's 
 eyes to watch them ; but the truth is quite as great, 
 applied to meaner men. It is the wife that makes the 
 home, and home makes the man. Whenever we see a 
 man walking among men blameless, we take it for granted 
 that the angel who keeps his feet is the angel of home, 
 a blameless wife. 
 
 Marriage has many pains, but celibacy has no plea- 
 sures ; marriage should be considered as the most solemn 
 league of perpetual friendship. 
 
 Marriage is the best state for a man in general ; and 
 every man is a worse man in proportion as he is unfit 
 for the marriage state. 
 
YOUNG MEN AND MARRIAGE. 265 
 
 When youth weds youth for love, it is beautiful ; when 
 youth weds age for money, it is monstrous, and only 
 hate, misery and criminality can come from it. Of those 
 "thrice sodden fools" who marry their grandfathers and 
 grandmothers, old Thomas Fuller says with equal truth 
 and wit — " They that marry ancient people merely in ex- 
 pectation to bury them, hang themselves, in hopes some 
 one may come and cut the halter." 
 
 Who marries for love takes a wife ; who marries for 
 the sake of convenience takes a mistress ; who marries 
 for consideration takes a lady. You are loved by your 
 wife, regarded by your mistress, tolerated by your lady. 
 You have a wife for yourself, a mistress for your house 
 and its friends, and a lady for the world. Your wife will 
 agree with you, your mistress will accommodate you, and 
 your lady will manage you. Your wife will take care of 
 your household, your mistress of your house, your lady 
 of appearance. If you are sick, your wife will nurse 
 you, your mistress will visit you, and your lady will en- 
 quire after your health. You take a walk with your wife, 
 a ride with your mistress, and join partners with your 
 lady. Your wife will share your grief, your mistress your 
 money, and your lady your debts. If you are dead, 
 your wife will shed tears, your mistress lament, and your 
 lady wear mourning. A year after death marries again 
 your wife, in six months your mistress, and in six weeks 
 or sooner, when mourning is over, your lady. 
 
 Men and women before marriage are as figures and 
 cyphers. The woman is the cypher, and counts for noth- 
 ing till she gets the figure of a husband beside her, when 
 she becomes of importance herself, and adds tenfold to 
 the sum of his. But this, it must be observed, occurs 
 only when she gets and remains on the right side of him, 
 for when she shifts from this position, he returns to his 
 lesser estate, and she to her original insignificance. 
 
 Marriage offers the most effective opportunities for 
 spoiling the life of another. Nobody can debase, harass 
 and ruin a woman so fatally as her own husband, and 
 nobody can do a tithe so much to chill a man's aspira- 
 tions, to paralyze his energies, as his wife. A man is 
 
266 YOUNG MEN AND MARRIAGE. 
 
 never irretrievably ruined in his prospects until lie mar- 
 ries a bad woman. The Bible tells us that as the climb- 
 ing a sandy way is to the feet of the aged, so is a wife 
 full of words to a quiet man. A cheerful wife is a rain- 
 bow in the sky when her husband's mind is tossed on the 
 storms of anxiety and care. A good wife is the greatest 
 earthly blessing. A man is what his wife makes him. It 
 is the mother who moulds the character and destiny of 
 the child. Make marriage a matter of moral judgment. 
 Marry in your own religion. Marry into a different blood 
 and temperament from your own. Marry into a family 
 which you have long known. 
 
 Husbands and wives of different religious persuasions 
 do not generally live happily. When the spiritual influ- 
 ences are antagonistic, the conjugal union is not com- 
 plete, for it lacks the unity essential to the fulfilment of 
 serious obligations, and there is an entire absence of that 
 sound and reciprocated confidence — that mutual faith, 
 which, although their roots be in the earth, have their 
 branches in the sky of affection. After a time this spir- 
 itual dissension is apt to break out into hostilities. Dis- 
 cussion begins the battle, then persuasion enters the field T 
 and unless one or the other yield, there is silent aliena- 
 tion slumbering under the marble surface of apparent 
 affection, and too frequently open and angry opposition, 
 which at once tears away the mask from a marriage 
 which commenced in doubt and dread, silently glided 
 into delicate hypocrisy, and ended in a strange and ter- 
 rible revulsion. We have not much faith in conversions, 
 for the memory of early associations, and carefully 
 taught predilections of home, parents, and friends, rarely 
 dies ; if it does not fall into a trance, when it awakes it 
 fondly grasps at the body and form of the past, and all 
 that affected the soul in the interim fades away as if it 
 had not been. And there is the solemn question of off- 
 spring to be considered. The rule is that the boys 
 should be educated in the faith of the father, the girls in 
 that of the mother. Here is another element of discord 
 introduced into the family, circle it cannot be, there being 
 no continuity of any kind. And what an awful spectacle 
 
MARRIAGE OF FIRST COUSINS. 267 
 
 is presented to us ! Brothers spurning the creed of sis- 
 ters, and sisters lamenting over that of brothers. The 
 after hatred thus engendered staggers the imagination, 
 and shows us what a terrible thing is the human mind 
 when weakened and distracted by opposite opinions, and 
 that rigidity of belief which only a dissolution of the 
 poor mortal frame can melt. But the subject is painful, 
 and however we may wound the susceptibilities of ap- 
 parently fond lovers — we say apparently advisedly, for 
 there can be no real love where there is " no silver chord 
 to bind it." — we unhesitatingly express the opinion that 
 marriages between persons who do not tread in the same 
 religious path, are wholly unadvisable — nay, wrong — 
 for they tend to invite a future teeming with shadows, 
 clouds and darkness. 
 
 He who marries a beauty only, is like a buyer of 
 cheap furniture — the varnish that caught the eye will 
 not endure the fireside blaze. 
 
 Of all the actions of a man's life, his marriage does 
 least concern other people, yet of all actions of our life, 
 'tis most meddled with by other people. 
 
 If you observe a gentleman with his arm around the 
 waist of a young lady, it is morally certain that they 
 are not married. 
 
 MARRIAGE OF FIRST COUSINS. 
 
 The evil consequences of the marriage of blood rela- 
 tions, have become so formidahle that they have finally 
 commanded the attention of Chief Executive Officers 
 and Legislatures of several States — usually the very last 
 parties to whose consideration such important facts are 
 presented. In the State of Virginia, the consequences 
 of family intermarriages have become appalling. In 
 Kentucky, similar disastrous effects have been realized. 
 Governor Magoffin in his message, dwells upon the sub- 
 ject in language which fairly portrays the extent and 
 magnitude of the evils growing out of legalized incest, 
 and earnestly recommends the passage of a law utterly 
 prohibiting the marriage of first cousins. He says there 
 
268 AT WHAT AGE TO MARRIAGE. 
 
 are over 800 idiots and feeble-minded children in Ken 
 tucky, and the number is steadily increasing. He attri- 
 butes the evil chiefly to the cause above assigned, and 
 while recommending the establishment of a School of 
 Imbeciles, he exhorts the Legislature to pass an act for 
 the "prevention of marriage between first cousins," and 
 proceeds to remark : " By a single act of the Legislature 
 you save in the future an immense amount of suffering. 
 You can diminish, according to the opinion of those who 
 have fully investigated this subject, twenty per cent, of 
 the number of imbeciles, insane deaf mutes, and blind 
 children. Render the marriage of cousins illegal, and a 
 great evil is at once eradicated. At least from fifteen to 
 twenty per cent, of all these sufferers, are the offspring 
 of cousins. A gentleman of science, of learning, and 
 enlarged experience, who has for a long time paid a great 
 deal of attention to this subject, recently informed me 
 he never yet had seen all the children so related sound 
 in body and mind. There is always among some of them 
 some defect, mentally or bodily. A large number of the 
 pupils (so say the teachers) in the Deaf and Dumb Asy- 
 lums are the children of cousins. At Danville there are 
 four sisters, deaf and dumb, the children of cousins ; they 
 have two speaking brothers, both in delicate health. 
 There is also, from another family, there, a sister and 
 brother, children of cousins. There is another instance 
 of sister and brother, there, also deaf and dumb, the 
 children of second cousins, showing that the defect ex- 
 tends beyond even the second degree. In the institu- 
 tion at Danville as in other States, I am informed from 
 sixteen to twenty per cent, of the pupils are now, and 
 always have been, the children of cousins." 
 
 AT WHAT AGE TO MARRY. 
 
 The institution of marriage is one of the wisest in the 
 arrangement of Providence. In no one of the judicial 
 laws, for the perpetuity and happiness of the race, has 
 the Deity exhibited greater wisdom, than in that of in- 
 stituting marriage between the sexes. The division of 
 
AT WHAT AGE TO MARRY. 26£ 
 
 the race into families, where equal and joint interests 
 obtain, where each necessarily cares lor and feels for the 
 other, is marked by divine wisdom, and is a source of the 
 highest human happiness and felicity. Marriage is hon- 
 orable. It is desirable. We are so constituted that we 
 naturally engage in it. We have affections. They must 
 have an altar at which to bow — a shrine at which to wor- 
 ship ; and what altar or shrine more pure and holy than 
 those of plighted love ? The desire to marry is innate. 
 The Poet has it thus : 
 
 " The heart, like a tendril accustomed to cling, 
 Let it go where it will, cannot flourish alone ; 
 But wiJl lean to the nearest and lovliest thing, 
 It can twine to itself, and make closely its own." 
 
 It has been ascertained by an analysis of 24,000 mar- 
 riages in Massachusetts, that an unmarried female at the 
 age of twenty has lost one-fourth of her chances of ever 
 becoming united in wedlock ; at twenty-five, three-fourths, 
 and at thirty, nine-tenths. Still this is no good reason 
 why hasty and improper connections should be formed. 
 A female at twenty-five is far more likely to marry well, 
 than at an earlier period. Her judgment is more mature ; 
 she will be governed less by fancy, and more by common 
 sense, and instead of taking to a dashing young coxcomb, 
 or pert dandy, will prefer a man of more years than her- 
 self, who has become established in business — has experi- 
 ence — has character and prospects of success in navigating 
 the sea of life. Solid acquirements, and amiability of 
 heart and disposition, should weigh far more in the mind 
 of the female, when about to give her hand in marriage, 
 than mere show of person and polish of address. I care 
 not if there be considerable disparity of ages, provided 
 other things are equal. I would much rather a daughter 
 of mine would marry a person twenty years older than 
 herself, if he posseses character, influence, goodness, and 
 means of support, united with warm attachment, than to 
 start off in life with some dashing young beau, with more 
 show than brains, and far less affection than romantic 
 love. True and solid virtues are the only foundation for 
 abiding affection ; where these exist, they form a basis 
 as enduring as iron, and as lasting as granite. There is 
 
270 AT WHAT AGE TO MARRY. 
 
 no higher or more tranquil bliss, than that experienced 
 when heart communes with heart — when two souls unite 
 and form one, like mingling dew-drops on the rose, that 
 scarcely touch the flower, but mirror the heavens in their 
 little orbs. When perfect love transforms two souls each 
 to the other's image — when one heart beats in two bos- 
 oms — one spirit speaks with a divided tongue — when the 
 same soul is eloquent in mutual eyes — there is a rapture, 
 deep, serene, heart-felt and abiding, in that mysterious 
 sympathy between congenial souls, which puts to shame 
 the extatic but short-lived bliss of romance. But to the 
 hearts united by virtue's affections, there comes that glad 
 reliance, that sense of trust, that rest of spirit, that ex- 
 ceeding peace, which words cannot portray, which to 
 know is to feel. 
 
 A superiority of years in the husband strikes us as most 
 befitting. His position as head of the family — his charge 
 and oversight of all its interests — the stern necessity that 
 he shall have lived long enough in the world to have prof- 
 ited by experience — all conspire to teach this doctrine — to 
 maintain this sentiment. He is the oak and she the vine, 
 ^nd it is of importance that the former be well grounded 
 in experience, and have sufficient age and strength to allow 
 the latter to wind around and lean for support on its manly 
 trunk ; and what matters, if it has lived to share in some rude 
 storms, and lost some of its pristine beauty ; its true value 
 is none the less, but on the other hand, somewhat enhanced. 
 
 " What is the blooming tincture of the skin, 
 To peace of mind and harmony within ? 
 What the bright sparkling of the finest eye, 
 To the soft soothing of a calm reply ? 
 Can comliness of form, or shape, or air, 
 With comliness ot words, or deeds compare ? 
 No ! those at first the unwary heart may gain, 
 But these, these only, can the heart retain." 
 
 When the mother takes no pains, the marriage of the 
 daughter, even if not in itself ineligible, is likely to be 
 deferred. For the age at which marriage is to be con- 
 tracted, is a very material consideration. Aristotle was 
 of the opinion that the bridegroom should be thirty-seven 
 years of age, and the bride eighteen, alleging physical 
 relation which I venture to think exceedingly inconclu- 
 
AT WHAT AGE TO MARRY. 271 
 
 sive. Eighteen for the bride is the least to be objected 
 to, and would yet be rather earlier in this climate. A girl 
 of that age may not be absolutely unprepared for mar- 
 riage; but she has hardly had time for that longing and 
 yearning affection which is to be her best security after- 
 wards. The woman should marry rather before than after 
 that culminating period of personal charms which, vary- 
 ing much in different individuals, is but a short period 
 in any, and occurs in early youth in almost all. She 
 should marry between twenty and thirty years of age, 
 but nearer the former than the latter period. Now the 
 man at such an age would probably be too light for the 
 man's part in such a marriage ; and the more so when 
 marrying a wife equally young. For it is very well 
 known that when two people join together in matrimony, 
 it is as if one sweet pea should be put up as a prop to 
 another. The man, therefore, may be considered the 
 most marriageable when he is a little beyond thirty. In 
 the case of a serious and thoughtful man, it need not be 
 deferred so long, for in such a case, a remark made in a 
 letter of Lord Bacon's will probably be verified — that a 
 man finds himself several years older after his marriage. 
 Dr. James Johnson, in his " Economy of Health," says, 
 u The most proper age for entering the holy bonds of 
 matrimony has been discussed but never settled. I am 
 entitled to my opinion ; and although I can not here give 
 the ground on which it rests, the reader may take it for 
 granted, that I could adduce, were this the proper place, 
 a great number of reasons, both moral and physical, for 
 the dogma I am about to propound. The maxim ; then, 
 which I would inculcate, is this — that matrimony should 
 not be contracted before the first year of the fourth Sep- 
 tennial, on the part of the females, nor before the last 
 year of the same in the case of the male ; in other words, 
 the female should be at least 21, and the male 28 years 
 old. That there should be seven years difference between 
 the ages of the sexes, at whatever period of life the solemn 
 contract is entered upon, need not be urged, as it is uni- 
 versally admitted there is a difference of seven years, 
 not in the actual duration of life in the two sexes, but in 
 
272 LOVE, MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE. 
 
 the stamina of the constitution — the symmetry of the 
 form, and the lineaments of the face. 
 
 Some who are in doubt upon the question may per- 
 haps be guided by precedence. For their information 
 we will state that Adam married at a very early age in- 
 deed, — so early it may be set down at 0. Shakspeare 
 was 18 when he perpetrated the poetic feat; Ben John- 
 sou, 21 ; Franklin, 24; Dante, Kelper, Fuller, Johnson, 
 Burke, Scott, 26; Tycho, Brahe, Byron, Washington and 
 Bonaparte, 27; Penn and Sterling, 28; Linnae and Nel- 
 son, 29; Burns, 30; Chaucer, Hogarth and Peel, 32; 
 Woodworth and Davy, 33 ; Sir William Jones and Wel- 
 lington, 37; Wilberforce, 38; Luther, 42; Addison, 44; 
 Wesley and Young, 47 ; Swift, 49 ; Buffon, 55 ; old Parr, 
 last time, 120. The last was so much above par that 
 'twas no wonder he found a ready taker. 
 
 LOVE, MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE. 
 
 That love is the leading element of the highest happi- 
 ness in marriage ; that love, while it lasts, covers a mul- 
 titude of errors, privations, misfortunes — even sins — I do 
 not doubt. But the question is, how far is love, when 
 unaccompanied by any other of the conditions which I 
 have mentioned as belonging to a perfect marriage, itself 
 a justification of marriage ? True love works wonders ; 
 but it cannot prevent the physical and mental ailments 
 which develop themselves in people of feeble organisms. 
 It cannot supply a lack of intelligence, a want of force 
 in either husband or wife ; and, as all housekeepers know, 
 it cannot "make the pot boil." Love alone, when we 
 consider its proverbial instability, and the small chance 
 it has of surviving under bleak conditions, is certainly an 
 insufficient capital upon which to commence the partner- 
 ship of marriage. This is true of even the highest and 
 strongest loved; how much more so of the hasty and 
 passionate attachments which lead to so many thousands 
 of marriages! There is an infinity of false sentiment 
 about the passion of love. While I would not cast a 
 doubt upon the existence of noble love, of devotion T 
 
LOVE, MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE. 273 
 
 and of passion which no sorrow or trial can tire, which 
 is even refined and strengthened by suffering, yet the 
 value, the office, the very nature of love in our ordinary 
 life is greatly misunderstood. Love is the most exag- 
 gerated passion in literature. It holds in our imagina- 
 tion a position which it does not hold in the life of one 
 man or woman in a thousand. " Being the supreme pas- 
 sion of modern art," says a recent writer, "it becomes 
 necessary to sound high its praises. We should suppose, 
 if we read only novels and poetry, that the one thing in- 
 teresting in life is the relation of the sexes and the anx- 
 ieties of pairing. Many young people are so dizzy with 
 love that they are unable to go on with the other inter- 
 ests of life. They cannot see men as they are, engaged 
 in their daily work, pursuing their various ends and living 
 a multifarious life, of which love is but a single element." 
 Our regard for the passion oversteps the healthy limit, 
 and becomes morbid ; we judge of it untruly ; we attend 
 to its promptings with absurd expectations , we teach 
 ourselves that the passion is uncontrollable, and regard 
 it as a kind of fate ; and we glorify the supremacy of a 
 f^rst love, as if the heart did not require a training as 
 varied as the intellect. Considering the widespread 
 misery which our misconceptions of love have wrought, 
 we might doubt whether this passion was not the greatest 
 misfortune as well as the greatest blessing in the world. 
 We may conclude, in spite of Chaucer, that Love's alle- 
 gience is not the only thing needful to make a perma- 
 nently happy marriage. 
 
 There are all sorts of weddings and marriages; it 
 would take many pages to register them, from the mar- 
 riage of true minds to that of a couple of money-bags. 
 Sometimes the bride and bridegroom are masked figures, 
 tricked up and disguised, so that it would be hard to say 
 which is the most deceived in the other. Sometimes it 
 is a living creature united to a shadow. Have you ever 
 known a man married to a doll ? He chose her out and 
 paid for her. What a sweet face it is? What high bred 
 calm ! And then again come the happy lovers, two and 
 two ; and as they pass before the high altars, the long 
 
 18 
 
274 LOVE, MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE. 
 
 white veils of the brides sweep along the gay aisles of 
 the churches, their happiness brightens up the faces look- 
 ing on. Then, perhaps, some blooming young girl 
 comes up, bringing a crutch and a bronchial wheeze, and 
 it now and then happens that a youth appears, leading a 
 wig of false plaits, a set of false teeth and half a cen- 
 tury of bones to the altar. The disparity is not so great 
 as you might imagine. There may be a heart still beating 
 beneath all these adjustments, while the bridegroom, for 
 all his good looks, has not a single drop of warm blood 
 in his body. So, bad, good and indifferent, they pass 
 their way. Sometimes it is Peace and Goodwill who go 
 by, hand in hand. What does it matter if Goodwill's 
 beard is grizzled, and Peace has crow's feet round about 
 her loving eyes? Sometimes it is Pride and Vainglory 
 that go sweeping past down the long church out into the 
 churchyard beyond. They are a fine couple as they sail 
 along, and they look to see their reflection in the eyes of 
 the by-standers. Sometimes — and this is a very strange 
 phenomenon — it is only the past of one of the contract- 
 ing parties that is united to the present of the other. 
 They find it out too late. 
 
 We believe that the number of "unhappy marriages" 
 is vastly overrated by nearly everybody. There is so 
 much talk on the subject that it is easy to forget that for 
 every instance of complaint there are thousands of be- 
 neficent and prosperous unions of which the world never 
 hears. It is natural that wrong and outrage should de- 
 mand attention, but men and women whose married life 
 is full of good and helpfulness, do not often feel an im- 
 pulse to go up and down the world defending the system 
 under which they live. Then again we have long been 
 convinced that the fundamental thought or idea of most 
 of these reformers is an error, and a most mischievous 
 one. What is an " unhappy marriage?" What is a happy 
 one? Most people who complain of the present system 
 of marriage show clearly that they think that the chief 
 evils and happiness in the lives of men and women who 
 are u not happily married" result from marriage itself, or 
 from what is false and bad in it. Their criticisms depend 
 
LOVE, MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE. 275 
 
 chiefly upon the notion that a proper union, a u happy 
 marriage," would ensure a happy and prosperous life for 
 nearly everybody. We think that most people are as 
 "happy in marriage" as they deserve to be — that they 
 have about as much of good in it as they are capable of 
 enjoying. Not everybody, of course, but we think this 
 is true of the great majority of all the married people 
 around us. It is absurd to think that so much misery 
 and wrong, so much selfishness and cruelty, so much that 
 is low, animal and unlovely in the lives of men and wo- 
 men results from their being u mismated." In most cases 
 there is no possible mating that could make the joint life 
 much better. These men and women are undeveloped, 
 selfish, exacting. They have undisciplined tempers, and 
 they are accustomed to think of "happiness" for them- 
 selves as the chief end of marriage. No magic of "mat- 
 ing " would make the life of such people very high or 
 perfect. In fact, as things now are, marriage is the 
 source and nurse of many of the best qualities in the 
 lives of most men and women. We think there is noth- 
 ing plainer than the fact that the average tendency and 
 effect of marriage is beneficial and elevating. Looking 
 at men and women as they are, we think it wonderful 
 that marriage does so much for them, and has such power 
 to lift up their lives to light and beauty. Our reformers 
 trust too much to specific treatment for particular evils. 
 The real problem is far deeper and more difficult. There 
 are no short roads to happiness, or to any kind of heaven 
 on earth, or anywhere else. The men and women who 
 marry must somehow acquire thoughtfulness, self-control, 
 consideration for others, patience, and the other qualities 
 without which life is unendurable in any relation we 
 know of; and we know of nothing so well adapted to 
 accomplish this work of education as marriage itself. It 
 is not by any direct effort to improve marriage that any 
 real reform is to be brought about, but by the gradual 
 instruction and advancement of the people themselves 
 in knowledge and virtue, and in all that makes up excel- 
 lence of character. We believe that marriage and par- 
 entage are indispensable methods of education for the 
 
276 LOVE, MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE. 
 
 race. Of course we are in favor of any change of the 
 laws which define the property rights of married people 
 which may in any case be required by justice and right, 
 and of any measures that may be needed to remove ob- 
 structions which hinder the free and natural working of 
 the system of marriage ; but we cannot make the social 
 relations of men and women much better, except by the 
 elevation of the men and women themselves. 
 
 There was a period in Grecian civilization when there 
 was a fall from the high esteem in which marriage was at 
 first held. It came to be looked upon as an evil, or at 
 best a convenience. Then population fell off, virtue be- 
 came but a name, and there was nearly unlimited free- 
 dom of divorce. So there was a period in Roman civili- 
 zation when there was a lowering of the lofty conceptions 
 of the purity and sacredness of the marriage state. To- 
 wards the end of the Republic there was almost absolute 
 freedom of divorce, and with the intention of marrying 
 again. Virtue, of course, was at a very low ebb. Na- 
 tive population decreased, as in Greece. Adultery also 
 largely prevailed, contrary to what would at first thought 
 be experienced from the ease with which divorces could 
 be decreed, but in keeping with what seems to be the 
 experience of this country now, notwithstanding the free- 
 dom of divorce prevailing. Seneca says — and he was 
 not at all noted for morality — that in his time "no 
 woman was ashamed of divorce " — a fearful thing to say, 
 but only what we are apparently rapidly coming to in 
 these days. 
 
 Be it understood that we are opposed to the breaking 
 of the marriage covenant, save for reasons given in the 
 Bible. This does not say that there are not unhappy 
 marriages, where men and women live together because 
 they are married, and not so much because they love to 
 do so. There are heart-burnings growing out of such 
 relations; but is not community in a more healthy con- 
 dition with the marriage rights respected, than otherwise. 
 While government seeks the good of individuals, she 
 must do so by respecting principles upon which the 
 greatest good will accrue to the masses. And whatever 
 
j a so 
 3 _ 
 
 "0 o 
 
 J o 3 
 
 3 «° 
 
 rp 3 
 
 5 o 
 o 
 
 3 
 [ 3 2. 
 
 is 
 
 3*3- 
 
 fg 
 
 am con 
 a™ £> s» H 
 
 p t» <fc fls ^ 
 
 rn ° 
 
 e s"fS 
 
 El™ £-80 j 
 
 3*ps P^£ ^ 
 
 — xgo 
 
 ssa 
 
 O 3 
 
 3 00 
 
 _ cr 
 
 » 2 
 o a 
 
 r+ 
 
 » c 
 
 Si" 3 
 
 2.0 
 
 O to 
 3 X 
 
 3« 
 
 03 3'ff> 3 ,. 
 to' 3 3 ° W 
 
 H Sao W 
 » 5 3 <<j y 
 
 B-gH§ 
 
 3 C3 2 2 
 
 CO 
 CO 
 
 d 
 
 ^s 
 
 CD Qj 
 
 rt'O 
 
 P 58 
 — o 
 
 p 3 
 >o 
 
 ST. CO 
 
 2 r* 
 
 3 O 
 
 * 5f 
 
 tr ™ 
 p n 
 
 p, Q-> 
 co ►-. 
 
 r+ CO 
 SB p 
 
 o a 
 3 p 
 
 CO cj- 
 
 EL 
 ST 
 
 3 p 
 
 O Q 
 
 
 f>t0 
 i-t CD 
 
 oft. 
 
 ^£ 
 CO QTQ 
 
 2 
 O* 
 
 WOP 
 
 go* 
 
 CO 
 
 s 
 
 z 
 
 .3 S 
 
 o 
 
 3 
 
 cr ~ 
 o 3 
 d a> 
 
 ft^ 
 
 
 crco 
 o 5" 
 < o 
 
 a> cr 
 ^^ 
 
 o a- 
 o «. 
 5_5 
 
 p cr 
 
 CO » 
 
 1,5 3 
 
 O M CO ^g p 
 
 ^ft^&;£ M 
 I g.1 r&S 
 
 crog2.» 
 % p cr^ WJ2. 
 
 • CO __ o, CO & 
 
 HJ^ 
 
 "•^3 ^p 
 ^ft 3 ^ft 
 _ (0 *° X'P 
 
 fffi-SS |13. 
 ftg ^ s-p - 
 
 crq 
 
 35_-P o 3 
 
 p o2 ft^ 
 o^ftg'S 
 
 » * H. ffl (0 
 
 H» hrj P CO 
 
 s ^Stft 
 
 p a cr 
 
 2 S? 
 
 3 CO 
 
 p O 
 
 o o 
 
 ^ ft 
 a. 3 
 
 ftS-<j 
 
 3 13 Co 
 
 m ^sb" 
 
 X-P CD 
 
 co e+ co 
 
 Sg-g 
 *B- & 
 
 |aa 
 
 Pea 
 
 ® sr 
 
 CO O 
 
 B? 
 
 o o 
 
 13* H-. 
 
 3 s 
 
 o 
 
 sr 
 if 
 
 X CO 
 
 |3 
 
 E-R 
 
 O CD 
 
 *1 " 
 
 p cr 
 fto 
 
 & p 
 
 p. o 
 
 5'p 
 
 era- 
 § S. 
 33 
 Fg- 
 
 fD 
 
 So 
 
 o> -n 
 
 ar~f 
 
 &.« n 
 
 >-* 8 
 
 8 5 a: 
 
 3 a. 3 
 
 s ^3 
 
 s: ft s. 
 
 ^^-^ 
 
 3 I 
 
 5-i 
 
 3 3 
 
 o 3 
 
 ft 
 
 •» s 
 
 o 
 < 
 
 z 
 a 
 
 X 
 
 r 
 ^o 
 ■n 
 
 G 
 
 r 
 
 in 
 
 C 
 
 o 
 o 
 
 CO 
 
 H 
 O 
 
 CO 
 
 ¥ 
 
MOVING AND SHIPPING PROPOSAL 
 
 Federal Storage Company 
 
 1707 FLORIDA AVENUE 
 WASHINGTON, D. C. 
 
 Na me Mr • bright p a tman 
 
 3218 19th Street n\ 
 
 Address 
 City 
 
 Washington D C 
 
 Aoril IS 
 
 We propose to furnish in a first-class manner services described below, subject to the following conditions: 
 
 FKDERAL STORAGE COMPANY (Hereinafter called the Company) when transporting acts as a private carrier only, reserving the right to refuse any 
 order for transportation, and in no event is a common carrier. 
 
 The Company shall be responsible for exercise of ordinary diligence and care; but not responsible for ordinary wear and tear in handling, nor for fragile articles 
 injured or broken unless packed by its employees, and unpacked by them at time of delivery: 
 
 The Company will not be liable for loss or delay caused by labor troubles, riots, the elements and other causes beyond the control of the Company. 
 
 Intoxicating liquors will not be handled unless fully covered by proper Government permits. 
 
 The value of any one package and contents declared not to exceed $50.00; and of any one load not to exceed $2,000; upon which declared or agreed value the 
 rates are based. The owner is given opportunity in acceptance below, to declare a higher valuation, without limitation, in case of loss or damage which would make 
 the Company liable and to pay the higher rates based thereon. The rate for excess valuation is $ 
 
 No person is authorized to make any other agreement or condition on behalf of the Company. 
 
 TERMS: BILLS FOR MOVING PAYABLE IN CASH-DRIVER WILL COLLECT 
 
 On goods to be shipped the company is authorized to collect all charges by sight draft attached to Order Bill of Lading through correspondents . 
 
 RATES 
 
 CARTAGE $ 
 
 PIAN 
 PACKING 
 
 'IANO 
 
 material at fixed "'"pace's """accorai'hg'''t"6"''c"6's""t 
 
 ch packer used there will' ' be "a" cliarg e of 
 
 1. ' 
 
 DELIVERY TO FREIGHT STATION OF ... $ 
 
 THE FOLLOWING ENCLOSURES ARE^ FEDERAL) STORAGE COM PAN Y 
 
 PART OF THIS PROPOSAL 
 
 Federal Storage Company city 
 
 Washington, D. C. 
 
 Gentlemen: 1 accept your proposal and the rates and conditions enumerated above. 
 
 Please call to pack on 193 and 
 
 I declare excess valuations as follows: 
 
 Secure Transit Insurance for me in the sum of $■■ 
 
 (SIGN HERE) 
 
 SHIPPING ORDER AND DECLARATION OF VALUE (To be used cr.ly when goods are to be shipped by Freight cr Express) 
 
 SHIP TO (NAME). 
 
 t ^ND DECLARATION OF VALUE 
 
 Mr. v, right Patraan 
 
 2S05 OHm B&eet, i?exar^i^a"'»''"1 t «2»'s 
 
 NUMBER STREET CITY STAT 
 
 ft« , valued a, » j£0*.gO 
 
 Express Companies require the value to be declared on all Shipments 
 
 BY EXPRESS {S3S-) 
 BY RAILROAD -J ™ Carload} J Prepaid | at 
 
 where value does not exceed 
 
 You are authorized to use your own discretion in routing s 
 gl^atjo« { erders are £5£Jgp£ e *?«tj ou are authorized to supply such 
 
 send bW<MM& to!??^ ignee 
 
 See Expanation of Freight Rates on Back 
 lent, unless otherwise specifically instructed. If shipping orders or 
 
 (SIGN HERE) 
 
HELPFUL SUGGESTIONS 
 
 MOVING 
 
 The ultimate satisfaction from any moving depends largely upon the proper preparation of 
 articles before they are moved. We will be glad to make arrangements for any of the packing 
 listed below which has not already been provided for. 
 
 China, glassware, bric-a-brac, and similar fragile articles should be well protected 
 
 with excelsior and packed in barrels. 
 Glass shelves or glass tops should be packed in boxes or crates. 
 Kitchen utensils, bathroom fixtures and other small odds and ends, should be 
 
 packed in barrels, boxes, etc. 
 Lamp shades (glass or silk) and fragile lamp bases should be boxed. 
 Clocks (small) and works of hall-clocks should be packed in strong boxes. 
 Books should be removed from cases, wrapped in paper and packed in wooden 
 
 boxes strong enough to hold weight of books. 
 Pictures and mirrors, especially gilt and filagree frames, should be well packed 
 
 in good strong boxes. 
 Bedding, linens, clothing, etc., should be packed in boxes, chests, trunks, etc. 
 Articles should not be packed above the top of containers. 
 In packing bm-eaus, chiffoniers or other pieces of furniture, care should be taken 
 
 not to overload them. 
 
 SHIPPING 
 
 The need for proper packing of goods to be shipped is well stated in a bulletin 
 issued by the American Railway Association which reads in part as follows: ■ 
 
 "IF YOU INTEND TO SHIP YOUR HOUSEHOLD GOODS BY FREIGHT OR 
 EXPRESS: Please remember that safe transportation depends almost wholly upon how 
 well the goods are packed. Packing by expert packers regularly engaged in shipping 
 household goods is the only real safeguard against damage. Certain furniture must be 
 skillfully padded and hung in the crate just right to avoid unsightly marring and 
 damage. 
 
 We ask that you carefully consider this advice, because it is based upon experiences 
 * gained in transporting a great many shipments of household effects without damage 
 when packed by a firm that understands the business. 
 
 American Railway Association." 
 
 To avoid misunderstanding all instructions should be gtven in writing. 
 
 FREIGHT RATES 
 
 Railroad rates vary according to valuation, This valuation must be 
 stated at time of shipment in order to apply the proper rate. If you declare 
 that, the value of your furniture does not exceed ten cents per pound, then 
 the lowest freight rates apply. If higher valuation is declared then higher 
 rates apply according to declared value. 
 
 The Railroad quotes us the following rates 
 
 LESS FULL 
 
 CARLOAD CARLOAD 
 If the value of each article does not exceed ten (10) 
 
 cents pound, the rate per hundred pounds is 
 
 If the value of each article exceeds ten (10) cents per 
 
 pound, and does not exceed twenty (20) cents per 
 
 pound, the rate per hundred pounds is 
 
 I the value of each article exceeds twenty (20) cents 
 
 per pound, but does not exceed fifty (50) cents per 
 
 pound, the rate per hundred pounds is 
 
 If the value of each article exceeds fifty (50,1 cents per 
 
 pound, but does not exceed two dollars ($2.00) per 
 
 pound, the rate per hundred pounds is 
 
 I the value of each article exceeds two dollars ($2.00) 
 
 per pound but does not exceed five dollars (5.00) per 
 
 pound, the rate per hundred pounds is 
 
 Carload Minimum weight is 
 
 The releasing of your goods to a specific valuation per pound means 
 that in case goods are lost or damaged in transit the amount of recovery 
 will be limited to the declared valuation. Railroads will not accept goods 
 of a higher value than $5.00 per pound. 
 
Si <^" 
 
 •2.3" 
 
 — p 
 
 p 
 
 3.o 3 3" 
 |3£3 
 sl&SB 
 
 CD O CLnrn 
 rt- W 
 
 . h TO 
 
 ^ 2 o g 
 
 a|J- 
 
 ' o o w 
 3 CL^J 
 ' - <*> 
 
 5' 2. 
 £d ..3> 
 
 as £T rt 
 
 F^ o 
 
 2p 
 
 o 
 p 
 en 
 
 3 
 en 
 
 rt- 
 
 < 
 P 
 
 3 d 
 
 P 
 
 73 
 
 rt- 
 
 
 rr 
 
 
 3 
 
 <x> 
 
 o 
 
 3 
 
 
 p 
 
 
 3 
 
 H 
 
 •3 
 
 o 
 
 re 
 
 c+ 
 
 3 
 3 
 
 l-J 
 
 03 
 
 rt- 
 
 "3 
 
 o 
 
 O 
 
 O 
 
 
 3 
 3 
 
 ts 
 
 •-s 
 
 O, 
 
 rt 
 
 CD 
 
 
 Qrq 
 
 rs 
 
 o 
 
 3 
 
 o 
 
 <: 
 
 a> 
 
 o 
 
 rD 
 
 P 
 
 Pu,»3 
 
 3 
 
 ■dfl •©■© I« 
 
 ,? £,0 9 *-© o B9 ^ 
 
 •d»S 
 
 §^» s 9 « 3 ft S3*5T® 
 a.® < ft-e-g e-1 <■ o-a-i- «g 
 
 » 3 B^* * B," © B * * £.5 BB^ 
 tt3 b'StST^TS B&BD S 5 S 
 
 * *£.* a S.s* O-l b-SL 8 '© 
 
 2 A ® » • 
 
 e-a-d 
 
 3 * 2*1 b §S 8-5.1 a *2 
 
 3 
 3- 
 
 ^B-CB » B-0 S* g 
 
 agfilial.'iia* 
 
 H*»3-B* 
 
 ft-ft-* |L) 
 
 a 0-2 * 5 cu 
 
 P-a 3 e 
 
 o2°^2o»»ort-2"« 
 e Eftft-B © P-e ft-® s £ £-» „ 
 
 * 0.3 
 
 CD © 
 
 
 ft.§i»0-S 
 
 a. 9" as a. £* S-? *- 
 
 £.?».? j « erg 1 
 
 ,-vft 
 
 c^3 
 
 ©3 
 
 95": B ft 
 
 **■ _ • rt- Jr 
 
 ssn 
 
 ft 2 * 
 
 ft ® : 
 B ? : 
 
 a 
 
 ft 
 
 "8 B 
 
 CO <«1 CO 
 
 C in 
 > 
 
 n 
 
 ► 
 3 
 
 H 
 
 i-j <rt- c+ CO 
 
 
 P 3"3rt 
 
 
 
 (Tf ft) P P 
 
 
 
 Railrc 
 ted at 
 t the v 
 
 lowes 
 es app 
 
 
 
 
 
 «< r+ p 2~. p 
 
 
 
 p £>3~3 ^ 
 
 
 
 « rt ** 1 
 
 
 
 |§s.s.| 
 
 
 
 CL,-<< CO CO 
 
 
 
 var 
 
 liipm 
 
 our f 
 
 rate 
 
 ing t 
 
 
 
 Offl C (t^ 
 
 
 
 accor 
 nt in c 
 rnitur 
 
 apply 
 declar 
 
 ^n 
 
 
 P0 
 
 
 pi 
 
 
 ft) * ro i-s ci- 
 
 
 2. 
 
 
 p 
 a- 
 
 ing to vah 
 
 der to appl 
 
 does not e 
 
 If higher 
 
 d value. 
 
 O 
 X 
 H 
 
 3 
 O 
 
 P ft) £-£- 
 5" 2 n> ° 
 
 > 
 
 0) 
 
 |*dP 
 
 PI 
 
 CO 
 
 ET.e*- 1 
 ® O 
 
 CA) 
 
 3 
 
 3 3^3 H 
 
 
 CO 
 
 — o i-s B. 
 
 
 rt- 
 
 3- 
 
 
 s va 
 rate 
 
 ents 
 sdec' 
 
 
 O 
 
 P ^3 c 
 ^ <*> as 
 
 
 <+V, «<: 2 
 
 ft) 3 r 
 
 >— cx a. 3 
 TO ^2-S- 
 
 Hj 3 (B rt 
 
 -— - 
 
LOVE, MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE. 277 
 
 may be the theory of the "moralsuasionists," legal pro- 
 hibition is the bulwark of a nation's safety. Whatever 
 the future of nations may be — we leave that to be 
 divined. But there is no nation so highly cultivated to- 
 day, as not to need the most rigid restraints of law. And 
 none, perhaps, should be more rigid than that protecting 
 home, life and happiness. The want of congeniality is 
 not the cause of home broils and the villainous mother 
 of divorces. Foreign, poisonous elements are thrown 
 into those hearts and homes. It may be rum, it may be 
 indolence, infidelity or lust. Be the invader who he may, 
 come he on whatsoever pretext, place at the gate of each 
 heart and home the statute of the State. We have no 
 sympathy with a looseness of legislation. Though the 
 gospel is gentleness and sweetness, it makes filth and 
 devils get up and go. If gentle zephyrs do not free the 
 air of unwholesome matter, He sends his lightnings 
 along that way — it must be purified. Punish crime until 
 the criminal feels that it is very unsafe to do wickedly. 
 The forest does not grow from the top downward, but 
 from numerous little seeds upwards. Great reforms do 
 not come from our halls of legislation, but from little 
 seeds germinating in society. These germs must be pro- 
 tected. The State takes care of the fishes of her lakes 
 and rivers in their seasons, and she punishes the violator 
 of the homes of her birds. Let her protect the nestling 
 virtue of her homes. Too high a premium cannot be 
 placed upon the sanctity of her families. Let it be felt 
 whoever or whatever intrudes, does so under penalty. 
 Let the wife feel that she has a husband, and the law will 
 see that he is true, and sober, and industrious. Let the 
 husband feel that he has a wife, home, and heaven on 
 earth, and that the State has an interest in keeping it so. 
 Honor the marriage rite, and punish the invader of its 
 purity. 
 
 It is a glorious sight to see two old people, who have 
 weathered the storms and basked in the sunshine of life 
 together, go hand in hand, loving and thoughtfully, 
 together down the gentle declivity of time, with no 
 anger, nor jealousy, nor hatred, garnered up against each 
 
CUSTOMERS COPY 
 
 -#' 
 
 Telephone: Adam* 6304 
 
 Federal Storage Company 
 
 1707 FLORIDA AVENUE 
 
 N? 1040 
 
 Foreman 
 Helpers 
 
 D 
 
 Order Rec'd April 13, 1931. 
 ABB 
 
 Name --Mr* Wright batman 
 Address .3218 19th Street .NW 
 
 Wants l radio 
 
 Flc 
 
 Elevator 
 Steps 
 
 To warehouse & packed for shipment by expres s collect.. Val . J.50 , 
 
 Floor 
 
 Elevator 
 
 1 Steps 
 
 When April 13 th as S^OOIl as Can Collect Warehouse Receipts 
 Lot Room Section. Floor 
 
 Cartage Loads @ $ per 500 cu. ft. loads 
 
 
 
 
 Cartage - Piano 
 
 
 
 
 Packing - Labor 
 
 
 
 
 Packing - Material 
 
 
 
 
 Storage 
 
 
 
 
 Warehouse Labor 
 
 
 
 
 Rug Cleaning 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 TERMS: Cash (before delivery) Pay Foreman 
 
 
 
 
 SPECIAL INSTRUCTIONS 
 
 call Natl. 5180 Ext. 584 & let 
 know charges & he will stop by 
 to pay bill & g o t r c c o iat* — 
 
 MOVING 
 
 PACKING 
 
 SHIPPING 
 
 STORING 
 
 THIS ORDER IS SUBJECT TO CONDITIONS PRINTED ON BACK HEREOF 
 
CONDITIONS UPON WHICH ORDERS ARE ACCEPTED AND EXECUTED 
 
 The FEDERAL STORAGE COMPANY (Hereinafter called the Company) 
 when transporting acts as a private carrier only, reserving the right to refuse any order for 
 transportation, and in no event is a common carrier. 
 
 The Company shall be responsible for exercise of ordinary diligence and care; but not respons- 
 ible for ordinary wear and tear in handling, nor for fragile articles injured or broken unless 
 packed by its employees, and unpacked by them at time of delivery. 
 
 The Company will not be liable for loss or delay caused by labor troubles, riots, the elements 
 and other causes beyond the control of the Company. 
 
 Intoxicating liquors will not be handled unless fully covered by proper Government permits. 
 
 The owner of the goods declares that the value, in case of loss or damage, for each or any 
 piece or package and contents thereof, does not exceed $50.00, nor does the aggregate value 
 of all pieces or packages and their contents contained in eaeh or any van, exceed the sum of 
 $2,000.00, upon which declaration this Company accepts this order, and accords a lower rate to 
 the owner, by reason of which this Company is not responsible for loss, injury or damage for any 
 cause which would make this Company liable beyond the specific valuation, unless the owner 
 avails of the opinion hereby given of paying a higher rate, without limitation as to value, in case 
 of loss or damage for any cause which would make the Company liable. 
 
 Our responsibility ceases when it is impossible for us, on account of condition of road, or 
 obstruction on side of road or over road, when off of State highways, to make delivery to point 
 specified. 
 
 Owners will be given a reasonable time to remove goods from Vans. 
 
 We assume no liability when delivery orders are incomplete, omissions being supplied by us 
 in the exercise of our best judgment and discretion. 
 
 Goods delivered at owner's risk at places where receipts are customarily refused, or where 
 no authorized person is present to receipt for same. 
 
 Our responsibility positively ceases when shipments are delivered to transportation companies 
 in good crder, and so receipted for 
 
 Pianos and other articles too large for stairways, when taken through windows will be sub- 
 ject to an extra charge. 
 
 Transportation rates quoted by us are frequently obtained by phone, and are, therefore, 
 furnished our customers without guaranteeing their accuracy. 
 
 We will not be responsible for the execution of verbal instructions given our employees un- 
 less confirmed in writing. 
 
 No person is authorized to make any other agreement or condition on behalf of the Company. 
 
 The ownei or representative hereby agrees to the conditions herein stated, by the retention 
 of this memorandum. 
 
 FEDERAL STORAGE COMPANY 
 
278 WHOM DO GREAT MEN MARRY? 
 
 other, and looking with hope and joy to the everlasting 
 youth of Heaven, where they two shall be one forever. 
 That is a true marriage, for it is a marriage of spirit with 
 spirit. Their love is woven into a woof of gold, that 
 neither time, nor death, nor eternity can sever. 
 
 WHOM DO GREAT MEN MARRY ? 
 
 Women of course. But they show the same great di- 
 versity of taste that is seen in the lower rank, and upon 
 the whole make worse mistakes. They, however, show 
 the same sense in choosing wives that they show in 
 managing other people's affairs, whether it be good or 
 bad. Robert Burns married a farm girl with whom he 
 fell in love while they worked together in the plow-field. 
 He, too, was irregular in his life, and committed the most 
 serious mistakes in conducting his domestic affairs. Mil- 
 ton married the daughter of a country squire, but lived 
 with her only a short time. He was austere, exacting, 
 a literary recluse ; while she was a rosy, romping lass that 
 could not endure the restraint imposed upon her ; so they 
 separated. Subsequently, however, she returned, and 
 they lived tolerably happy. Queen Yictoria and Prince 
 Albert were cousins, and about the only example in the 
 long line of English monarchs wherein the martial vows 
 were sacredly observed and sincere affection existed. 
 Shakspeare loved and wedded a farmer's daughter. She 
 proved faithful to her vows, but we could hardly say the 
 same of the great bard himself. Like most of the great 
 poets, he showed too little discrimination in bestowing 
 his affections on the other sex. Byron married Miss 
 Millbank to get money to pay his debts. It turned out 
 a bad shift. Benjamin Franklin married the girl who 
 stood in her father's door and laughed at him as he wan- 
 dered through the streets of Philadelphia with a roll of 
 bread under his arm and his pocket filled with dirty 
 clothes. She had occasion to be happy when she found 
 herself the wife of such a good and great man. Wash- 
 
A HINT TO STERN PARENTS. 279 
 
 ington married a widow with two children. It is enough 
 to say of her that she was worthy of him, and that they 
 lived, as married folks should live, in perfect harmony. 
 John Adams married the daughter of a Presbyterian 
 clergyman. Her father objected on account of John's 
 being a lawyer ; he had a bad opinion of the morals of 
 his profession. Thomas Jefferson married Mrs. Martha 
 Skelton, a childless widow, but she brought him a large 
 fortune in real estate. After the ceremony she mounted 
 the horse behind him and they rode home together. It 
 was late in the evening and they found the fire out. But 
 the great statesman hurried about and rebuilt it, while 
 she seized the broom and soon put things in order. It is 
 needless to say that they were happy, though Jefferson 
 died a poor man, on account of his extreme liberality and 
 hospitality. John Howard, the great philanthropist, 
 married his nurse. She was altogether beneath him in 
 social life, and intellectual capacity, and, besides this, 
 she was fifty- two years old, while he was but twenty-five. 
 He would not take "no" for answer; and they were mar- 
 ried, and lived happily together until her death, which 
 occurred about two years afterwards. Peter the Great, 
 of Russia, married a peasant girl. She made an excellent 
 wife and sage empress. Humboldt married a poor girl 
 because he loved her. Of course they were happy. It 
 is not generally known that Andrew Jackson married a 
 lady whose husband was still living. She was an unedu- 
 cated, but amiable woman, and was most devotedly at- 
 tached to the old warrior and statesman. John C. Cal- 
 houn married his cousin, and their children fortunately 
 were neither diseased nor idiotic, but they do not evince 
 the talent of the great " State Rights" advocate. Edward 
 Lytton Bulwer, the great English statesman and novelist, 
 married a girl much his inferior in position, and got a 
 shrew for a wife. She is now insane. 
 
 A HINT TO STERN PARENTS. 
 
 It is a sore trial, says Charles Lamb, when a daughter 
 shall marry against her father's approbation. A little 
 
280 4 HINT TO STERN PARENTS. 
 
 hard-heartedness and aversion to a reconcilement, is 
 almost pardonable. After all, Will Dockwray's way is, 
 perhaps, the wisest. His best loved daughter made a 
 most imprudent match, in fact, eloped with the last man 
 in the world that her father would have wished her to 
 marry. All the world said that he would never speak 
 to her again. For months she durst not write to him, 
 much less come near him. But in a casual rencounter 
 he met her in the streets of Ware, that will long remem- 
 ber the mild virtues of William Dockwray, Esq. What 
 said the parent to his disobedient child, whose knees fal- 
 tered under her at the sight of him? Ha, Sukey, is it 
 you? with that benevolent aspect with which he paced 
 the streets of Ware, venerated as an angel, — " come and 
 dine with us on Sunday ; " then turning away, and again 
 turning back, as if he had forgotten something, he added, 
 — "and, Sukey, do you hear? bring your husband with 
 you." This was all the reproof she ever heard from him. 
 Need it be added that the match turned out better for 
 Susan than the world expected? 
 
 Pitt was an unfortunate statesman ; but he had a lofty 
 eloquence, capacious views, and a noble mind. Sir Wal- 
 ter Farquahar calling one day, the premier observed him 
 to be unusually ruffled. " What's the matter ? " exclaimed 
 the premier. "Why, to tell you the truth," replied Sir 
 Walter, "I am extremely angry with my daughter. She 
 has permitted herself to form an attachment for a young 
 gentleman by no means qualified in point of rank and for- 
 tune to be my son-in-law." "Now let me say one word in 
 the lady's behalf," returned the minister. " Is the young 
 man you mention of respectable family?" "He is." "Is 
 he respectable in himself?" "He is." "Has he the man- 
 ners and education of a gentleman ? " "He has," "Why 
 then, my dear Sir Walter, hesitate no longer. You are 
 well acquainted with the delusions of life. Let your 
 daughter follow her own inclinations, since they appear 
 to be virtuous. You have had more opportunities than 
 I have of knowing the value of affection, and ought to 
 respect it. Let the union take place and I will not be 
 unmindful that I had the honor of recommending it." 
 
AFFECTION. 281 
 
 The physician followed the direction of his patient ; the 
 lovers were united; and the patronage of the minister 
 testified his satisfaction. 
 
 He who gets a good husband for his daughter, hath 
 gained a son; but he who meets with a bad one, hath 
 lost a daughter. 
 
 To hasten a marriage, lock up the girl and show the 
 lover the door. 
 
 AFFECTION. 
 
 There is something inexpressibly beautiful in the mani- 
 festation of the affections which spring up and flow forth 
 from the better feelings of our nature — in those traits of 
 holy feeling which prompt a mother's love, in the con- 
 fiding spirit of the child toward its parents and choseii 
 playmates, and in the influence of that passion which 
 incites to harmonious union of soul with soul. There is 
 something holy in the trusting confidence of woman's 
 love, — something unfathomable in the depth and extent 
 of her influence in the world. The music of an angel's 
 song dwells in her gentle tones of affection, with a power 
 to win from wrong and sin — to incite the noblest cour- 
 age, and prompt the highest resolves. 
 
 Cherish then the spirit of kindly affection. Let the 
 love of childhood find a return, never repulsing the con- 
 fiding tenderness every child displays when surrounded 
 by kindly influences. Remember how much of the joy 
 of life flows from the sympathetic mingling of congenial 
 spirits, and seek to bind such to you closer and closer 
 with the golden links of affection's easy bondage. 
 
 You who declaim so bitterly against the evils of worldly 
 existence, and the wickedness of your brother men, 
 could you but discern the beauty and harmony which 
 now reigns around you unheeded, its power to make you 
 happy unemployed — or would you call forth from the 
 chambers of memory some treasured joy, or dream of 
 happiness known in other years, or rekindle some strong 
 emotion, which has given sunlight to your path, methinks 
 
282 AFFECTION. 
 
 you would often er thank Heaven for those blessings 
 shared and possessed, and cease to desire what your un- 
 thankfulness places above your deserts. 
 
 The heaven-born gift of prayer is yours. How sweet, 
 amid the cares and trials of life, to turn from the fickle- 
 ness of friends — the evils of poverty, or the pains of 
 sickness to that unchanging and steadfast Friend who 
 heedeth the cry of supplication, and noteth every occur- 
 rence — even u the sparrows fall." To him we can pour 
 out the sorrows which oppress our hearts, and receive 
 in return His sympathy, and the knowledge that he 
 careth for our welfare. Oh ! at such times we feel as 
 though angels were ascending and descending, bearing 
 unto God the burden of our suffering and our sorrow, 
 and bringing down from his blessed Home above, mes- 
 sages of joy and love, the strength and consolation of 
 our wearied soul. 
 
 In certain ages, and even to-day in certain places, men 
 have sought to divorce religion and affection — have en- 
 deavored to put the two far apart. They have acted 
 upon the mistaken theory that piety means asceticism — 
 that to grow in spiritual grace they must become dead 
 to everything tenderly and lovingly human — must hold 
 themselves separate from their kind and acknowledge no 
 brotherhood with their fellows. So they have become 
 hermits, and have lived the life of the recluse. But all 
 this is wrong. The best men of the Bible were live 
 men, — men who cherished sweet affections and hesitated 
 not to declare them. The most lion-hearted in their 
 dealings with sin were the most lamb-like in loving, — 
 tender and true. In the common things of the world, 
 so-called, those characters, are of most worth in which 
 there abounds fullness of affection — in which there throbs 
 a large, live heart. And so in Christian life, they serve 
 God best whose out-reaching sympathies compel wide 
 service for humanity, — who know all men in a common 
 brotherhood, and are moved by human needs to noble 
 doings. 
 
 Sometimes it happens that the husband or the wife 
 hesitates to urge his or her companion on to a Christian 
 
AFFECTION. 283 
 
 walk, fearing separation must come between. But how 
 can separation come, when love to God only increases 
 love to all His creatures? God is not jealous in this 
 matter. Is it a sign, because He took away your child, 
 that He hated the child? — that He was jealous of the love 
 your child drew forth? Not so. He only loved the little 
 one more than you loved it — loved it so well that He 
 would spare it all possibility of sin and pain. God's very 
 nature is love ; and what he implanted in the heart of 
 humanity He will not rebuke. 
 
 There are Christian homes wherein love seems re- 
 strained, in which there is little of manifest affection. Is 
 such a state of things in full accord with our Saviour's 
 Gospel? Did Christ restore Lazarus from the dead 
 simply as an exhibition of His miraculous power? We 
 think not. We prefer to believe the restoration was a 
 tribute to the rare love of those weeping sisters. Human 
 affection is a blessed influence in this religion of ours ; the 
 influence broadens and deepens in proportion as this affec- 
 tion is broad and deep, and unrestrained. Say you that 
 we must not worship what God has given us? Love is 
 not worship — it never need be. It is another thing in 
 character, in very essence. Love, indeed, is a Christian 
 duty, and so is worship— of a certain kind : in so far they 
 are kin. Unless we love we are not Christian. Unless 
 religion warms our hearts toward wife and child — toward 
 all human kind — it is scarcely to be trusted. 
 
 We sometimes meet with men who seem to think that 
 any indulgence in an affectionate feeling is weakness. 
 They will return from a journey and greet their families 
 with a distant dignity, and move among their children 
 with the cold and lofty splendor of an iceberg, sur- 
 rounded by its broken fragments. There is hardly a. 
 more unnatural sight on earth, than one of those families 
 without a heart. A father had better extinguish his boy's 
 eyes, than take away his heart. Who that has experi- 
 enced the joys of friendship, and values sympathy and 
 affection, would not rather lose all that is beautiful in 
 nature's scenery, than be robbed of the hidden treasure 
 of his heart? Who would not rather bury his wife than 
 
284 AFFECTION. 
 
 bury his love for her ? Who would not rather follow his 
 child to the grave, than entomb his parental affection? 
 Cherish, then, your heart's best affections. Indulge in the 
 warm and gushing emotions of filial, parental, and fra- 
 ternal love. Think it not a weakness. God is love. 
 Love God, love everybody, and everything that is lovely. 
 Teach your children to love ; to love the rose, the robin ; 
 to love their parents ; to love their God. Let it be the 
 studied object of their domestic culture to give them 
 warm hearts, ardent affections. Bind your whole family 
 together by these strong cords. You cannot make them 
 too strong. Religion is love; love to God; love toman. 
 
 " To love the little platoon we belong to in society is 
 the germ of all public affections." True, most true! 
 The innocent association of childhood, the kind mother 
 who taught us the first accents of prayer, and watched 
 with anxious face over our slumbers, the ground on which 
 our little feet first trod, the pew in which we first sat in 
 public worship, the school in which our first rudiments 
 were taught, the torn Virgil, the dog-eared Horace, the 
 friends and companions of our young days, the authors 
 who first told us the history of our country, the songs 
 that first made our hearts throb with noble and generous 
 emotions, the burying place of our fathers, the cradles of 
 our children, are surely the objects which nature tells us 
 to love. Philanthropy, like charity, must begin at home. 
 From this center our sympathies may extend in an ever 
 widening circle. 
 
 Affection is the Fire, confined and guarded, yet care- 
 fully cherished, — which gives its cheerful warmth to the 
 household. Through the darkness and gloom of Grief, 
 it sheds its rays of brightness and its influences of cheer 
 over the circle. Amid the intense rigors of Adversity, 
 it still may make the life within doors peaceful and genial. 
 It goes into the drawing-room, with its costly furnishings ; 
 into the library, with its ranged books and maps; into 
 the pleasant, familiar place of rest and converse ; and it 
 makes them all cheerful. It goes up into the nursery, 
 and folds the little ones in the influence of its power. It 
 makes all more glad to come home from the world, and 
 
AFFECTION. 28fr 
 
 u gather in groups round the family hearth. It is the 
 cheerer, enlightener, and comforter of life ; a serviceable 
 friend, as well as a brilliant and beautiful companion ; 
 and without it, the world would be desolate and cold 
 Passion is the same Fire, broken loose from restraint and 
 devastating life. The choicest powers are swept before 
 it. The finest ornaments, of culture and taste, are de- 
 spoiled in its hot grasp. The most delightful circles are 
 broken up and destroyed. The home of intelligence and 
 happiness becomes a blackened and charred heap. Who 
 then will say that God does not wisely, in giving the re- 
 straints of his Truth and his Law, the guardianships of 
 his Providence, the admonitions of Conscience, the warn- 
 ings ol Penalty, the example of his Son, to hold Affection 
 within its limits ? In guarding it — while he also enkindles 
 and cherishes it by the glow of his Word and the breath 
 of his Spirit — in guarding it so vigilantly, from this deso- 
 lating spread ? Take away these restraints, and the world 
 itself would be wrapped in the fury of universal Passion. 
 Let each man for himself hold it firmly in the control of 
 a God-guided Will. 
 
 A few days since, as I was carelessly passing through 
 the beautiful cemetery at Cleveland and reading the silent 
 memorials of the dead, my attention was arrested by a 
 monument representing a beautiful little child that had 
 fallen asleep while strewing flowers on the grave of its 
 mother. The affecting tale was depicted in the sculptured 
 marble too plainly to be mistaken. I inquired of the 
 sexton the reason of the design, who informed me that 
 the mother of that child died when she was but six years 
 old. Her father, at the earnest solicitation of his sister, 
 finally consented to part with his little daughter, and let 
 her go and live with her aunt, in Michigan. A sad fore- 
 boding told the widowed father it would be their last 
 parting — and as the little girl bid farewell, and stepped 
 on board the steamboat that was to carry her to her new 
 home, the tears coursing down the father's cheeks, told 
 of a sorrowful heart. The little child, as the boat left 
 the moorings, seeing the distress of her father, called to 
 him — "Don't cry, pa, I will come back soon." Scarcely 
 
286 HOW TO AVOID A BAD HUSBAND. 
 
 had she reached her new home, when she was seized with 
 a sickness so violent and rapid in its termination, that 
 the same mail that informed her father of her sickness, 
 also brought the sad intelligence of her death. Just as 
 the rattling throat gave warning notice of the death 
 struggle, the little sufferer looked up into the face of her 
 aunt, and evidently was anxious to say something which 
 her feelings rather than her weakness prevented. Her 
 aunt asked her what she wanted to say. u Oh, it's no 
 matter," said the little sufferer — "but when 1 am dead, 
 tell Pa to bury me by the side of mother. 1 ' This was the 
 last struggle of Nature — she was dead. u That child," 
 said the sexton, as he brushed a tear from his eye, " was 
 my little daughter." 
 
 When hearts are filled with holy affections, and home 
 is happy, then do the young dwell in a charmed circle, 
 which only the naturally depraved would seek to quiet, 
 and across which boundary temptations to error shine out 
 but feebly. 
 
 Every word spoken from affection, leaves an everlast 
 ing impression in the mind ; and every thought spoken 
 from affection, becomes a living creature ; and the same 
 also if not spoken, if so be that it be folly assented unto 
 by the mind. 
 
 Affection, like spring flowers, breaks through the most 
 frozen ground at last ; and the heart that seeks but for 
 another heart to make it happy, will never seek in vain. 
 
 Affection or love is what constitutes the life of every 
 person, for whatever the affection is, such is the whole 
 man. 
 
 HOW TO AYOID A BAD HUSBAND. 
 
 Never marry for wealth. A woman's life consisteth 
 not in the things she possesseth. Never marry a fop, or 
 one who struts about dandy -like, in his silk gloves and 
 ruffles, with silvered cane, and rings on his fingers. Be- 
 ware! — there is a trap. Never marry a niggard, a close- 
 fisted, mean, sordid wretch, who saves every penny, 01 
 
HOW TO AVOID A BAD HUSBAND. 28? 
 
 spends it grudgingly. Take care lest he stint you to 
 death. Never marry a stranger, or one whose character 
 is not known or tested. Some females jump right into 
 the fire, with their eyes wide open. Never marry a mope 
 or drone, one who drawls and struggles through life, one 
 foot after another, and lets things take their own course. 
 Never marry a man who treats his mother or sister un- 
 kindly or indifferently. Such treatment is a sure indica- 
 tion of a mean and wicked man. Never, on any account, 
 marry a gambler, a profane person, one who in the least 
 speaks lightly of God or religion. Such a man can 
 never make a gcod husband. Never marry a sloven, a 
 man who is negligent of his person or his dress, and is 
 filthy in his habits. The external appearance is an index 
 to the heart. Shun the rake as a snake, a viper, a very 
 demon. Finally never marry a man who is addicted to 
 the use of ardent spirits. Depend upon it, you are bet- 
 ter off alone, than you would be were you tied to a man 
 whose breath is polluted, and whose vitals are being 
 gnawed out by alcohol. 
 
 A lady says: — u Take my advice, ye young maidens 
 contemplating matrimony. Never marry a man who is 
 unkind to his mother, snubs his sisters, helps himself to 
 the best at the table, is afraid of work, or is unable to 
 support you." A shrewd old gentleman once said to 
 his daughter: u Be sure, my dear, that you never marry 
 a poor man ; but remember, the poorest man in the world 
 is one that has money, and nothing else." It is related 
 that an Athenian, who was hesitating whether to give his 
 daughter in marriage to a man of worth with a small for- 
 tune, or to a rich man who had no other recommenda- 
 tion, went to consult Themistocles on the subject. The 
 philosopher, in a spirit of true wisdom, said, "I would 
 bestow my daughter upon a man without money, rather 
 than upon money without a man." Marriages for money 
 seldom conduce to social comfort and happiness, and often 
 result in the utter destruction of domestic peace, in crimi- 
 nation, coldness, and estrangement. And yet the love 
 of money is seldom manifest in greater strength than in 
 the formation of those life-long alliances where the parties 
 
288 HOW TO AVOID A BAD HUSBAND. 
 
 bind themselves to "take each other for better or for 
 worse," and give their mutual pledge to stand by and aid 
 each other amid all the storms and privations and perils 
 of life. 
 
 Those parents who are chiefly anxious to have their 
 daughters marry a fortune, who value money more than 
 character, integrity, enterprise and correct habits, will, 
 in most cases, lament their shortsightedness, infatuation 
 and folly. There is happiness in a cottage where virtue, 
 intelligence and kindness dwell. A palace will not yield 
 it in the absence of these. It is not those families where 
 there is the greatest profusion of wealth, who are most 
 to be envied. In many a splendid mansion there are 
 aching hearts, disappointed hopes, corroding cares and 
 scalding tears. Let us not be misunderstood. We are 
 not depreciating or decrying wealth. It confers and se- 
 cures many advantages. It gives to its possessor influ- 
 ence, position and power. " Castaris paribus" as we 
 were taught in our school-boy days to say, other things 
 being equal, it. is desirable, highly beneficial, and emi- 
 nently comfortable. But it is not worth sacrificing do- 
 mestic peace to possess, it is not worth enduring the 
 strife of tongues, it is not worth the lifelong reproach, 
 "you married me for my money." Mothers who force 
 their daughters into interested marriages are worse than 
 the Ammonites who sacrificed their children to Moloch 
 — the latter undergoing a speedy death, the former suf- 
 fering years of torture, but too frequently leading to the 
 same result. 
 
 Now heed my words my precious girl ! 
 
 Affection is the richest pearl, 
 
 Nor lightly should be thrown away 
 
 On them who cannot love repay ; 
 
 Beware to whom thou shalt impart 
 
 That priceless jewel of the heart ! 
 
 Care not alone for form or face, 
 
 Or winning words, or witching grace, 
 
 But choose thou one whose honored name 
 
 Thou canst be proud to share and claim ; 
 
 Let it be one of cultured mind, 
 
 Of generous thoughts and feelings kind, 
 
 Who never sought nor e'er would seek 
 
 To wrong the helpless or the weak, 
 
 But ever would employ his best 
 
 To shield the friendless and opprest, 
 
 Who proudly treads temptation down 
 
BACHELORS. 289 
 
 Nor shrinks at fortune's darkest frown ; 
 Whose equal soul and mind sedate, 
 Can stand unmoved each change of fate; 
 Whose faith is Qrm, whose honor bright, 
 Whose love is an immortal light ! * 
 Such were the love, and such alone, 
 That can be worthy of thy own. 
 
 BACHELORS. 
 
 A bachelor, if he possesses a vivid fancy, can have 
 considerable enjoyment in speculating upon his future 
 fate. While he is majdng up his mind to what beauty 
 he shall offer his hand, he roams amid a harem of the im- 
 agination, a sort of mental polygamist. 
 
 The old bachelor looks critically on men's wives. He 
 takes an investigating interest in them. But he does so 
 in a critical and an analytical sort of way, which the hus- 
 bands did not practice in the first instance, and which 
 they would hardly like to have fully explained to them 
 now. But the bachelor is nothing if not critical. He 
 detects the tinge of red or gray, the inequalities of curve 
 or line, and sees clearly through all the mysteries and 
 artifices of the toilet. He has got an exhaustive sneer : 
 u The poor lellow has married for money," or, "The 
 poor. fellow has married for love." u By Jove, sir! Look 
 at that woman's waspish waist! Where can she have 
 crammed her viscera ?" — or such like personal observa- 
 tion. Whatever jewel a man may think he has found, 
 the connoisseur bachelor will hold that he can find a flaw 
 in it. Sometimes he will do this quite cynically. Other 
 men will do it just as often, though not cynically. The 
 object of such criticisms is very often some mere self- 
 glorification. If he — the bachelor — had married, no one 
 would have been able to criticise Caesar's wife. He would 
 not have missed fortune, as one friend has done, or beauty, 
 as a second, or family, as a third. His wife would have 
 far transcended the commonplace wives of average men. 
 She would be everything that a woman ought to be. In 
 short, the bachelor's wife is always perfection in the ab- 
 stract. 
 
 19 
 
290 BACHELORS. 
 
 If in that chair yonder — not the one your feet lie upon 
 —but the other beside you — closer yet — were seated a 
 sweet faced girl, with a pretty little foot lying out upon 
 the hearth, a bit of lace running round the throat, and 
 her hair parted to a charm over a forehead fair as any iu 
 your dreams, and if you could reach an arm through that 
 chair-back without fear of giving offence, and suffer your 
 fingers to play idly with those carls that escape down the 
 neck, and if you could clasp with your other hand those 
 little white taper fingers of hers which lie so temptingly 
 within reach, and talk so softly and low in the presence 
 of the blaze, while the hours slip without knowledge, and 
 the winter winds whistle uncared for — if, in short, you 
 were not a bachelor, but the husband of such a sweet 
 image — dream call it, rather — would it not be far pleas 
 anter than a cold, single night, sitting counting the 
 sticks, reckoning the length of the blaze and the 
 height of the falling snow. Surely imagination would 
 De stronger and purer if it could have the playful 
 fancies of dawning womanhood to delight it. All toil 
 would be torn from mind labor, if but another heart grew 
 into this present, soul quickening it, warming it, cheer- 
 ing it, bidding it ever God speed. Her face would make 
 a halo rich as a rainbow atop of all such noisome things 
 as we lonely souls call trouble. Her smile would illumi- 
 nate the blackest of crowded cares ; and darkness that 
 now seats you despondent in your solitary chair, for days 
 together, weaving bitter fancies, dreaming bitter dreams, 
 would grow light and thin and spread and float away 
 chased by that beloved smile. Your friend, poor fellow, 
 dies — never mind ; that gentle clasp of her fingers, as she 
 steals behind you telling you not to weep — is worth ten 
 friends. Your sister, sweet one, is dead — buried. The 
 worms are busy with all her fairness. How it makes you 
 think earth nothing but a spot to dig graves upon . It is 
 more. She says she will be a sister ; and the waving 
 curls, as she leans upon your shoulder, touch your cheek, 
 and your wet eye turns to meet those other eyes. God 
 has sent his angel surely ! Your mother — alas for it ! — 
 she's gone ! Is there any bitterness to a youth alone and 
 
BACHELORS. 291 
 
 homeless like this? You are not alone. She is there — 
 her tears softening yours, her grief killing yours, and you 
 live again to assuage that kind sorrow of hers. Then 
 these children, rosy, fair-haired ; no, they do not disturb 
 you with prattle now. They are yours. Toss away there 
 on the green sward. Never mind the hyacinths, the 
 snow-drops, the violets, if so be they are there. The 
 perfume of their beautiful lips is worth all the flowers of 
 the world. No need now to gather wild bouquets to 
 love and cherish. Flower, tree, gun, all are dead things. 
 Things lovelier hold your soul ; and she, the mother, 
 sweetest and fairest of all, watching, tending, caressing, 
 loving till your own heart grows pained with jealousy. 
 You have no need now of a cold lecture to teach thank- 
 fulness ; your heart is full of it — no need now, as once, 
 of bursting blossoms, of trees taking leaf and greenness, 
 to turn thought kindly and thankfully ; for ever beside 
 you there is bloom, and ever beside you there is fruit for 
 which eye, heart, and soul are full of unknown, unspoken, 
 because unspeakable, thank-offerings. 
 
 Bachelors may be known by their unpolished manners, 
 and generally lack buttons ; while married men are dis- 
 tinguished by their ease in ladies society, and domestic 
 looking phizzes. 
 
 A judicious wife is always chipping off from her hus- 
 band's moral nature little twigs that are growing in wrong 
 directions. She keeps him in shape by continual prun- 
 ing. If you say nothing silly, she will affectionately tell 
 you so. If you declare that you will do some absurd 
 thing, she will find means of preventing your doing it. 
 And by far the greatest part of all the common sense 
 there is in this world, belongs unquestionably to woman. 
 The wisest things a man commonly does, are those which 
 his wife counsels him to do. 
 
 Dr. Stark, of the Scottish Register office, has com- 
 pared the vital statistics of married and unmarried men, 
 and announces that the mean age of the married at death 
 is 60.2 years, while that of the bachelors is only 47.7 — 
 excluding those who die before twenty-five in both classes. 
 We don't wish to see every body against the poor bache- 
 
292 BACHELORS. 
 
 lors, but this point seems to demand the attention of life 
 insurance companies — if, indeed, bachelors ever imagine 
 their lives worth enough to any body to deserve insur- 
 ing. We did not know that to the command " increase 
 and multiply" was tacitly attached the promise " that thy 
 days may be long in the land," etc; but it seems, so far 
 that if bachelors wish to recover an average of twelve 
 and a-half years of life, or such part thereof as may not 
 be already irretrievably forfeited, they should make haste 
 to be married. Celibacy appears to be one of Nature's 
 capital offenses. 
 
 Once for all, there is no misery so distressful as the 
 desperate agony of trying to keep young when one can't. 
 I know an old bachelor who has attempted it. His affec- 
 tation of youth, like all affectations, is a melancholy fail- 
 ure. He is a rapid young man of fifty. He plies inno- 
 cent young ladies with the pretty compliments and soft 
 nothings in vogue when he was a spooney youth of 
 twenty. The fashion of talking to young ladies has 
 changed within thirty years, you know, and this aged 
 boy's soft nothings seem more out of date than a two- 
 year-old bonnet. They make you think, somehow, of 
 that time-honored frog-story, wherein is set forth the dis- 
 covery of galvanic electricity. . When you see his old- 
 fashioned young antics — his galvanic gallantry, so to 
 speak, and hear the speeches he makes to girls in their 
 teens, when he ought to be talking to them like a father^ 
 you involuntarily call him an old idiot, and long to re- 
 mind him of that quaint rebuke of grand old John : — 
 u Thou talkest like one upon whose head the shell is to 
 this very day." That is how he seems. He is old enough 
 to have been almost full-fledged before you were born, 
 and here he is trying to make believe that he is still in 
 the days of his gosling-green, with the shell sticking on 
 his head to this day ! It is a melancholy absurdity. One 
 can't be young unless one is young. Only once is it given 
 to us to be untried and soft, and gushing and superlative, 
 and when the time comes for it all to go, no sort of effort 
 can hold back the fleeting days. 
 
 u I wish that I had married thirty years ago, solilo- 
 
FASHION. 293 
 
 quised an old bachelor. Oh! I wish a wife and half a 
 score of children would start up around me, and bring 
 along with them all that affection which we should have 
 had for each other by being early acquainted. But as it 
 is, in my present state there is not a person in the world 
 I care a straw for ; and the world is pretty even with me, 
 for I don't believe there is a person in it who cares a straw 
 for me." A bachelor editor says: " We never cared a 
 farthing about getting married until we attended an old 
 bachelor's funeral. God grant that our latter end may 
 not be like his." 
 
 A lady had been teaching the summer school in a cer- 
 tain town, and a young sprig of the law paid her some 
 attention, so much so that he was joked about her. He 
 replied that he "should look higher for a wife." It came 
 to the lady's ears, and she meditated a little bit of re- 
 venge. An opportunity soon offered. They were at a 
 party together, and to redeem her forfeit she was to make 
 his epitaph. She gave the following : 
 
 " Here lies a man who looked so high, 
 He passed all common damsels by, 
 And they who looked as high as he 
 Declared his bride they would not be ; 
 So 'twixt them both he died a bach, 
 And now has gone to the old scratch." 
 
 FASHION. 
 
 What shall we wear? is a question whose solution has 
 always commanded a large share of the attention of 
 mankind. In no nation is the dress and adornment 
 of the person considered an unimportant matter, and 
 in most nations this solicitude usurps a marked and 
 prominent place among the cares of life. It is true 
 that apparel is not, like food and drink, of vital import- 
 ance, but it is made a central study with a large class of 
 people, and many a fine lady may be found who cares less 
 for her dinner than for her dress. Spite of all the phil- 
 osophic depreciation of " externals," and spite of all the 
 solemn preaching against u the lust of the eye, and the 
 
294 FASHION. 
 
 pride of life," the art of outward adornment continues 
 to be sedulously cultivated, and multitudes live as if dress 
 were the chief end of woman, if not of man. 
 
 Costume has a two-fold adaptation — for use, and for 
 adornment. Were we confined wholly to the former 
 end, not only would the major part of modern ward- 
 robes be swept out of existence, but we should lose much 
 that now constitutes the charm and the attraction of cos- 
 tume. A severe utilitarianism is almost as bad as an ex- 
 travagant profusion in dress. We cannot afford the ruin 
 of good taste, nor the loss of symmetry and harmony, 
 much better than we can afford the depletion of the purse 
 which such things cost. The ascetic argument about 
 dress is in no danger of carrying the day. A gener- 
 ation liberal enough to tolerate the expansive reign of 
 crinoline is not likely speedily to reduce the sex that 
 wears it to the sober inexpensiveness of drab. How- 
 2ver the true text, that u the Kingdom of God cometh 
 not by observation, 1 ' a majority of the fairer sex would 
 reluct at being seen even in ascension robes as homely 
 as are worn by the stricter Quakers or the Shaker sis- 
 terhood. 
 
 Decoration is the natural incident or complement of 
 dress, but is too often made its essence. The mere dis- 
 play of ornament marks a rude development of mind 
 and character. Michelet tells us of women of the most 
 savage races, painted and jewelled to the most extrava- 
 gant degree, but without a rag of clothing to cover them. 
 This love of the finery of dress, wholly distinct from its 
 use, is characteristic of the undeveloped negro race. 
 Surely, some of our would be elegant belles cannot have 
 considered what comparisons they provoke, when they 
 dazzle our eyes with a display of jewelry and of colors 
 which would excite the envy of the sable dames of Congo 
 or Dahomey. 
 
 Nothing in human nature is more remarkable than the 
 almost omnipotent power of custom over this matter of 
 dress, as of so many other things. Persons possessed of 
 the greatest independence in other matters, bow to the 
 irresistible dominion of the u fashion." It makes but 
 
FASHION. 295 
 
 little difference whether what is called the fashion be ra- 
 tional or ridiculous ; it is to be implicitly followed, so 
 long as it remains the mode. When it ceases to be the 
 mode, it ceases to be tolerable, however convenient or 
 admirable it may intrinsically be. It is true, variety is 
 tolerated within a certain range, but none of that per- 
 petual and wide diversity which would give character 
 and piquancy to our social gatherings is encouraged by 
 the leaders of taste and fashion, unless it be in that ex- 
 ception to all rules — a masquerade. 
 
 The imitative faculty is one of the strongest implanted 
 in nature, and its exercise is not confined to the uncul- 
 tivated and the rude. In conventional life, it causes men 
 to follow what is considered the highest standard, how- 
 ever far that standard may be from reason or nature. 
 King Charles has a wry neck, and all the courtiers culti- 
 vate the fashion of holding their heads on one side. No 
 people, in civilization or out of it, is insensible to the in- 
 fluence of custom. Curiously enough, England and 
 America borrow their fashions from France, and follow 
 them with a rigidity which far surpasses the originators. 
 Fortunately, we take after a nation remarkable for its 
 fickleness of character, so that no absurdity can be per- 
 petuated. Continual change gives the chance, at least, 
 of continual improvement, and we are in no danger of 
 deteriorating into a stereotype monotony of ugliness. 
 Imitation has its evils, but if the model be a progressive 
 one, variety is not one of them. We should hail with 
 gladness anything which promises to break up the dead 
 level of uniformity which seeks to reduce all characters, 
 costumes and manners to one common standard. 
 
 One is almost ashamed to speak of fashion. It is one 
 of those obstinate things that will not budge. It is the 
 only thing that a bad name will not kill. Like the hydra, 
 it always has two heads for the end cut off, a vitality that 
 the highest and holiest things have never yet stood up 
 against. I can conceive that fashion might become not 
 the minister of high art alone, but of morals and virtue ; 
 that in the hands of the noble and pure, and the broad 
 and true, it might become a real boon to man. Herbert 
 
296 FASHION 
 
 Spencer says: u As those who take orders are not those 
 having a special fitness for the priestly office; as legis- 
 lators and public functionaries do not become such by 
 virtue of their political insight and power to rule, so 
 the self-elected clique who set the fashion, gain this pre- 
 rogative, not by their force of nature, their intellect, 
 their higher worth or better taste, but solely by their un- 
 checked assumption. Instead of a continual progress 
 toward greater elegance and convenience, which might 
 be expected to occur, did people copy the ways of the 
 really best, or follow their own ideas of propriety, we 
 have a reign of mere whim, of unreason, of change for 
 the sake of change, of wanton oscillations from either 
 extreme to the other — a reign of usages without mean- 
 ing, times without fitness, dress without taste. And thus 
 life a la mode, instead of being life conducted in the 
 most rational manner, is life regulated by spendthrifts 
 and idlers, milliners and tailors, and dandies and silly 
 women!" Oh, that we should so stoop — we who call our- 
 selves, in churches, children of God, and claim that the 
 Almighty hath given us understanding — that we should 
 stoop to become puppets that will respond to any pull 
 that vulgar men or women choose? Jennie June, who 
 is well known as an entertaining fashion writer, says that 
 the Empress Eugenie does not originate the fashions, 
 neither do any ladies of real rank and distinction ; they 
 adopt them, and thus set the seal of their acknowledged 
 authority upon them, but no lady would be the first to 
 wear a striking novelty, or a style so new, or so outre as 
 to be likely to attract public attention. This is left for 
 the leaders of the demi-monde, several of whom are in 
 the pay of Parisian dress-makers and modistes. The 
 noted worth, the man-milliner of Paris, who receives all 
 the money and exercises all the impudence which have 
 placed him at the head of his profession, while women 
 do all the work, has in his employ a dozen fashion writers 
 and several of the most noted leaders of Parisian society. 
 These latter are selected for their fine appearance and 
 dashing manners. Toilettes, equipages and boxes at the 
 theatre and opera are provided for them. Dead or 
 
FASHION. 297 
 
 dying, they are required to show themselves at these 
 places on all suitable occasions, in extraordinary dresses 
 made by the "renowned" Worth, as the fashion corres- 
 pondents say, who in this way take up the burden of the 
 song, and echo it even upon these Western shores. It 
 is the height of ambition with some American women 
 to go to Paris, and have a dress made by Worth; and 
 dearly do they sometimes pay for their folly, not only in 
 immense prices for very small returns, but in degrading 
 their American womanhood by following in so disgraceful 
 a scramble with so mixed an assemblage. 
 
 An old Scottish preacher is reported to have said, in 
 one of his sermons at Aberdeen: u Ye people of Aber- 
 deen get your fashions from Glasgow, and Glasgow from 
 Edinburg, and Edinburg from London, and London from 
 Paris, and Paris from the Devil." 
 
 Fashion rules the world, and a most tyrannical mistress 
 she is,- — compelling people to submit to the most incon- 
 venient things imaginable for her sake. She pinche^ our 
 feet with tight shoes, or chokes us with a tight neck- 
 kerchief, or squeezes the breath out of our body by tight 
 lacing. She makes people sit up by night, when they 
 ought to be in bed, and keeps them in bed in the morn- 
 ing when they ought to be up and doing. She makes it 
 vulgar to wait upon ones' self, and genteel to live idly 
 and uselessly. She makes people visit when they would 
 rather stay at home, eat when they are not hungry, and 
 drink when they are not thirsty. She invades our pleas- 
 ures and interrupts our business. She compels people 
 to dress gaily, whether upon their own property or that 
 of others — whether agreeably to the word of God or 
 the dictates of pride. 
 
 Fashion kills more women than toil and sorrow. Obe- 
 dience to fashion is a greater transgression of the laws of 
 woman's nature, a greater injury to her physical and 
 mental constitution, than the hardships of poverty and 
 neglect. The slave woman at her task will live and grow 
 old, and see two or three generations of her mistress fade 
 and pass away. The washerwoman, with scarce a ray 
 of hope to cheer her toils, will live to see her fashionable 
 
29 S FASHION. 
 
 sisters all extinct. The kitchen maid is hearty and 
 strong when her lady has to be nursed like a sick baby. 
 It is a sad truth that fashion-pampered women are worth- 
 less for all the good ends of life ; they have but little 
 force of character, they have still less power of moral 
 will, and quite as little physical energy. They live for 
 no great purpose in life — they accomplish no great ends. 
 They are dolls, formed in the hands of milliners and 
 servants, to be dressed and fed to order. If they rear 
 children, servants and nurses do all, save conceive and 
 give them birth. And when reared what are they? 
 What do they ever amount to but weaker scions of the 
 old stock ? Who ever heard of a fashionable woman's 
 child exhibiting any virtue and power of mind for which 
 it became eminent? Read the biographies of our great 
 and good men and women. No one of them ever had a 
 fashionable mother. They nearly all sprang from women 
 who had as little to do with fashion as with the changing 
 of clouds. 
 
 Fashion is sensuous, and so is doomed to an endless 
 search of new stimulants, which leads to weariness and 
 satiation, as these do to callousness and cynicism. A sex- 
 agenary of fashion is, from inherent sequence, hard and 
 blase. His best years have been sucked of their sweet- 
 est juices by the petulant fevers of levity and ostenta- 
 tion; the ingots of his manhood he has beaten into shal- 
 low gilding and fantastic trinkets. His look into old age 
 is like that of the traveler, who, with his back to the 
 green and growing fields, peers over a precipice into an 
 extinct volcano ; except that the traveler can turn around 
 to enjoy again the freshness and flavor, while he has for- 
 feited such liberty. 
 
 We laugh heartily to see a whole flock of sheep jump 
 because one did so; but the multitude make themselves 
 equally ridiculous by slavishly following every new fash- 
 ion, and by doing just as the leaders of fashion do. 
 
 Emerson says an Englishman of fashion is like one of 
 those souvenirs, bound in gold vellum, enriched with 
 delicate engravings, on thick, hot pressed paper, fit for 
 the hands of ladies and princes, but nothing in it worth 
 reading or remembering. 
 
FASHION. 29$ 
 
 Fashion does not often caress the great, but the chil- 
 dren of the great ; it is a hall of the Past. It usually 
 sets its face against the great of this hour. 
 
 To be a woman of fashion is one of the easiest things 
 in the world. A late writer thus describes it: Buy 
 everything you don't want, and pay for nothing you get ; 
 smile on all mankind but your husband, be happy every- 
 where but at home ; neglect your children and nurse lap 
 dogs ; go to church every time you get a new dress. 
 
 To dress, to visit, to gossip, and to thrum the piano, 
 are the chief employments of the modern belle. 
 
 She winks, and giggles, and simpers, 
 
 And simpers, and giggles, and winks ; 
 And though she talks but little, 
 
 'Tis a great deal more than she thinks. 
 
 — Stake:. 
 
 Ladies of fashion starve their happiness to feed their 
 vanity, and their love to feed their pride. 
 
 Modern education too often covers the fingers with 
 rings, and at the same time cuts the sinews at the wrists. 
 
 Fashion is a good friend but a bad master. 
 
 It is lost labor, says Queensel, to consult the tastes oi 
 the world. They will never approve of our conduct 
 unless we approve of theirs. 
 
 Pride, Poverty, and Fashion, once undertook to keep 
 house together. 
 
 The three great conquerors of the world are Fashion, 
 Love and Death. 
 
 There is one fashion that never changes. The spark- 
 ling eye, the coral lip, the rose leaf blushing on the 
 cheek, the elastic step, are always in fashion. Health — 
 rosy, bouncing, gladsome health — is never out of fash- 
 ion ; what pilgrimages are made, what prayers are uttered 
 for its possession! Failing in the pursuit what treas- 
 ures are lavished in concealing its loss or counterfeiting 
 its charms J 
 
 A woman has no right to compress her vital organs 
 with stays, or prison her vitals under masses of whale- 
 bone and cotton, which may give a finer appearance of 
 development to the bust, but are a positive injury to the 
 health. 
 
DRESS. 
 
 We do not regard the love of dress in women, as any 
 thing very offensive, or wrong. It has been made a 
 subject for satire and ridicule, and with very little cause. 
 
 The organization of woman fits her for indoor labors, 
 as that of man for labors in the field, in the workshop, 
 or on the sea ; and with the organization, Providence has 
 mercifully joined a taste which makes the labor a pleas- 
 ure. The labor of the farmer is not all toil ; there is 
 enjoyment in the physical exertion, and independent of 
 any profit, enjoyment in the increasing beauty and fer- 
 tility of his lands. A woman is employed year after 
 year in household labors, in the care of children, and in 
 providing clothing for her family. Suppose that this 
 were all merely a work of necessity, that she took no 
 interest in the appearance of her children, had no taste 
 for dress, and no regard for the look of her home, — what 
 a wretched life hers would be ! Providence is wiser and 
 better than we are. By giving her those general ten- 
 dencies of taste which enable her to enjoy the employ- 
 ments by which she must be occupied, He has scattered 
 sunshine and flowers along the otherwise hard and dreary 
 path she must travel. The taste may be indulged to 
 excess and become a passion, but the possibility of this 
 is no objection to the original tendency. The use is 
 none the less, because the abuse is bad. 
 
 u But a taste for dress is frivolous." We see not why 
 it is more so than a taste for handsome houses, or a well- 
 ordered garden, or neatly cultivated fields. The wants 
 which these supply are not more important than those 
 supplied by dress. There may be as much vanity about 
 trees and gardens, about horses and sheep and dwellings, 
 as about clothing. We suppose that the preparation of 
 the dress of a family, furnishes a good discipline for the 
 temper and character. It certainly is a perpetual disci- 
 pline for the sense of the beautiful. Dress, to a woman 
 of taste, is as much one of the fine arts, as painting. 
 
DRESS. 301 
 
 " But she dresses to secure a frivolous admiration." 
 It is a cruel injustice. Most women are anxious about 
 dress, because they see it pleases brothers or sisters, hus- 
 bands or parents. We should think but poorly of a 
 young woman who had so got over these affectionate in- 
 stincts of her sex, had so risen above the natural love of 
 graceful forms and tasteful arrangements, as to care noth- 
 ing about her personal appearance. Instead of being 
 shocked by a well dressed woman, we confess that we 
 have not thought it altogether an unlovely spectacle. It is 
 an exhibition of neatness, good sense and a taste for the 
 beautiful, which we bear with great composure. 
 
 No doubt too much attention is given to dress, or rather 
 it is too much a matter of imitative fashion, and too little 
 a matter of personal taste. In many cases, it is doubt- 
 less connected with frivolity and selfishness, but no more 
 so than most other interests. Moreover, we see not why 
 the making of a garment is not as intellectual an employ- 
 ment, and is not as important to domestic happiness, and 
 does not furnish as good a school for taste and temper as 
 the traffic of the merchant, the arrangements of the law- 
 yer, or the labors of the mechanic. 
 
 For ourselves, we never see a mother endeavoring to 
 array a child in a becoming garb without being touched 
 by it. Her child is to her the most beautiful object in 
 nature. She delights to have all things beautiful around 
 it. It is the light of her* eyes; and this enjoyment is a 
 compensation appointed by Providence for the wearing 
 and exhausting cares which eat away her strength and 
 mar her beauty We think quite as well of the taste 
 cultivated in dress, as of that which, growing outside of 
 the ordinary round of household life, seeks its gratifica- 
 tion in any of the other fine arts. 
 
 We have but one woid more. Where it is a real taste 
 in dress, and not subserviency to fashion, or selfish crav- 
 ing for display, a woman will show it as much at home, 
 with her own family, as when abroad in company. She 
 will not dress in the same way ; but in her simplest attire, 
 every one who sees her will recognize a prevailing sense 
 of the beautiful. Though shut up in her chamber alone, 
 
302 DRESS. 
 
 it will still appear, because even when alone, she cannot 
 endure to have around her what offends her refinement 
 and sense of the beautiful. And this delicacy of taste 
 which appears in dress, in manners and in the ordering 
 of her household, will make a poor dwelling attractive 
 and cheap materials ornamental, and in the orderly habits 
 it implies, will have much to do with the culture and 
 happiness of all beneath her roof. 
 
 We once heard a mother say to her little girl, " You 
 shouldn't mind your dress. It doesn't matter how you 
 look, if you only behave well." This mistaken woman 
 may have thought it would make no difference if all the 
 trees were Solferino, and were ugly in form, instead of 
 beautiful, provided they gave as cool a shade, and were 
 just as good for the lumber business. If we observe 
 nature closely, we shall see that, with her, the purpose 
 of dress are use and beauty ; and that what she clothes, 
 she dresses to perfection. The horse has his thick fur 
 coat for winter, and his silken one for summer. The gay 
 plumage of the birds protects them from the pelting 
 storm, and delights the eye of the beholder. And the 
 earth wears, now a mantle of snow, to shield her from the 
 piercing cold ; and now, her robe of green, besprinkled 
 with flowers. Then she is lovely. Then her children 
 rejoice in her beauty as if it were her own. 
 
 Dress affects our manners. A man who is badly dressed 
 feels chilly, sweaty, and prickly. He stammers, and 
 does not always tell the truth. He means to, perhaps, 
 but he can't. He is half distracted about his pantaloons, 
 which are much too short, and are constantly hitching 
 up; or his frayed jacket and crumpled linen narrow his 
 soul, and quite unmans him. He treads on the train of 
 a lady's dress, and says " Thank you," sits down on his 
 hat, and wishes the " desert were his dwelling place." 
 
 An ill dressed woman suffers torments. 
 
 To advise a young lady to dress herself with any 
 serious eccentricity from the prevailing fashion of 
 her day and class, is to advise her to incur a penalty 
 which may very probably be the wreck of her whole 
 life's happiness. A girl begins, perhaps, with some 
 
DRESS. 303 
 
 moderate and really rational piece of originality ; but it 
 makes her look " odd." She is less welcome in the draw- 
 ing-room of her friends, and less comfortable when she is 
 there. Men sneer at her, and persons allow coarse jokes 
 at her expense. Women are so busy defending her little 
 eccentricity, that they have no time left to estimate her 
 positive merits. She is like Gibson's tinted Venus. 
 Every stupid spectator criticises the tint, not one in a 
 thousand thinks at all of the loveliness of the statue. 
 By-and-by the eccentricities of our friend are a little ex- 
 ercised. She cannot abandon them without a vast 
 humiliation and confession that she was wrong; she is 
 already singular, she may as well be wholly so. " In for 
 a penny, in for a pound." Unless she is more than mortal 
 she soon feels a little isolated, and shrinks from society. 
 Then she is annoyed in the street. The woman who 
 stands this, and feels no cynicism growing up, and remains 
 sweet, and good-humoured, and gentle, and tender 
 through life under such circumstances, is very little short 
 of a saint. She has secured for herself the conditions 
 under which such virtues are most difficult, almost unat- 
 tainable ; and for the sake of a more comfortable hat, a 
 shorter skirt, or a stronger pair of boots. 
 
 But it is only the fault of public opinion that any 
 penalties at all follow innovations in themselves sensible 
 and modest. To train this public opinion by degrees, to 
 bear with more variations of costume, and especially to 
 insist upon the the principle of fitness as the first requisite 
 of beauty, should be the aim of all sensible women. Can 
 anything be in worse taste than to wear clothes by which 
 our natural movements are impeded, and our purposes, 
 of whatever sort, thwarted by our own habiliments. It 
 is, in the strictest sense, barbaric, like a Chinese woman's 
 foot, to load ourselves with long, trailing skirts when we 
 wish to take a brisk walk, or to run up and down stairs. 
 To wear bonnets which give no shade to the eyes, under 
 a summer sun, and need to be supplemented by the im- 
 perfect aid of a parasol at every moment, is another 
 fallacy of taste. Still worse is the folly of pinching the 
 feet into thin, tight boots, which permit of fatal damp 
 
304 DRESS. 
 
 and chill to the feet, and cramp the limb into a pitiful liule 
 wedge of flesh, with the distorted extremities crunched 
 up under it. Not one modern European lady's foot in 
 five hundred could be looked at if placed in an antique 
 sandal. It is certainly a small aesthetic gain to lose the 
 beauty of the human limb to improve the elegance of the 
 shoemaker's manufacture. Worst of all, an evil for which 
 no words can be found strong enough, is the evil of 
 woman's stays. Why American and European women 
 are tormented by these abominable machines, which the 
 ithesome women of the East have never borne, it is hard 
 to imagine. If we desire to find a type of woman's 
 weakness, moral and physical, its causes and its effect, we 
 could hit on no better emblem than a pair of stays. 
 
 The true object and importance of taste in dress few 
 understand. Let no woman suppose that any man can 
 be really indifferent to her appearance. The instinct 
 may be deadened in his mind by a slatternly, negligent 
 mother, or by plain maiden sisters; but she may be sure 
 it is there, and, with little adroitness, capable of revival. 
 Of course, the immediate effect of a well-chosen feminine 
 toilet operates differently in different minds. In some, 
 it causes a sense of actual pleasure ; in others, a conscious- 
 ness of passive enjoyment. In some, it is intensely felt 
 while it is present ; in others only missed when it is gone. 
 
 Beauty in dress is a good thing, rail at it who may. 
 But it is a lower beauty, for which a higher beauty should 
 not be sacrificed. They love dress too much who give 
 it their first thought, their best time, or all their money ; 
 who for it neglect the culture of mind or heart, or the 
 claims of others on their service ; who care more for their 
 dress than their disposition ; who are troubled more by 
 an unfashionable bonnet than a neglected duty. 
 
 The influence of costume is incalculable ; dress a boy 
 as a man and he will at once change his own conception 
 of himself. Yet dress does not make the man. We do 
 not value a gem by what it is set in. A man in the finest 
 suit of clothes is often a shabbier fellow than another 
 dressed in rags. A seedy coat very often covers a heart 
 in full bloom. " How do you feel, with such a shocking 
 
DRESS. 305 
 
 looking coat on ?" said a young clerk of some preten- 
 sions one morning to old Roger. "I feel," said old 
 Roger, looking at him with one eye half closed, as if 
 taking aim at his victim — " I feel, young man, as if I 
 had a coat on which I had paid for — a luxury of feeling 
 which I think you will never experience." It has been 
 said that he is a brave man who is not afraid to wear old 
 clothes until he is able to pay for new ones. With dan- 
 dies, the most unfashionable clothes are those that are paid 
 for. Says Prentice, it is always a waste of raw material 
 to put five dollars worth of beaver on ten cents worth of 
 brains. Those who are incapable of shining but by dress, 
 would do well to consider that the contrast between 
 them and their clothes turns out much to their dis- 
 advantage. 
 
 An old sea captain used to say he didn't care how he 
 dressed when abroad, "because nobody knew him." 
 And he didn't care how he dressed when at home, be- 
 cause everybody knew him. 
 
 A man is first judged by his dress; afterwards by what 
 he turns out to be. There is the story of the celebrated 
 painter and poet, Buchin, who walking one day in very 
 shabby clothes became more an object of derision than 
 regard. He was mortified and went home, and ar- 
 rayed himself in his best, and again walked out, to 
 receive on every hand obsequious attention. His morti- 
 fication turned to anger, and going home he threw his 
 gold-laced coat on the floor, and, stamping on it, exclaim- 
 ed: " Art thou Buchin, or am I !" 
 
 Dress does not make the man, but makes him good 
 looking ; or at least improves his looks. 
 
 Garments of beauty may cover, but they can never im- 
 part worth to abandoned character. 
 
 The medium between a fop and a sloven is what a man 
 of sense would endeavor to keep ; yet I remember Mr. 
 Osborne advises his son to appear in his habit rather 
 above than below his fortune ; and tells him that he will 
 find a handsome suit of clothes always procures some ad- 
 ditional respect. I have, indeed, myself observed that 
 my banker ever bows lowest to me when I wear my full- 
 
306 DRESS. 
 
 bottomed wig; and writes me "Mr." or " Esq." accord- 
 ing as he sees me dressed. 
 
 "When a stranger treats me with want of respect," 
 said a poor philosopher, U I comfort myself with the 
 reflection that it is not myself he slights, but my old and 
 shabby hat and coat, which, to say the truth, have no 
 particular claim to adoration. So, if my hat and coat 
 choose to fret about it, let them; but it is nothing to me." 
 
 Beauty gains little, and homeliness and deformity lose 
 much, by gaudy attire. Lysander knew this was in part 
 true, and refused the rich garments that the tyrant 
 Dionysius proffered to his daughter, saying, "that they 
 were fit only to make unhappy faces more remarkable." 
 
 Women are more like flowers than we think. In their 
 dress and adornment they express their natures, as the 
 flowers in their petals and colors. Some women are like 
 the modest daisies and violets — they never look or feel 
 better than when dressed in a morning- wrapper. Others 
 are not themselves unless they can flame out in gorgeous 
 dyes, like the tulip or blush-rose. Who has not seen 
 women just like white lillies ? We know several double 
 marigolds and poppies. There are women fit only for 
 velvets, like the dahlias ; others are graceful and airy, 
 like the azaleas. Now and then you see hollyhocks and 
 sun-flowers. When women are free to dress as they 
 like, uncontrolled by others, and not limited by their 
 circumstances, they do not fail to express their true 
 characters, and dress becomes a form of expression very 
 genuine and useful. 
 
 The body is the shell of the soul, and the dress is the husk 
 of the body ; but the husk generally tells what the kernel is. 
 
 A vulgar taste is not to be disguised by gold or dia- 
 monds. The absence of true taste and refinement or 
 delicacy, cannot be compensated for by the possession of 
 the most princely fortune. Mind measures gold. Gold 
 cannot measure mind. Through dress the mind may be 
 read, as through the delicious tissue of the lettered page. 
 
 A modest woman will dress modestly. A really refined 
 and intellectual woman will bear the marks of grace 
 ful selection and taste. 
 
DRESS. 307 
 
 Man and woman in pure linen, in unstained apparel, 
 in choice personal adornment, have a sense of dignity 
 and elevation which those in slovenly garb do not ex- 
 perience. And it is no particular sin if this sort of ele- 
 vation is carried a little too far. Pride, of course, often 
 enters into fine dressing, and many women, particularly, 
 are fond of flaunting their fine feathers in people's eyes ; 
 but a great majority love handsome dressing in obedience 
 to an instinct of refinement — in consequence of that 
 sense of personal purity which accompanies the wearing 
 of choice apparel. 
 
 Those who think that in order to dress well, it is neces- 
 sary to dress extravagantly or gaudily, make a great 
 mistake. Nothing so well becomes true feminine beauty 
 as simplicity. We have seen many a remarkably fine 
 person robbed of its true effect by being overdressed. 
 Nothing is more unbecoming than overloading beauty. 
 The stern simplicity of the classic tastes is seen in the 
 old statues and in the pictures painted by men of superi- 
 or artistic genius. In Athens, the ladies were not gaudily, 
 but simply arrayed, and we doubt whether any ladies 
 have ever excited more admiration. So also the noble 
 old Roman matrons, whose superb forms were gazed on 
 delightedly by men worthy of them, were always very 
 plainly dressed. Fashion often presents the hues of the 
 butterfly, but fashion is not a classic goddess. 
 
 The overdressing of American ladies in the streets, at 
 hotels, and in the churches, is a subject of general remark 
 among the travelers from abroad, as well as sensible people 
 at home ; American women are slaves to dress; it is the 
 bane of their life, ay, and of the male victims, too, 
 whose lives are connected with theirs. Traveling trunks, 
 almost as large as a small house, must be carried about, 
 filled with all sorts of finery, for a summer jaunt to 
 watering places, and for a winter visit to a city. The 
 father or husband vainly remonstrates ; flounced dresses 
 and crinoline must have ample space, and there must be 
 a variety, too, in the costumes. u Heaven save the 
 ladies, how they dress ! " may well be exclaimed. Why 
 will they not become more practical? Does the most 
 
308 DRESS. 
 
 fastidious critic of female beauty admire a young lady in 
 full toilette more than in simple dress ? If beautiful there 
 is no need of ornament ; if plain, she should appear with- 
 out pretension. We have known ladies who have 
 traveled through the continent of Europe, with only a 
 small trunk to contain their wardrobe, and they found a 
 wonderful relief in not having " too much to wear." 
 
 As a fashionably dressed young lady passed some 
 gentlemen the other day, one of them raised his hat, 
 whereupon another, struck by the fine appearance of the 
 lady, made some enquiries concerning her, and was 
 answered thus: u She makes a pretty ornament in her 
 father's house, but otherwise is of no use." 
 
 A recent lady writer says : " You may be well dressed 
 without great expense. The entire costume of the best 
 dressed lady that we ever saw did not cost twenty -five 
 dollars — she wore her own hair — she had not a puff, a 
 frill, a bit of ribbon, or lace, a jewel or ornament of any 
 kind about her, except a moss rose at her throat where 
 her dainty little collar was fastened. Perhaps it is only 
 fair to say that she was beautiful, and that we may have 
 looked at her more than at her clothes. Be that as it 
 may, from that day to this we have studied simplicity in 
 dress, and we think it has done us good. 
 
 A friend of ours, says the Portland Ti-anscript, who 
 had long been absent, returned recently, and called upon 
 two beautiful young ladies of his acquaintance. One 
 came quickly to greet him in the neat, yet not precise 
 attire, in which she was performing her household duties. 
 The other, after the lapse of half an hour, made her 
 stately entrance, in all the primness of starch and 
 ribbons, with which, on the announcement of his entrance, 
 she had hastened to bedeck herself. Our friend, who 
 had long been hesitating on his choice between the two, 
 now hesitated no longer. The cordiality with which the 
 first hastened to greet him, and the charming careless- 
 ness of her attire, entirely won his heart. She is now 
 his wife. Young ladies, take warning from the above, and 
 never refuse to see a friend because you have on a wash 
 gown. Be assured the true gentleman will not think 
 
DRESS. 309 
 
 less of you because he finds you in the performance 
 of your duties, and not ashamed to let it be known. 
 Besides, there may positively be a grace, a witching 
 wildness about an every day dress, that adds to every 
 charm of face and feature. Old Merrick expresses this 
 u delight in disorder," far better than we can : 
 
 "A sweet disorder in the dress, 
 
 A happy kind of carelessness ; 
 
 A. lawn upon the shoulders thrown, 
 
 Into a fine distraction ; 
 
 An erring lace, which here and there 
 
 Enthrals the crimson stomacher, 
 
 A cuff neglectful and thereby 
 
 Ribands that flow confusedly ; 
 
 A winning wave, deserving note, 
 
 In the tempestuous petticoat ; 
 
 A careless shoe string, in whose tie 
 
 I see a wild civility — 
 
 Do more bewitch me than where art 
 
 Is too precise in every part." 
 
 In dress and manner, the late Mrs. Seward, wife of the 
 Secretary of State, is described as simple and unos- 
 tentatious to singularity. A smart mechanic's wife would 
 not have exchanged wardrobes with her, and her 
 milliner's apprentice looked at her in pitying wonder for 
 her lost opportunities. And Mrs. Seward was regarded 
 as one of the excellent of the earth, a woman of wonder- 
 ful intellectual power and great breadth of attainment — 
 the companion, confidant, counselor of her husband — one 
 who read his written speeches before the printer saw 
 them, and gave an opinion which he valued more than 
 any other — one who read and digested long, tiresome 
 documents, and gave him the substance in a few moments 
 fireside chat, thus contributing largely to that fund of 
 information which distinguished Mr. Seward. She was 
 his " higher law" adviser, and whenever his policy fell 
 below that standard, he had differed with her in opinion. 
 She ever regarded the right as the expedient ; or, in other 
 words, aimed always to walk in the narrow path straight 
 toward u the mark for the prize of the high calling which 
 is in Christ Jesus, our Lord." 
 
DRESS AT CHURCH. 
 
 Harper's Bazaar is certainly not very Puritanic on 
 questions of dress. Perhaps the good people who are 
 more under bondage to fine dressing than they suppose, 
 will like its opinion on this subject of dressing for church: 
 
 " The best bred people of every Christian country but 
 our own avoid all personal display when engaged in wor- 
 ship and prayer. Our churches, on the contrary, are 
 made places for the exhibition of fine apparel and other 
 costly and flaunting compliances with fashion, by those 
 who boast of superior wealth and manners. We shall 
 leave our gewgawed devotees to reconcile humiliation in 
 worship with vanity in dress. That is a problem which 
 we confess we have neither the right nor the capacity to 
 solve. How far fine clothes may affect the personal 
 piety of the devotees we do not pretend to even conjec- 
 ture ; but we have a very decided opinion in regard to 
 their influence upon the religion of others. The fact is, 
 that our churches are so fluttering with birds of fine 
 feathers that no sorry fowl will venture in. It is impossi- 
 ble for poverty in rags and patches, or even in decent 
 but humble costume, to take its seat, if it should be so 
 fortunate as to find a place, by the side of wealth in 
 brocade and broadcloth. The poor are so awed by the 
 pretension of superior dress and " the proud man's con- 
 tumely," that they naturally avoid too close a proximity 
 to them. The church being the only place on this side 
 of the grave designed for the rich and the poor to meet 
 together in equal prostration before God, it certainly 
 should always be kept free for this common humilia- 
 tion and brotherhood. It is so in most of the churches in 
 Europe, where the beggar in rags and wretchedness 
 and the wealthiest and most eminent, whose appropriate 
 sobriety of dress leaves them without mark of external 
 distinction, kneel down together, equalized by a common 
 humiliation before the only Supreme Being. The adop- 
 tion of a more simple attire for church on the part of 
 
 310 
 
WEARING MOURNING. 311 
 
 the rich in this country would have the effect, certainly 
 not of diminishing their own personal piety, but probably 
 of increasing the disposition for religious observance on 
 the part of the poor. 
 
 We cannot comprehend how a deep spiritual yearning, 
 an earnest hearty devotion, can co-ordinate with the 
 gaudy plumage of the peacock or the conspicuous exhibi- 
 tion of flashing jewels. Tasteful attire, suited to the 
 wearer's personate, is not out of place anywhere ; for that 
 which is truly tasteful cannot but be acceptable to all. 
 
 The following are given as good reasons for dressing 
 plain on the Lord's day : 
 
 1. It would lessen the burdens of many who find it 
 hard to maintain their place in society. 
 
 2. It would lessen the force of the temptations 
 which often lead men to barter honor and honesty for 
 display. 
 
 3. If there was less strife in dress at church, people in 
 moderate circumstances would be more inclined to 
 attend. 
 
 4. Universal moderation in dress at church would im- 
 prove the worship by the removal of many wandering 
 thoughts. 
 
 5. It would enable all classes of people to attend 
 church better in unfavorable weather. 
 
 6. It would lessen, on the part of the rich, the tempta- 
 tion to vanity. 
 
 7. It would lessen, on the part of the poor, the tempta- 
 tion to be envious and malicious. 
 
 8. It would save valuable time on the Sabbath. 
 
 9. It would relieve our means for a serious pressure, 
 and thus enable us to do more for good enterprise. 
 
 WEARING MOURNING. 
 
 We long for the day when this custom shall be obso- 
 lete. It is unbecoming the truly afflicted one. The 
 wearer says by the black garment, " I have lost a dear 
 
312 WEARING MOURNING. 
 
 friend. I am in deep sorrow." But true grief does not 
 wish to parade itself before the eye of the stranger ; 
 much less does it assert its extent. The stricken one 
 naturally goes apart from the world to pour out the tears. 
 Real affliction seeks privacy. It is no respect to the de- 
 parted friend to say we are in sorrow. If we have real 
 grief it will be discovered. 
 
 When God has entered a household in the awful 
 chastisement of death, it is time for religious meditation 
 and communion with God on the part of the survivors. 
 How sadly out of place, then, are the milliner and dress- 
 maker, the tying on of dresses and the trimming of 
 bonnets. There is something profane in exciting the 
 vanity of a young girl by fitting a waist or trying on a hat, 
 when the corpse of a father is lying in an adjoining room. 
 It is a sacrilege to drag the widow forth from grief to be 
 fitted for a gown, or to select a veil. It is often terribly 
 oppressive to the poor. The widow left desolate, with 
 half a dozen little children, the family means already re- 
 duced by the long sickness of the father, must draw on 
 her scanty purse to pay for a new wardrobe for herself 
 and children, throwing away the goodly stock of gar- 
 ments already prepared, when she likely knows not 
 where she is to get bread for her little ones. Truly 
 may fashion be called a tyrant, when it robs a widow 
 of her last dollar. Surely your sorrow will not be ques- 
 tioned, even if you should not call in the milliner to help 
 display it. Do not in your afflictions help od a custom 
 which will turn the afflictions of your poorer neighbors 
 to deeper poverty, as well as sorrow. 
 
 Mme. Demorest, in her new book, the Dressmaker, in 
 speaking of the French, says : "I believe they never wear 
 crape at all, and I cannot see how any one, living or 
 dead, is the worse for it. In hot weather, to condemn 
 mourners to the use of black cloth is a mild form of suttee, 
 and should in common charity be abolished." 
 
 It was the rule at the Court of the Byzantine Empire 
 from the foundation of Constantinople by Constantine the 
 Great, when the father, mother, wife, son, or grandson 
 of the emperor died, while they were reigning, for the 
 
ABOUT JEWELRY. 313 
 
 sovereign to be clothed in white garments for as long a 
 period as he considered proper; afterwards to change 
 them for plain yellow ; then for yellow embroidered with 
 gold and precious stones, edged with trimmings of 
 purple ; and then to resume his usual imperial costume. 
 During the period of the emperor's white mourning, every 
 one of his subjects, from the highest to the lowest, had 
 to wear black ; and during the yellow mourning the near 
 relatives of the dead had to be attired in black for forty 
 days, even in the presence of the emperor ; afterwards in 
 blue, until he went out of mourning, when theirs also 
 expired. 
 
 ABOUT JEWELRY. 
 
 " Like a jewel in an Ethiop's ear." 
 
 That is just where it belongs. The love of jewelry 
 is barbaric. In savage countries, where gold or pearls, 
 feathers or shells, and that " kind of motley" is your 
 only wear, ornaments in the absence of all other dress, are 
 the sole evidences of rank and consequence. In such a 
 state, the ear-ring and the nose-ring, the chains, the hoops, 
 the trinkets, trapping and other gauds, are most probably 
 genuine. Paste, perfumery and imposture are the later 
 products of civilization, and belong to the march of in- 
 tellect and the progress of the race. Mankind have 
 already reached a stage of improvement, when it be- 
 comes an important question, — whether jewelry has not 
 exhausted its usefulness, and seen its best days. Can it 
 do anything more for men and women ? Having risen 
 with the rich and great, and perhaps helped them up to 
 their present height of refinement, are now these costly 
 gems to fall off soon, and sink down among the unintel- 
 lectual, barbarous people whence they sprang ? 
 
 Diamonds and pearls ; gold and sapphires ; emeralds 
 and carbuncles, and the whole family of gems, have run 
 their race, and become as obsolete and useless as hour- 
 
314 ABOUT JEWELRY. 
 
 glasses and clepsydras. They all have alike ceased to 
 indicate anything, even the poor merit of being rich. 
 The gold watch astonishes no more ; it may be only a 
 Peter Funk. Who can tell whether that yellow cable 
 dangling from the waiscoat is a genuine Californian ? Is 
 that gooseberry -looking thing in the bosom a real emerald? 
 Or that glistening bauble, a brilliant or bastard ? Time 
 was when these various appendages were diplomas of the 
 condition of the wearer. But now, instead of determining 
 the character of the craft by the flag flying in the rigging, 
 the process is reversed. The face, and hands, and air of 
 the individual are to be carefully scrutinized ; his conver- 
 sation, if possible, listened to ; when his words are duly 
 weighed, and his manners duly noted, then, and not be- 
 fore, is the ring upon his finger pronounced a sapphire, 
 or a sham ; and the immense chain he patiently lugs about 
 determined to be pure deception or pure dust. 
 
 What is the use now of all this savage refinery ? It 
 certifies nothing — except it is the silliness of the person 
 who thinks it does. If we know beforehand that the 
 wearer is a nabob, we conclude the yellow glitter is a 
 topaz, and not glass. But we do not then want the in- 
 formation ; if it is not an interpreter it is nothing. How 
 ridiculous are all cheating imitations of gold and precious 
 stones ! They are nothing till their character is ascer- 
 tained. When that is done they are worse than nothing 
 — deceiving nobody, but disgusting every man of sense ; 
 not useless simply, but ridiculous. Let oysters wear 
 pearls, and .toads carry gems, as they have been 
 feigned to do, in their heads ; the jewel reputation is the 
 only one worth a real man's care. So universal has the 
 taste for finery become, that a plain dress is now a badge 
 of distinction. 
 
 The best dressed men wear the least jewelry. Of all 
 things avoid showy chains, large rings, and gewgaw pins 
 and broaches. All these things should be left to Negroes, 
 Indians and South Sea Islanders. 
 
 We have seen young ladies so radiant with the splendors 
 of rings, pins and beads, that they might almost be mis- 
 taken for the daughters of savages. We have bees 
 
EXTRAVAGANCE. 315 
 
 tempted to wish that they might have one other piece 
 of jewelry — the fabulous ring of Gyges, which is said 
 to have rendered the wearer invisible. 
 
 EXTRAVAGANCE. 
 
 Extravagance in living is rapidly becoming the beset- 
 ting sin of all our large cities. In fact, it is getting to 
 be one of our national characteristics, and even foreigners 
 who visit us, and who are familiar with the luxurious 
 habits of the upper classes of European society, are as- 
 tonished at the recklessness with which Americans now- 
 a-days spend their money. 
 
 Iq this respect, things are different with us from what 
 they were in former times. The days of republican sim- 
 plicity and frugality, when o\w fathers were content with 
 the gains of legitimate business, and honesty among the- 
 commercial classes was the rule rather than the exception, 
 having given place to an era of fast living, as well as ac- 
 quiring wealth. But the great trouble with us is, that 
 the personal and family expenses of a large portion of 
 our Easiness men, during the last few years, have increased 
 much faster in proportion than their means of indulgence. 
 
 Formerly, the partners of every well-to-do mercantile 
 firm were in the habit of allowing a large portion of theii 
 annual profits to be reinvested as additional capital in 
 their business, and of living plainly and economically 
 upon the balance until able to retire upon a competency. 
 Now, every young man, as soon as he becomes estab- 
 lished in business, in order to secure his entre into society, 
 must affect a princely style of living, which compels him 
 to spend all his income, and sometimes to encroach upon 
 his capital. 
 
 It is a notorious fact, since the close of the war, with 
 the great falling off in business profits consequent upon 
 the general shrinkage of value, a great many merchants 
 and manufacturers have been living beyond their in- 
 comes. They know very well if they continue to go on 
 
316 EXTRAVAGANCE. 
 
 in this way they will soon have ruin and bankruptcy 
 staring them in the face. But they prefer to run the 
 risk, and trust to better times, or in some lucky stroke 
 of speculation to retrieve their fortunes, rather than re- 
 trench. They are men of the world, courting popularity 
 and influence, whose wives and daughters move in the 
 charmed circle of fashionable society, and they cannot 
 bear to give up any portion, however trifling, of theii 
 outward display of opulence, for fear of losing caste. 
 
 The private dwellings of our citizens become every year 
 more spacious, more lofty and of more ambitious arch- 
 itecture. Distant quarries are exhausted to supply ma- 
 terials, and the skill of our architects fatigued to furnish 
 imposing plans and to vary the ornaments of the exterior. 
 Within, the inmates tread on the choicest carpets woven 
 in the looms of Brussels and Turkey; and windows are 
 curtained with the costliest and most exquisite tissues; 
 the walls are hidden with immense mirrors ; the chimney 
 pieces are of the finest marble of Italy or Egypt, and 
 wrought into the most elaborate carvings. Veins of 
 water are conducted to the uppermost stories to supply 
 the baths, and streams of gas leading to every apartment, 
 break out into jets of white flame at the will of the 
 inmates. The sofas, the chairs, the couches, the tables, 
 are of the latest Paris patterns, and when they have lost 
 their first lustre, or have ceased to be the fashion of the 
 day, they are. sent to the auctions for sale. 
 
 Luxury and self-indulgence are unfavorable to the 
 physical and intellectual and moral strength of a people. 
 Such indulgence tends to effeminacy. If New York be- 
 comes Paris, and our country like France, we shall fall 
 an easy prey to the first giant who lays his hand upon us. 
 
 Hon. John A. Dix, in a recent lecture before the His- 
 torical Society, made the following just remarks : " Noth- 
 ing can be more unwise than the erection of costly dwell- 
 ings, which can only be maintained by princely fortunes. 
 At the death of the head of a family, and a division of 
 the ancestral property, no one of the children, as a gen- 
 eral rule, has enough to support the establishment, and 
 it passes into other hands. Nothing can be more cruel 
 
EXTRAVAGANCE. 31 T 
 
 than to bring up children with expectations which cannot 
 be fulfilled, and with habits of life which they are com- 
 pelled to abandon. The parent, for the sake of a few- 
 years of ostentation, invests a large portion of his estate- 
 in a splendid dwelling, with the certainty that his death 
 will be the signal for the expulsion of his children from 
 jt. Nothing can be more inconsiderate, if it is done with- 
 out reflection, or more unfeeling, if it is done with a full 
 view of the inevitable consequences. Look for the splen- 
 did mansions of thirty years ago, and see what has be- 
 come of them. Scarcely one remains in the family by 
 which it was constructed. They are boarding-houses^ 
 places of public exhibition, or the workshops of fashion." 
 
 To dress according to one's means, to wear out old 
 clothes, not to change the coat and hat as frequently as 
 the fashion changes, to refrain from too much pleasure 
 riding for want of means to pay, to deny one's self luxu- 
 ries which may well be dispensed with, to withhold bor- 
 rowed money from various objects of charity — in fine to 
 practice a decent economy, pay one's honest debts, and 
 save a small pittance for a rainy day — this is meanness^ 
 littleness, in the opinion of the extreme fashionable 
 world. 
 
 The extravagance of the American people is often com- 
 mented upon in this country and in France. In the lux- 
 uries of living I am satisfied no people surpass the masses 
 of the United States, and there can be no question but 
 that this often runs into prodigality in the use of money. 
 In the higher circles and among the nobility of the Old 
 World there is every enjoyment which wealth can pur- 
 chase, but the great middle class and the poor do not 
 compare with our own in the elegancies and comforts of 
 life. Probably no nation so generally wear costly silks, 
 satins and other fabrics to the extent which is seen in the 
 United States ; and a Kidderminster carpet manufacturer 
 recently stated to the writer that America used more val- 
 uable articles in that branch than any other people, and 
 the most extensive orders for pattern carpets, woven to 
 fit the rooms, were from that country. He also states 
 that Boston surpassed all other American markets in the 
 
318 EXTRAVAGANCE. 
 
 demand for these expensive fabrics. In America a family 
 is thought poor indeed which has no carpet on the floor, 
 and most of our readers would have been impressed with 
 the difference if they had walked with me a few days 
 since through the streets of Kidderminster and looked 
 into the rooms of the poorer people, whose doors open 
 on a level with the street into the apartments where they 
 live. Most of these, almost under the shadow of the 
 great factories from which our people get their carpets, 
 were not only uncarpeted, but the floors were of brick 
 or tile, which had been used for scores or hundreds of 
 years. One shudders at the sight of such homes, and 
 wonders that the inmates are not chilled to death in the 
 cold, damp winter. Most of the floors of the cathedrals 
 and churches are of the same material, and bespeak but 
 little of the comfort and neatness of the better class of 
 churches in the United States. 
 
 In every portion of Europe, Americans have the name of 
 being the most extravagant people in the world. British 
 opulence and Russian magnificence have palled in the 
 presence of republican grandeur. Every great continen- 
 tal city has some incident to relate which illustrates Am- 
 erican lavishness. An incident was recently mentioned 
 in a lace house in Paris, which has become historical. 
 The proprietor called attention to a photograph hung on 
 his wall. He remarked: "That is the picture of the 
 memorable lace purchase by Kate Chase, daughter of 
 Chief Justice Chase, and wife of Senator Sprague." It 
 was understood to be the finest point lace ever made. 
 The Queen of England and the Empress of France con- 
 sidered it too expensive, but the wife of an American 
 Senator did not hesitate to pay $18,000 in gold for six 
 and a half yards. Of course, a woman of such artistic 
 notions is immensely admired in Paris. The Western 
 people, particularly Californians, are considered the most 
 lavish in the use of their money. Two of the fairer sexes 
 from San Francisco recently ordered eighty-five dresses. 
 Even the agent, though an American, was astonished at 
 such an order, but it was faithfully executed. With such 
 evidence of American lavishness, it is not surprising that 
 
EXTRAVAGANCE. 319 
 
 the Russians and the English have become secondary 
 to the Americans m all the marts of fashion. 
 
 No doubt there are extravagant women, but after all, 
 as a class, American women are not extravagant, as a 
 whole ; they are, in fact, the best of economists ; for they 
 make small means go farther in their own expenses and 
 -in their households than any women in the world. That 
 there are extravagant women as there are men, no one 
 of course denies ; that there are some who live only to 
 make a show and glitter, is true, but in comparison with 
 the whole number of wives and mothers, and daughters, 
 these are but very few indeed. They will make, more 
 cheerfully and without complaint, more devoted sacrifices, 
 for their husbands and children, than any other women. 
 They bow with more dignity and grace to the loss of 
 property, and bear up with more resolution and fortitude 
 under adverse circumstances, than any other of their sex. 
 There never has been exhibited in the world's history 
 more and nobler heroism or greater self sacrifice than by 
 the women of the United States during the late rebellion. 
 
 Go up and down Broadway, through all the streets 
 into all the cities and larger towns, and where you find 
 one place fitted up for women to trade and buy in, you 
 will find ten saloons, restaurants, grog-shops, cigar stores, 
 sample rooms, concert halls, and other places where men 
 pay large sums in the aggregate for things which profit 
 neither "body, mind nor estate," but weaken the one, 
 enervate the other, and waste the last. 
 
 Those who live to the future must always appear selfish 
 to those who live for the present. 
 
 It is better to be laughed at than ruined ; better to have 
 a wife who, like Marshall's Mamurra, cheapens every- 
 thing and buys nothing, than to be impoverished by one 
 whose vanity will purchase everything, but whose pride 
 will cheapen nothing. 
 
 The miser grows rich by seeming poor; an extrava- 
 gant man grows poor by seeming rich. 
 
 To live above your station shows a proud heart, and 
 to live under it, discovers a narrow soui. 
 
 The art of living easily as to money, is to pitch your 
 
320 PRODIGALITY. 
 
 scale of living one degree below your means. Comfort 
 and enjoyment are more dependent upon easiness in the 
 detail of expenditure than upon one degree s difference 
 in the scale. 
 
 He that accustoms himself to buy superfluities, may r 
 ere long, be obliged to sell his necessaries. 
 
 Luxurious living is the highway to poverty. 
 
 Confine your expenses or they will confine you. 
 
 PRODIGALITY. 
 
 Covetous men need money least, yet they most affect 
 it ; but prodigals who need it most have the least regard 
 for it. 
 
 He that spares in everything is a niggard ; and he that 
 spares in nothing is profuse ; neither of which can be 
 generous or liberal. 
 
 It is as disagreable for a prodigal to keep an account 
 of his senses, as it is for a sinner to examine his conscience ; 
 the deeper they search,' the worse they find themselves. 
 
 A person who squanders away his fortune in rioting 
 and profuseness, is neither just to himself or others ; for, 
 by a conduct of this kind, his superfluities flow in an 
 irregular channel, and those that are the most unworthy 
 are the greatest sharers in them, who do not fail to censure 
 him when his substance is exhausted. 
 
 The prodigal has as little charity as the miser. His 
 flinty soul is not to be touched with any tenderness, 
 humanity or commisseration ; neither poverty nor distress, 
 innocence nor merit can melt him. That noble Bible 
 truth, that there is more happiness in giving than in re- 
 ceiving, he has never experienced. 
 
 There is more money spent to be laughed at than for 
 any one thing in the world, though the purchasers do not 
 think so. 
 
 Riches lavishly spent breed grief to our heart, sorrow 
 to our friends, and misery to our heirs. 
 
IDLENESS. 321 
 
 " 'Tis the last golden dollar, left shining aione ; 
 
 All its brilliant companions are squandered and gone. 
 
 No coin of its mintage reflects back its hue, 
 
 They went in mint juleps, and this will go too ! 
 
 I'll not keep thee thou lone one too long in suspense, 
 
 Thy brothers were melted and melt thou to pence ! 
 
 I'll ask for no quarter, I'll spend and not spare, 
 
 Till my old tattered pockets hang centless and bare." 
 
 IDLENESS. 
 
 Everything within us and about us shows that it never 
 was intended that man should be idle. One's own health 
 and comfort, and the welfare and happiness of those 
 around us, all require that man should labor. Mind, 
 body, soul all alike suffer and rust out by idleness ; the 
 idler is a source of mental and moral offense to everbody 
 around. He is a nuisance in the world and needs abate- 
 ment for the public good, like any other source of 
 pestilence. 
 
 We have received our earthly existence, not on 
 conditions of our own prescribing, but on conditions 
 prescribed by Him who made us. With respect to the 
 present life, as well as the future one, it is to be expect- 
 ed that the quality of the harvest will be the same as 
 the seed. If we sow the seed of idleness and prodigality, 
 we shall reap the tares of poverty and shame. There is 
 no such thing as abolishing or bending, or evading the 
 axed laws of nature ; whether we like them or not, they 
 will go steadily into eifect. 
 
 Thomas Carlyle has said, somewhere in his voluminous 
 works, that the world has u one monster — the idle man." 
 Who can doubt it ? Young man, are you an idler ? Are 
 you consenting, under some pretext or other, to live on 
 the earnings of others? Do you plead u bad health," 
 while they are feebler than you ? Are you spending 
 your hours in utter idleness, while even your mother and 
 sisters are pricking their fingers with the needle, or 
 skinning them at the wash-tub, to keep you in bread and 
 butter, and hide your lazy carcass with decent clothes ? 
 We have known some young men (?) as mean as this. 
 
322 IDLENESS. 
 
 Arouse yourself, young man ! Shake off the wretched and 
 disgraceful habits of the do-nothing, if you have been so 
 unfortunate as to incur them, and go to work at once ! 
 "But what shall I do?" you perhaps ask. Anything, 
 rather than continue in dependent, and enfeebling, and 
 demoralizing idleness. If you can get nothing else to do, 
 sweep the streets. But you are u ashamed" to do that. 
 If so, your shame has been very slow in manifesting itself, 
 seeing how long you have been acting, on life's great 
 stage, the despicable parts of drone and loafer, without 
 shame ! 
 
 Idler ! Take the foregoing home to yourself. Don't 
 try to persuade yourself that the cap doesn't fit you. 
 Honestly acknowledge its fitness. It will be a great 
 point gained, to become honest with yourself. It will be 
 a step forward — a step towards that justice to others 
 which your present conduct absolutely ignores ! 
 
 If you should see a man digging in a snow drift with 
 the expectation of finding valuable ore, or planting seeds 
 upon the rolling billows, you would say at once that he 
 was beside himself. But in what respect does this man 
 differ from you, while you sow the seeds of idleness and 
 dissipation in your youth, and expect the fruits of age 
 will be a good constitution, elevated affections and holy 
 principles! If you desire a virtuous and happy life in 
 youth you must shape your character by the Word of 
 unerring Wisdom, and plant in your bosom the seeds of 
 virtue. 
 
 The idle man is an annoyance — a nuisance. He is of 
 no benefit to anybody ; he is an intruder in the busy 
 thoroughfare of every -day life ; he is of no advantage ; 
 he annoys busy men, he makes them unhappy. He may 
 have an income to support his idleness, or he may 
 u sponge" on his good-natured friends, but in either case 
 he is despised. Young men do something in this busy, 
 bustling, wide-awake world ! Move about for the benefit 
 of mankind, if not for yourself. Do not be idle. God's 
 law is that by the sweat of our brow we shall earn our 
 bread. 
 
 If idleness does not produce vice or malevolence, it 
 
IDLENESS. 323 
 
 commonly produces melancholy. Let every man be oc- 
 cupied, and occupied in the highest employment of which 
 his nature is capable, and die in the consciousness of 
 having done his best. 
 
 No greater foe to human health and happiness exists 
 than idleness and its accompanying condition of ennui. 
 What is more melancholy to see than idleness in youth, 
 surfeit in the adult, and weariness, disease, and despair 
 in old age. Whatever induces depression is as baneful 
 to existence as the barnacles are to the ship on whose hull 
 they collect. Firmness of will and a cheerful disposition 
 are the two choicest dispositions one can inherit. The 
 force of the will, by giving a high tone to the moral 
 faculties of the soul, strengthens the principle of life, and 
 enables both mind and body to resist all that is pernicious 
 and hurtful to it. Fear or indecision, on the other hand, 
 delivers it up helpless to the enemy. Energy in doing 
 good is still more sustaining than even strength of will 
 devoted to mere selfish ends. Kant used to say that most 
 nervous disorders are due to idleness and mental inertia. 
 Many conditions of debility, discomfort, distress and sick- 
 ness arise, indeed, from mere fretful and cowardly giving 
 way to corporeal sensations. The great French Revolu- 
 tion roused many poor, sickly and languishing persons 
 to health and activity. 
 
 An idle body is a kind of monster in the creation. 
 All nature is busy about him. How wretched it is to 
 hear people complain that the day hangs heavy upon 
 them ; that they do not know what to do with themselves. 
 How monstrous are such expressions among creatures 
 who can apply themselves to the duties of religion and 
 meditation ; to the reading of useful books ; who may 
 exercise themselves to the pursuit of knowledge and 
 virtue, and every hour of their lives make themselves 
 wiser and better than they were before. 
 
 The idle should not be classed among the living ; they 
 are a sort of dead men that can't be buried. 
 
 The proud and haughty who are daily seen strolling 
 up and down the street in idleness, who engage in no 
 useful employment, nor honorable calling, but who live 
 
324 IDLENESS. 
 
 as drones in society, supported by the legacies of their 
 ancestors, are but little aware of their own insignificance 
 and folly, the small esteem and utter contempt enter- 
 tained towards them by the wise and better thinking, 
 and of their own miserable enjoyments and false pleasure, 
 when contrasted with the serene happiness and satisfac- 
 tion of the liberal and open-hearted, who live not only to 
 enjoy themselves, but to benefit their generation, orna- 
 ment the world and honor their Creator. 
 
 Man was never intended to be idle ; inactivity frustrates 
 the very design of his creation ; whereas, an active life is 
 the best guardian of virtue and the greatest preservation 
 of health. 
 
 Pity the man who has nothing to do. 
 
 Idleness is the mother of more misery and crime than 
 all other causes ever thought or di earned of by the pro- 
 foundest thinker, or the wisest theorist. 
 
 Idleness is the nursery of crime. It is that prolific 
 germ of which all rank and poisonous vices are the fruits. 
 It is the source of temptation. It is the field where 
 u the enemy sows tares while m^n sleep." Could we 
 trace the history of a large class of vices we should find 
 that they generally originate from the want of some use 
 ful employment, and are brought in to supply its place 
 
 There are few who know how to be idle and innocent. 
 By doing nothing we learn to do mischief. It is idleness 
 that leads to vice. Idleness is the parent of vice. An 
 idle brain is the devil's workshop. 
 
 The Turks have a proverb that the devil tempts in- 
 dustrious men, but idle men tempt the devil. 
 
 Solon made idleness a crime ; and insisted that each 
 citizen should give an account of the manner of getting 
 his livelihood. 
 
 Epaminondas, Prince of Thebes, had such a hatred to 
 idleness, that upon finding one of his captains asleep in 
 the day time, he slew him. For which act, being re- 
 proved by his nobles, he replied : I left him as I found 
 him ; comparing idle men to dead men. 
 
 When Peisistratus, Tyrant of Athens, and the wisest of 
 Grecian statesmen, was one day "walking through some 
 
IDLENESS. 325 
 
 of his fields, several persons implored his charity. " If 
 you want beasts to plow your land," said he, "I will lend 
 you some ; if you want land, I will give you some ; if you 
 want seed to sow your land, I will give you some ; but I 
 will encourage none in idleness." By this conduct, in a 
 short time, there was not a beggar in his dominions. 
 
 "This we command you, that if any would not work 
 neither should he eat. 2 Thess. iii, 10. 
 
 Bacon says that labor conquers all things, but idleness 
 conquers more people than labor does. 
 
 It is a Chinese maxim that for every man who does not 
 work, and for every woman that is idle, somebody must 
 suffer hunger or cold. 
 
 Not one in twenty of the idle men have trades. This 
 fact alone should teach parents the necessity of giving 
 their sons a trade, which will in a measure make them 
 independent. It seems to be a prevailing idea among 
 our people that their sons should not soil their hands 
 with dirty machinery, but should adopt the life of a clerk 
 or book-keeper, which they deem more fashionable at 
 least, if not more honorable. To learn to keep a set of 
 books is of much importance if the knowledge be applied 
 to his own financial matters, but to depend upon it for a 
 livelihood is very wrong. Our colleges are turning 
 out ten book-keepers to one business man in the city 
 every year, and all these business men have trustworthy, 
 practical accountants, and there will be no vacancy then 
 until some one of them dies or moves out of the city. 
 So that dependance upon this profession is very slim. 
 Better follow the old Turkish law and place your sons in 
 a mill or foundry, where they can secure an independent 
 trade ; a something that they can depend upon when the 
 storm of adversity, which comes to the best of us, bursts 
 upon him and in an instant sweeps his property 
 from him. In an hour like that he can afford to smile, 
 for while he has hands, he has locked away in his brains 
 a mechanical genius which will creep out at the finger 
 nails and earn bread for his little ones, and secure them 
 the comforts of life. The man without a trade can only 
 sit down after the storm is passed and mourn his loss, 
 
326 IDLENESS. 
 
 and unless some kind friend offers him a seat in his 
 office or a place behind his counter, he grows melancholy 
 and dejected, goes down one step after another until he 
 lands in a premature grave. No matter how much wealth 
 you have to offer your sons when your life is done, teach 
 them some handicraft, so that, should adversity come to 
 them, they will not be dependent upon their friends for 
 support. 
 
 It is deceiving one's self to believe that it is only violent 
 passions, like those of love and ambition, which are able 
 to triumph over others. Slothfulness, as languishing as 
 it is, permits none to be its mistress ; it usurps all the de- 
 signs and all the actions of life. It destroys and con- 
 sumes insensibly the passions and the virtues. 
 
 More men grow old from having nothing to do, than 
 from overwork. The running machine will keep bright 
 for years — the idle machine will soon rust out. 
 
 It is easy to be nobody, and we will tell you how to 
 do it. Go to the drinking saloon to spend your leisure 
 time. You need not drink much now ; just a little 
 beer, or some other drink. In the meantime play 
 dominoes, checkers, or something else to kill time, so 
 that you will be sure not to read any useful book. If 
 you read, let it be the dime novels of the day. Thus go 
 on, keeping your stomach full and your head empty, and 
 yourself playing time-killing games, and in a few years 
 you will be nobody, unless (as is quite likely) you should 
 turn out a drunkard or a professional gambler, either of 
 which is worse than a nobody. There are any number of 
 young men hanging about saloons, billiard -rooms and 
 rum-shops just ready to graduate and be nobody. 
 
 Rather do nothing to the purpose than be idle, that 
 the devil may find thee doing. The bird that sits is easily 
 shot, when fliers escape the fowler. Idleness is the dead 
 sea that swallows all virtues, and the self-made sepulchre 
 of a living man. The idle man is the devil's hireling, 
 whose livery is rags, and whose diet and wages are 
 famine and disease. 
 
 If you will be nothing, just wait to be something. 
 That man who waits for an opportunity to do much at 
 
IDLENESS. 327 
 
 once may breathe out his life in idle wishes, and finally 
 regret his useless intentions and barren zeal. A young 
 man idle, an old man needy. 
 
 Idleness travels very leisurely and poverty soon over- 
 takes her. 
 
 Poverty and pride are inconvenient companions; but 
 when idleness unites them, the depth of wretchedness is 
 complete. 
 
 The idle levy a very heavy tax upon the industrious, 
 when by frivolous visitations they rob them of their time. 
 Such persons beg their daily happiness from door to door, 
 as beggars their daily bread, and, like them, sometimes 
 meet with a rebuff. 
 
 An idle man always thinks he has a right to feel af- 
 fronted if a busy man does not devote to him just as 
 much of his time as he has leisure to waste. 
 
 Idleness destroys character; is the parent of future 
 remorse ; the gate of all harms ; a fruitful cause of misery. 
 
 Who does nothing, knows nothing. 
 
 He is idle that might be better employed. 
 
 The idle man is more perplexed what to do, than the 
 industrious in doing what he ought. 
 
 The only people who have a moment to spare are those 
 who are never idle. 
 
 Time never passes so slowly and tediously as to the 
 idle and listless. The best cure for dullness is to keep 
 busy. 
 
 Idleness is like the nightmare — the moment you begin 
 to stir yourself you shake it off. 
 
 Idleness is hard work for those who are not used to it, 
 and dull work for those who are. 
 
 If the spendthrift's poverty be imbittered by remem- 
 bering that he was once rich, how must the idler's ob- 
 scurity be clouded by remembering that he once had 
 lustre. 
 
 To be idle and to be poor have always been re- 
 proaches; and, therefore, every man endeavors with the 
 utmost care to hide his poverty from others, and his idle- 
 ness from himself. 
 
 Only the idler or the coward rails against his fortune. 
 
328 INDOLENCE. 
 
 The mind, like the body, wearies more from the want 
 of action than from excess of it. 
 
 Depend upon it, the most fatal idleness is that of the 
 heart ; and the man who feels weary of life may be sure 
 that he does not love his fellow-creatures as he ought. 
 
 Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her ways, and 
 be wise. 
 
 "Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, 
 Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?" 
 
 -Shak. 
 
 Lose this day loitering, 'twill be the same story 
 To-morrow, and the next more dilatory. 
 The indecision brings its own delays, 
 And days are lost, lamenting o'er lost days. 
 
 INDOLENCE. 
 
 Excellence is providentially placed beyond the reach 
 of indolence that success may be the reward of industry, 
 and that idleness may be punished with obscurity and 
 disgrace. 
 
 Self-complacency begets indolence, a condition alike 
 disastrous to nations and to individuals. Indolence, 
 poverty; poverty, misery. Indolence imparts vice; 
 vice leads to crimes, and crimes to the gallows. 
 
 It is an error to believe that the vehement passions 
 alone, like love or ambition, triumph over the rest. In- 
 dolence, nerveless as it may be, is generally master of 
 every other ; it steals dominion over every action of life, 
 and stealthily paralyses alike all passions and all virtues. 
 
 Indolence leaves the door of the soul unlocked and 
 thieves and robbers go in and spoil it of its treasures. 
 
 Sloth is slow suicide. 
 
 A lazy boy makes a lazy man just as sure as a crooked 
 sappling makes a crooked tree. Think of that, my little 
 lads. Who ever saw a boy grow up in idleness that did 
 not make a lazy, shiftless vagabond when he was old 
 enough to be a man, though he was not a man in char- 
 acter, unless he had a fortune left him to keep up ap- 
 pearance? The great mass of thieves, paupers, and 
 
INDOLENCE. 329 
 
 criminals have come to what they are by being brought 
 up to do nothing useful. All those who are good men 
 now, and useful to the community, were industrious when 
 they were boys. If you do not like to work now, a love 
 for industry can soon be acquired by habit. Look around 
 at <once for something to do, in doing which you can benefit 
 somebody. Shun idleness as you would the evil one. 
 
 Those who make our great and useful men were trained 
 in their boyhood to be industrious. 
 
 Laziness grows on people ; it begins in cobwebs and 
 ends in iron chains. The more business a man has to do 
 the more he is able to accomplish, for he learns to econ- 
 omize his time. " I can't find bread for my family," said 
 a lazy fellow in company. "Nor I," replied an indus- 
 trious miller; "I am obliged to work for it." 
 
 Laziness travels so slow that poverty soon overtakes it. 
 If half the pains were taken by some people to 'perform 
 the labor allotted them that are taken by them to avoid 
 it, we should hear much less said about the troubles of 
 life, and see much more actually completed. 
 
 The Warden of the Massachusetts State Prison says : 
 44 Eight out of every ten come here by liquor, and a 
 great curse is not learning a trade. Young men get the 
 notion that it is not genteel to learn a trade ; they idle 
 away their time, get into saloons, acquire the habit of drink- 
 ing, and then gambling, and then they are ready for any 
 crime." 
 
 It is wonderful what people have been enabled to ac- 
 complish who have labored under the greatest possible 
 disadvantages. A very marked instance occurred in the 
 city of Augsbourg, of a blind man who had acquired a 
 competence, besides supporting a large family, by selling 
 books. He was a man of great enterprise, and, by one 
 means or another, managed to pick up considerable in- 
 formation. His enjoyment of books naturally suggested 
 the idea of dealing in them. His wife was a sensible 
 woman, and quite indispensable to him in his business. 
 His library consisted of eight thousand volumes, and were 
 arranged so carefully that he could instantly turn to any 
 volume called for. When a new lot of books came in, 
 
330 LEISURE. 
 
 his wife read over to him all the particulars respecting 
 them, and, after turning them carefully once in his hands, 
 he was able to fix the price. His memory never fails 
 him in regard to his shop arrangements. His manner is 
 most civil and obliging, and to this, no doubt, he owes 
 a large share of his extensive custom. He is also strictly 
 honest, and very well informed in regard to books. In- 
 telligent reading people delight to converse with him, 
 and one friend is sure to make half a dozen others 
 for him. So much a man may accomplish who was born 
 blind, but who sought diligently to cultivate his mind, 
 heart and manners. Surely no energetic young man 
 with two stout arms and good eyes should be discouraged 
 by a few difficulties in his way, and conclude he can. 
 never get on in the world. 
 
 To be without arms seems more dreadful still. We 
 can hardly imagine a more helpless condition. Yet John 
 Hatter, who was born without arms, can sew with his 
 toes, can write legibly, load and fire off a pistol, and do 
 a great many other wonderful things with the greatest 
 apparent ease. 
 
 A lady who had lost the use of her hands learned to 
 manage a paint brush with her lips, and executed many 
 pretty paintings. 
 
 Such instances should have their lesson for lazy people, 
 who always see u a lion in the way" of their accomplishing 
 anything. They should nerve the working bees in the 
 great hive to still greater exertions, and should rebuke 
 the spirit of sloth, whenever it endeavors to gain mastery 
 over us. 
 
 LEISURE. 
 
 None but a wise man can employ leisure well, and he 
 that makes the best use of his time hath none to spare. 
 
 Leisure is time for doing something useful ; this the 
 diligent man will obtain, but the lazy man never ; so that 
 a life of leisure and a life of laziness are two different 
 
LEISURE. 331 
 
 things. No man who improves his leisure hours in useful 
 reading and study, can fail of becoming distinguished 
 and useful in his profession — while he who spends his 
 time in idleness or self-indulgence, is sure to occupy an 
 inferior position. 
 
 1 It is not every one who thinks how wise he may be- 
 come by learning only a little every day. Four hours a 
 day during six months and two hours a day the balance 
 of the year spent in reading and other means of self- 
 culture, would amount to forty-five days a year. Ten 
 years would be four hundred and fifty days — which 
 would be equal to two good years at college. Is not 
 this worth saving ? Is there not a fortune in this ? So 
 cheap, too ! Money saved by it ! Manhood made by it! 
 Respectability won by it ! Hundreds of young men will 
 refer their future success or failure to the way they spent 
 the evenings and leisure hours of the present winter. 
 Industry is always attended with success and content- 
 ment. Every farmer should provide his boys with plenty 
 of good reading and a well fitted up work shop. 
 
 The young abhor the last results of idleness, but they 
 do not perceive that the first step leads to the last. They 
 are in the opening of this career, but with them it is- 
 genteel leisure, not laziness ; it is relaxation, not sloth ; 
 amusement, not indolence. But leisure, relaxation, and 
 amusement, when you ought to be usefully employed, 
 are indolence. 
 
 Leisure is a very pleasant garment, but it is a very bad 
 one for constant wear. 
 
 Leisure is sweet to those who have earned it, but 
 burdensome to those who get it for nothing. 
 
 Some one has said: "If bread could be procured as 
 easily as water, men would be more likely to become 
 brutes for the want of something to do, than philosophers 
 from the possession of leisure." 
 
 Another writer says: "Whenever you see young 
 men spending their leisure hours at some resort of gaming 
 or some other amusement, it is a sure sign that they will 
 never become great men." 
 
IGNORANCE 
 
 Tt is better to be poor than ignorant. It is dangerous 
 to be ignorant where the masses, as in ©ur country, are 
 enlightened. In a general illumination, the unlighted 
 windows are often pelted and broken. Says Victor 
 Hugo, in Les Miserables, " destroy the cave Ignorance, 
 and you destroy the mole, Crime." 
 
 The truth of this axiom has been constantly demon- 
 strated ever since the construction of this globe. The 
 dark ages have been those when ignorance was more 
 powerful than knowledge. The growth of invention, 
 science and art has yearly added to the world's en- 
 lightenment and deliverance from evil. In this great 
 work of reformation, the Church, the Common School 
 ■and the Printing Press have been the three great agencies 
 which, hand in hand, have dispensed wisdom and 
 virtue. Who would destroy or proscribe these, would, 
 to a corresponding extent, inaugurate crime and degre- 
 ■dation. These assertions need no proof ; they are self- 
 evident facts to the student of human nature and of history. 
 
 Sir Isaac Newton made a confession, which the young 
 might be excused for accepting as the voice of mock 
 modesty, did not the rare truthfulness which history has 
 ascribed to the discoverer of gravitation, forbid such a 
 suspicion. We allude to his declaration, after the con- 
 temporaneous world of science was content to own him 
 as its teacher, that he felt as though he had only gathered 
 a few pebbles on the shore, while the great ocean of 
 knowledge lay outstretched before him! The experi- 
 ence of the New tons of the world, is the experience of 
 all its searchers after knowledge. The young, with 
 the mere " pebbles" which they have gathered from the 
 rivulets of academical text-books and collegiate lectures, 
 walk forth .as self-confidently, not to say as vauntingly, 
 as one would be entitled to do, who had dived to the 
 depths of the very ocean, and brought up its hidden 
 treasures. But the very first contact with the actual 
 
IGNORANCE. 333 
 
 world serves to dissipate the delusions of the ideal. By 
 degrees they come to realize the difficulties before them, 
 and to perceive that no school or college can furnish 
 more than merely the beginning of knowledge. The 
 older they grow, if they continue studying, the more 
 deficient they feel themselves to be. When early man- 
 hood, with its cares, is once upon them, the remembrance 
 of early opportunities neglected will begin to accuse 
 them. A semi-consciousness of how much neglect has 
 cost them, will then steal upon them. The full sense of 
 the utter pebbliness of their knowledge such as haunted 
 the great astronomer, will be reserved for a still later 
 experience. But they will be sure to realize it, sooner 
 or later, in their lives. What a volume of hints, young 
 man, is given to you by the confession of Newton. 
 
 Ignorance and conceit are two of the worst qualities to 
 combat. It is easier to dispute with a statesman than a 
 blockhead. We can perhaps tolerate a man who has 
 just ignorance enough to talk among fools, if he has 
 discretion enough to be silent among men of sense. Yet 
 of all ignorance, that which is silent is the least produc- 
 tive, for praters may suggest an idea, if they cannot 
 start one. It is impossible to make some people under- 
 stand their own ignorance, for it requires knowledge to- 
 perceive it ; therefore, he that can perceive it, hath it 
 not. Some men do wisely to counterfeit reservedness, 
 to keep their chest always locked — not for fear any one 
 should steal treasures thence, but lest some one should 
 look in and see that there is nothing to steal. Ignorant 
 men are always in amaze. Wonder is the effect of ignor- 
 ance. 
 
 Those who know little see little. To the man who 
 cannot read, this page is a blank. In exact proportion 
 as our stock of information increases the sphere of our 
 mental vision is enlarged. Knowledge furnishes eyes to 
 our understanding, and endows them with clearness, 
 precision and magnific power. To the ignorant man the 
 stars are mere specks of light, rather more ornamental ho 
 thinks, perhaps, than his tin lantern, but not half so use- 
 ful as a guide to his footsteps through the night. To 
 
334 IGNORANCE. 
 
 the astronomer they are worlds and congeries of worlds, 
 moving through space in obedience to immutable laws, 
 fulfilling in their shining march purposes at which even his 
 educated intellect can only guess, and, seeing them with 
 the eyes of science, he wonders and adores. Botany, 
 chemistry, every branch of natural philosophy, gives us 
 a deeper, truer insight into the mysteries by which we 
 are surrounded. We cannot even understand our own 
 mechanism without the aid of physical science. It has 
 been said that the more men know, the more profound 
 and general their knowledge — the more they are dis- 
 posed to skepticism in religious matters. The assertion 
 is false. Men of the deepest research are usually the 
 firmest believers in revelation. There are and have been 
 undevout philosophers, but the few exceptions do not 
 militate against the rule. The greatest lights of modern 
 learning and science have been sincere Christians. 
 
 How many young ladies are there who would be 
 mortified to the last degree, if a frill or a collar or other 
 parts of their dress were displaced, but who, on being 
 detected in ignorance, even in the history of their own 
 country, would own it without a blush. 
 
 If thou wilt be cured of thy ignorance confess it. Un- 
 disguised ignorance is vastly more endurable than affected 
 learning. It is sometimes quite enough for a man to 
 feign ignorance of that which he knows, to gain the 
 reputation of knowing that of which he is ignorant. 
 
 Ignorance pays such a tax that we can't imagine how 
 anybody can afford to be such a blockhead. 
 
 Spring commands twice as much wages as his neighbor 
 McCracken. A wide difference, and all caused by 
 Spring's knowing how to read, write and cipher. Thus 
 it will be seen that McCracken's want of knowledge costs 
 him several hundred dollars a year — which shows that 
 ignorance costs him as much as his wife and children, 
 house rent inclusive. 
 
 Ignorance takes to dirt as naturally as it does to ugli- 
 ness. In proof of this, we would mention that a dealer 
 in ashes informed us that the opening of a public school 
 in a ward, increased the sale of soap twentv-five pei 
 
IGNORANCE. 335 
 
 cent. From this it must be seen that the more people 
 read, the more they think ; and the more they think, the 
 more frequently they indulge in wash basins and clean 
 towels. 
 
 Ignorance is a cause, and misery an effect, in all matters, 
 in every phase and condition of life. Ignorance of 
 any of nature's laws impels their non-observance, and the 
 punishment surely follows. If a man puts his finger in 
 the blaze, he will suffer pain from the burn he receives ; 
 and, if he puts a fire-brand in his stomach, whether in 
 the shape of inflammable food or drink, he will suffer for 
 it. And this brings up a view of the temperance ques- 
 tion, that has not received the attention it deserves. 
 People have been so busy lopping off the branches of 
 the tree of intemperance, that they have never once be- 
 thought themselves that the proper way would be to cut 
 off and dig up the roots. The world is too superficial, 
 and superficiality is also born of ignorance. John Stuart 
 Mill, the eminent English scholar, and one of the most 
 advanced thinkers of the age, speaking of the temper- 
 ance question, uses all the- resources of his mind to ex- 
 pose the utter folly of those who would make men 
 virtuous by force and law. The true way, he argues, is 
 to elevate the people to self-denial and moderation by 
 improving their material conditions, and by a wise system 
 of education. It is a well-known fact, that, after all the 
 exertions for temperance that have been made by the 
 various temperance organizations, and by philanthropists 
 and reformers generally, the torrent of intemperance 
 still rushes on with increasing volume, and there are more 
 intoxicating liquors sold and drank in the United States 
 to-day than at any former period. Hence it is evident 
 that there is something radically wrong in our treatment 
 of the evil, which has been and still is nothing but the 
 merest quackery. Public opinion has laid the cause to 
 the dram-shops. It would be more philosophical to say 
 that intemperance— the desire to indulge in intoxicating 
 drink — causes dram-shops to appear, to satisfy that desire, 
 than that the dram-shops cause the intemperance. The 
 principal cause of the desire for intoxicating drinks can 
 
336 IGNORANCE. 
 
 be traced to what may he called the sensational in eat- 
 ing. People are not satisfied with simple and wholesome 
 food, cooked in a rational manner ; but must destroy its 
 simplicity and healthfulness by minor stimulants, which 
 demand greater. This creates what is called a thirst 
 for intoxicating drinks, but which is in no sense a thirst, 
 being rather the cry of the nervous system for its ac- 
 customed stimulant, A gentleman who has visited 
 several inebriate asylums says he has invariably observed 
 that inebriates are large eaters, especially of animal food 
 — that being more stimulating than vegetable food. 
 Beef, too, was preferred to mutton and other kind, as being 
 the most stimulating kind of animal food. And it was usu- 
 ally, before being eaten, covered with mustard sufficient in 
 quantity to blister the heel of the thickest-skinned African 
 in creation if applied thereto. Almost everything that was 
 eaten was made literally black with pepper, so much so that 
 he once suggested to the steward that he should put the 
 pepper on the table in bowls, with tablespoons in them, and 
 let the patients ladle it out in that way ; for it took too long 
 to get the required quantity from the ordinary style of pep- 
 per-box with perforated lid. Coffee and tea of the strongest 
 kind were drank in the .largest quantities. And tobacco 
 was used to excess. Everybody seemed to be smoking; 
 smoking continually. A physician attending the institu- 
 tion said they literally " smoked tons of it." Mr. Parton, 
 in his " Atlantic Monthly" article, " Will the Coming Man 
 Drink Wine ?" asks, " How could we dispose of the 
 enormous amount of food we consume on festive occasions 
 without the aid of some stimulus to digestion ?" As long 
 as people gormandize and gluttonize themselves, their 
 diseased stomachs will crave stimulants. Strong meats 
 and mustard and pepper, with tobacco before dinner and 
 after dinner, the first thing in the morning and the last 
 thing at night, will create a demand for fiery liquors ; and 
 between them all, the poor victim of ignorance is kept in 
 a continual ferment and fever. And, while it may not be 
 true that every one who eats inordinately, and of stimu- 
 lating and highly-seasoned food is a drunkard, it is never- 
 theless true, that, by this manner of living, such a person 
 supplies necessary conditions for becoming a drunkard. 
 
TIMIDITY AND IRRESOLUTION. 337 
 
 And that he does not become one is, perhaps, because of 
 a high moral principle acting in conjunction with a great 
 will-power to restrain his appetite for diffusible stimulants; 
 for "we hold that in such a case his appetite exists. Here 
 is where a temperance movement, to be successful, must 
 be begun. As people outgrow their ignorance, they will 
 live more rationally, eat simpler food, discard all high 
 seasoning, and the victory will soon be won. Temper- 
 ance will become the rule, because there will be no de- 
 mand nor appetite for intoxicating drinks. 
 
 TIMIDITY AND IRRESOLUTION. 
 
 Bashfulness is not a fault ; it is more a nervous affection 
 than anything else. The over-bashful should mix more 
 in society, and cultivate an indifference to outward symp- 
 toms. Too great a distrust of one's self, produces a base 
 fear; while it deprives our minds of their liberty and 
 assurance, it makes our reasoning weak, our words tremb- 
 ling, and our actions faint. By fearing to attempt some- 
 thing, we will do nothing. A man is seldom suc- 
 cessful that is diffident of himself. A timid man can 
 never become great ; if he possesses talent, he cannot apply 
 it ; he is trampled upon by the envious and awed by the 
 swaggering, he is thrust from the direct path which leads 
 to honor and fame, by every aspirant who possesses more 
 spirit than himself. A great deal of talent is lost to the 
 world for the want of a little courage. Every day sends 
 to the grave a number of obscure men who have only 
 remained in obscurity because their timidity has pre- 
 vented them making the first effort — and who, if they 
 could have been induced to begin, would, in all proba- 
 bility, have gone great lengths in the career of fame. The 
 fact is, in order to do anything in this world that is 
 worth doing, we must not stand shivering on the brink 
 and think of the cold and danger, but jump in and 
 scramble as we can. It will not do to be perpetually 
 calculating risks and adjusting nice chances. There is 
 22 
 
TIMIDITY AND IRRESOLUTION. 
 
 such little time for over-squeamishness at present, the 
 opportunity so easily slips away, the very period of his 
 life, at which man chooses to venture, if ever, is so con- 
 fined, that it is no bad rule to preach up the necessity in 
 such instances, of little violence done to feelings, and of 
 efforts made in defiance of strict and sober calculation. 
 Whatever your hands find to do, do it with all your 
 might. 
 
 Never allow yourself to pass for a mere man of silk. 
 Let the world know you have some iron in you. It is 
 the inherent vice of half-way men, as it is of half-way 
 measures, that they create as many difficulties as they 
 remove. The cowardly and inactive lie in the ditch 
 where they fall, or under the ruins that crush them. 
 But the hopeful and energetic are upon their feet again, 
 moving once more toward the goal of success, and more 
 cautiously than before. 
 
 The "I cant's," says Hunt, in his "Morals for Mer- 
 chants," are numerous and ubiquitous. You may know 
 them everywhere, in the legislative halls, on the battle- 
 field, in the council-chamber, at the bar, in the counting- 
 house, in the studio, at the bench, or in the furrow, for 
 they are spawned everywhere; and among all classes of 
 individuals — merchants or mechanics, you know "I 
 can't" — as well by what he does, as by what he will not 
 try to do ; and a miserable, mumbling, mealy-mouthed, 
 mountain raising and mole-hill moving mummy of a man, 
 will you find him in any of these pursuits. He is always 
 for delay. "He hasn't time, or he hasn't tools ; he lacks 
 means, or he must have more help;" you "had better 
 wait;" or he knows "it is impossible ;" anything rather 
 than do it " I'll try," never comes into his head, while 
 to say " I can't," is the easiest, as well as the meanest 
 method of accomplishing his desires. It may be safely 
 assumed that neither Alfred nor Arkwright, Milton nor 
 Maury, Washington nor Whitney, Girard nor Astor, nor 
 any other among the glorious galaxy of determinate, in- 
 dustrial stars, ever yet recognized the canting use to 
 which the phrase is put by such as we describe. 
 
 How many occasions for doing good, in greater or less 
 
DISCONTENT. 339 
 
 measures, are passed by from irresolution ! While we 
 are saying to ourselves, shall I, or shall I not ? the moment 
 flies away, and the blossom of joy which we might have 
 given to it is withered and often cannot be revived by 
 any tears of repentance. The irresolute man cannot per- 
 form any action well. 
 
 In matters of great concern, and which must be done, 
 there is no surer argument of a weak mind than irresolu- 
 tion, — to be undetermined where the case is so plain, and 
 the necessity so urgent ; to be always intending to lead a 
 life, but never to find a time to set about it. 
 
 DISCONTENT. 
 
 Some people are never contented with their lot, let 
 what will happen. Clouds and darkness are over their 
 beads, alike whether it rain or shine. To them every 
 incident is an accident, a calamity. Even when they 
 have their own way, they like it no better than your way, 
 and, indeed, consider their most voluntary acts as matters 
 of compulsion. We saw a striking illustration the other 
 day of the infirmity we are speaking of, in the conduct 
 of a child about three years old. He was crying because 
 his mother had shut the parlor door. "Poor thing," said 
 a neighbor compassionately, " you have shut the child 
 out" "It's all the same to him," replied the mother, 
 u he would cry if I called -him in and then shut the door. 
 It's a peculiarity of that boy, if he is left rather suddenly 
 on either side of a door, he considers himself shut out, 
 and rebels accordingly." There are older children who 
 take the same view of things. 
 
 Every man thinks his neighbor is happier than he is, 
 but if he would change places with him he will want to 
 trade back next morning. 
 
 Nearly every one we meet wishes to be what he is not. 
 The boy apes the man ; the man affects the ways of boy- 
 hood. The sailor envies the landsman ; the landsman 
 goes to sea for pleasure. The busines man who has to 
 
340 DISCONTENT 
 
 be continually traveling about to buy or sell goods 
 wishes for the day when he can " settle down," whilst 
 the sedentary man is always wanting a chance to flit 
 about and to travel, which he thinks would be his great- 
 est pleasure. Town people think the country glorious; 
 country folks are always wanting to come to town. No 
 one is satisfied, no one is always contented ; and if we can 
 pry into the secrets of those who preach the loudest about 
 contentment, we will wonder at the amount of discontent 
 that reigns in their bosoms. 
 
 How universal it is ! We never yet saw the man who 
 would say, "I am contented." Go where you will, 
 among the rich or the poor, the man of competence or the 
 man who earns his bread by the sweat of his brow, you 
 hear the sound of muttering, the voice of complaint. 
 
 The other day we stood by a cooper who was playing 
 a merry tune with his adze round a case. "Ah! said 
 he, " mine is a hard lot ; forever trotting like a dog, 
 driving a hoop." 
 
 "Heigho!" sighed the blacksmith, on a hot summer 
 day as he wiped the persperation from his brow, while 
 the red hot iron glowed on the anvil, " This is life with a 
 vengeance, melting and frying one's self over a fire." 
 
 u Oh, that I was a carpenter!" ejaculated a shoemaker, 
 as he bent over his lap-stone. "Here I am, day after 
 day, wearing my soul away making soles for others, 
 cooped up in this seven-by-nine room, — hi, ho, hum!" 
 
 "I'm sick of this out-door work!" exclaimed the car- 
 penter, "Boiling under the sweltering sun, or exposed 
 to the inclemency of the weather, — I wish I was a tailor." 
 
 "This is too bad!" perpetually cries the tailor, "to be 
 compelled to sit perched up here plying the needle all 
 the time. Would that mine were a more active life." 
 
 "Last day of grace — banks won't discount, customers 
 won't pay ; what shall I do ?" grumbled the merchant. 
 "I had rather be a truck-horse, a dog, or anything else." 
 
 "Happy fellows!" groans the lawyer, as he scratches 
 his head over some dry musty record; "happy fellows! 
 I'd rather hammer stone all day than puzzle my head on 
 this tedious, vexatious question." 
 
DISCONTENT. 341 
 
 And through all the ramifications of society all are 
 complaining of their condition, finding fault with their 
 particular calling. "If it were only this, or that, or the 
 other, I should be content," is the universal cry — "any- 
 thing but what I am." So wags the world, so has it 
 wagged, and so will it wag. 
 
 A fable has been told about an Egyptian who had a 
 nice little garden of leeks ; but he was discontented at 
 having to toil for his daily bread. His good genius came 
 to his aid, and made him owner of a villa, with two slaves 
 to wait on him. 
 
 He was delighted with the gift, and promised to crave 
 nothing more. It was not long before he coveted the 
 neighboring garden, with its statues and fountains. The 
 garden was given him, and then he took a fancy to the 
 meadow beyond. The meadow was granted him, and 
 then he wanted the park on the further side of it. The 
 park was bestowed on him, and then, like Ahab, he 
 wanted to rob a poor man of his little vineyard! Open 
 the door to one discontented wish, and you don't know 
 how many will follow. 
 
 The discontented man finds no easy chair. 
 
 There is no one so liable to be angry with others as 
 he who is ill at ease with himself. 
 
 The chief source of human discontent is to be looked 
 for, not in real, but in our fictitious wants ; not in the 
 demands of nature, but in the artificial craving of desire. 
 
 To be discontented, sit by a window and look over 
 the way to your neighbor's excellent mansion, which he 
 has recently built and paid for, and fitted out. " Oh, 
 that I were a rich man." Get angry with your neighbor, 
 and think you have not a friend in the world. Shed a 
 tear or two, and take a walk in the burial ground, con- 
 tinually saying to yourself: "When shall I be buried 
 here?" Sign a note for a friend, and never forget your 
 kindness, and every hour in the day whisper to yourself: 
 " I wonder if he will ever pay that note?" Think every- 
 body means to cheat you. Closely examine every bill 
 you take, and doubt its being genuine until you have put 
 your neighbor to a great deal of trouble. Put confi- 
 
342 DISCONTENT. 
 
 dence in nobody, believe every man you trade with to be a 
 rogue. Never accommodate if you can possibly help it. 
 Never visit the sick or afflicted, and never give a cent to 
 assist the poor. Buy as cheap as you can, and screw 
 down to the lowest mill. Grind the faces and the hearts 
 of the unfortunate. Brood over your misfortunes, your 
 lack of talents, and believe that at no distant day you 
 will come to want. Let the workhouse be ev^er in your 
 mind, with all the horrors of distress and poverty. Fol- 
 low these recipes strictly, and you will be miserable to 
 your heart's content — if we may so speak — sick at heart, 
 and at variance with the world. Nothing will cheer or 
 encourage you, nothing will throw a gleam of sunshine 
 or ray of warmth into your heart. 
 
 Discontent is a sin that is its own punishment, and 
 makes men torment themselves. " 
 
 A gentleman of vast inherited property, being rather 
 too well off to be contented, began to build factories 
 on a great scale. Whereupon a friend remarked, u Ah! 
 he is fast turning his dollars into mills." The event 
 speedily proved that there was as much truth as wit in 
 the remark. That there is much restlessness among the 
 children of men will not be questioned by any individual. 
 But does not this, in every instance, arise from distrust of 
 God ? Distrust begets fears, complaining and rebellion. 
 Were your heart such as to lead you to cast all your cares 
 upon God, how wonderful would be the relief? What 
 heavenly calmness would possess your mind? .How 
 sweet would be your composure, how refreshing your 
 rest ? Urge yourself onward then to this duty. Bring 
 your spirits to this fountain. Here drink, and be satisfied. 
 It is like rivers of water in a dry place, as the shadow of 
 a great rock in a weary land. " Who is among you that 
 feareth the Lord, and obeyeth the voice of his servant, 
 that walketh in darkness, and hath no l:ght? let him 
 trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God." 
 This is the remedy for all disquietude, for every species 
 of murmuring. These healing waters will remove every 
 ruffling surge from the mind, and refresh the soul with 
 joys unutterable and full of glory. 
 
DIFFICULTIES AND DISCOURAGEMENTS. 
 
 Difficulty of achievement stupefies the sluggard, ad- 
 vises the prudent, terrifies the fearful, and animates the 
 courageous. The greater the difficulty, the more glory 
 in surmounting it. Skilful pilots gain their reputation 
 from storms and tempests. Be determined that no trial 
 shaH overcome your patience, and no impediment con- 
 quer your perseverence. The deeper the well, the cooler 
 the water. The stoutest timber stands on Norwegian 
 rocks, where tempests rage, and long, hard winters reign. 
 The muscles are seen most fully developed in the brawny 
 arm that plies the blacksmith's hammer. The Magic, of 
 Bristol, R I., a boat which beat everything easily at the 
 Bridgeport regatta, in 1864, was built, owned and sailed 
 by a blind man. It is difficulties which give birth to 
 miracles. It is not every calamity that is a curse, and 
 early adversity is often a blessing. Perhaps Madame de 
 Maintenon would never have mounted a throne had not 
 her cradle been rocked in a prison. Surmounted obsta- 
 cles not only teach but hearten us in our future struggles, 
 for virtue must be learned, though, unfortunately, some 
 of the vices come as if by inspiration. The austerities 
 of our northern climate, says Sharp e in his Essays, are 
 thought to be the cause of our abundant comforts, as our 
 wintry nights and stormy seas have given us a race of 
 seamen perhaps unequalled in the world. 
 
 As before swift ships there swims a hill of water, and a 
 corresponding billowy abyss glides along close behind, 
 so always before us is there a mountain, which we hope 
 to climb, and behind us still a deep valley out of which 
 we seem to have ascended. It seems to be the inevitable 
 experience of all important projects, that their incipient 
 steps should be surrounded with difficulties and retarded 
 by opposition. 
 
 Nature is a faultless teacher, and she opposes all her 
 children into the perfection of their being! The little 
 bird comes out from the nest ; it does not understand the 
 
344 DIFFICULTIES AND DISCOURAGEMENTS. 
 
 doctrine of balancing ; it clings convulsively with its 
 little feet to the swinging spray. But, for all that, Na- 
 ture does not hold it gently in her hand, for she tosses 
 the branch bravely this way and that. The bird does not 
 fall — it only flutters, and, swayed into the doctrine of 
 balancing, the next one sees of it, it is sitting and singing 
 upon the topmost billows of the green pine. 
 
 Nothing is really troublesome that we do willingly. 
 Nobody knows what strength of parts he has till he has 
 tried them. And of the understanding one may most 
 truly say, that its force is greater generally than it thinks 
 till it is put to it. A persuasion that we shall overcome 
 any difficulties that we may meet with in the sciences, 
 says Locke, seldom fails to carry us through them. No- 
 body knows the strength of his mind, and the force of 
 steady and regular application till he has tried. This is 
 certain; he that sets out upon weak legs will not only 
 go farther, but grow stronger, too, than one who, with 
 a vigorous constitution and firm limb, only sits still. 
 
 Dr. Bushnell wisely says, "Never complain of your 
 birth, your employment, your hardships ; never fancy 
 that you could be something if you only had a different 
 lot and sphere assigned you. God understands his own 
 plan, and he knows what you want a great deal better 
 than you do. The very things you most deprecate as 
 fatal limitations or obstructions, are probably what you 
 most want. What you call hindrances, obstacles, discour- 
 agements, are probably God's opportunities; and it is 
 nothing new that the patient should dislike his medicines, 
 or any certain proofs that they are poisons. No ! A truce 
 to all such impatience. Choke that envy which gnaws 
 at your heart, because you are not in the same lot with 
 others ; bring down your soul, or rather bring it up to re- 
 ceive God's will, and to his work, in your lot and sphere, 
 under your cloud of obscurity, against your temptations, 
 and then you shall find that your condition is never op- 
 posed to your good, but consistent with it." 
 
 Almost all the first works of what are called popular 
 authors, ran the gauntlet of ungentle rejections before a 
 publisher was found to accept the manuscript. Uncle 
 
DIFFICULTIES AND DISCOURAGEMENTS. 345 
 
 Tom's Cabin was refused by a well-known publishing 
 house in Boston, but the same house subsequently made 
 the amende honorable by a liberal engagement for another 
 book. Charlotte Bronte knew the bitterness of rejection 
 from publishers. Robinson Crusoe was ungently passed 
 along from one house to another till De Foe was fain 
 to take up with a publisher who brought out the book as 
 a mere venture of curiosity. Beresford's Miseries of 
 Human Life, which realized more than five thousand 
 pounds by its publication, was rejected by a bookseller 
 to whom he offered it for twenty. Andrew Millar, who 
 brought out Johnson's Dictionary, sent the author the 
 following letter with the acknowledgement of the receipt 
 of the last sheet of the manuscript : " Andrew Millar 
 sends his compliments to Mr. Samuel Johnson with the 
 money for the last sheet of the copy of the Dictionary, and 
 thanks God he has done with him." The publisher received 
 this reply: " Samuel Johnson returns his compliments to 
 Mr. Andrew Millar, and is very glad to find, as he does 
 by his note, that Andrew Millar has the grace to thank 
 God for anything." 
 
 Alexander Dumas, Sr., says he commenced life amidst 
 a number of discouraging failures. The girl with whom 
 he had fallen in love never found it out until she had 
 married another man. The first literary article which 
 he carried to the editor of a journal was rejected in 
 almost scornful terms. The first novel which he wrote 
 was burned up at a conflagration. The first servant 
 whom he engaged robbed him of nearly every sou. The 
 first publisher whom he found failed before he had settled 
 with him. The first play of his which was performed 
 was hissed. The first criticism which he read about 
 something he had written was full of virulent 
 abuse. The first dramatic success he met with was 
 dimmed by the insolence with which the manager, in his 
 presence, attributed the triumph that had been achieved, 
 not to the play, but to the skill of the actors. The first 
 house he bought had a bad title and involved him in a 
 lawsuit. The first journal he started was ruined by the 
 malicrous intrigues of a hostile coterie. 
 
346 DIFFICULTIES AND DISCOURAGEMENTS. 
 
 Carrissimi, a famous composer of music, being praised 
 for the ease and grace of his melodies, exclaimed ! u Ah ! 
 with what difficulty is this ease acquired!" 
 
 Because you find a thing very difficult, do not presently 
 conclude that no man can master it ; but whatever you 
 observe proper and practical by another, believe likewise 
 in your own power. 
 
 u It is impossible!" said some, when Peter the Great 
 determined on a voyage of discovery ; and the cold and 
 uninhabited region over which he reigned furnished noth- 
 ing but some larch trees to construct his vessel. But, 
 though the iron, the cordage, the sails, and all that was 
 necessary, except the provisions for victualing them, 
 were to be carried through the immense desert of Siberia, 
 down rivers of difficult navigation, and along roads 
 almost impassible, the thing was done ; for the command 
 of the sovereign, and perseverance of the people, sur- 
 mounted every obstacle. 
 
 "It is impossible /" said some, as soon as they heard 
 the scheme of Oberlin's. To rescue his parishioners from 
 a half starved state, he determined to open a communi- 
 tion with the high road to Strasburg, so that the pro 
 ductions of the Ben de la Roche might find a market. 
 Having assembled the people, he proposed that they 
 should blast the rocks, and convey a sufficient quantity 
 of enormous masses to construct a wall from a road about 
 a mile and half in length, along the bank of the River 
 Bruche, and build a bridge across it. 
 
 The peasants were astonished at this proposition, and 
 pronounced it impracticable ; and every one excused him- 
 self on the grounds of private business. He, however, 
 reasoned with them and added the offer of his own 
 example. No sooner had he pronounced the words, than 
 with a pick axe on his shoulder he proceeded to the 
 spot, while the astonished peasants, animated by his ex- 
 ample, forgot their excuses, and hastened with one con- 
 sent to fetch their tools to follow him. At length every 
 obstacle was surmounted ; walls were erected to support 
 the earth, which appeared ready to give way ; mountain 
 torrents, which had hitherto inundated the meadows, 
 
DIFFICULTIES AND DISCOURAGEMENTS. 347 
 
 were divided into courses, or received into beds sufficient 
 to contain them, and the thing was done. The bridge 
 still bears the name of the " Bridge of Charity." 
 
 " It is impossible /" said some, as they looked at the 
 impenetrable forest which covered the rugged flanks and 
 deep gorges of Mount Pilatus in Switzerland, and hark- 
 ened to the darling plan of a man named Rapp, to convey 
 the pines from the top of the mountain to the lake of 
 Lucerne, a distance of near nine miles. Without being 
 discouraged by their exclamations, he formed a slide or 
 trough of twenty-four thousand pine trees, six feet broad 
 and from three to six feet deep, and the slide, which was 
 completed in 1812, and called the Slide of Alpnach, was 
 kept moist. Its length was forty-four thousand English 
 feet. It had to be conducted over rocks, or along their 
 sides, or under ground or over deep places, where it was 
 sustained by scaffoldings ; and yet skill and perseverance 
 overcame every obstacle, and this was done. The trees 
 slid down from the mountain into the lake with wonder- 
 ful rapidity. The large pines, which were about a 
 hundred feet long, ran through the space of eight miles 
 and a third in about six minutes. 
 
 A gentleman who saw this great work, says that " such 
 was the speed with which a tree of the largest size 
 passed any given point, that he could only hit it once 
 with a stick as it rushed by, however quickly he at- 
 tempted to repeat the blow. 
 
 Say not hastily, then, " It is impossible." It may be 
 so to do a thing in an hour, or a day, or a week, by 
 thoughtlessness and indolence ; but to act with wisdom, 
 energy and perseverance, is to insure success. " Time 
 and patience," says a Spanish author, "make the mul- 
 berry leaf satin!" and another remarks, that u care and 
 industry do everything." 
 
 We forget, and perhaps it is best not to remember, 
 who it was that proposed to build a railway bridge 
 across the Atlantic Ocean, by constructing a series of 
 artificial islands as piers, but we are reminded of the 
 scheme by the announcement that French engineers 
 suggest the construction of a railway from Paris to 
 
348 DIFFICULTIES AND DISCOURAGEMENTS. 
 
 Pekin. To do this would be necessary to bridge the 
 Hellespont, and do some tunneling under the Himalayas 
 and other mountain ranges, in comparison with which the 
 Mt. Cenis tunnel would be but a small affair. Yet there 
 are those who confidently believe all this can and will be 
 done, and perhaps they are right. At any rate it is never 
 safe to pronounce anything impossible which does not 
 require for its accomplishment the setting aside of the 
 laws of nature. Engineers say they never met any 
 difficulty half so hard to overcome as the incredulity of 
 the world. 
 
 A certain amount of opposition is a great help to a 
 man. Kites rise against the wind, and not with the 
 wind ; even a head wind is better than none. No man 
 ever worked his passage anywhere in a dead calm. Let 
 no man wax pale, therefore, because of opposition ; 
 opposition is what he wants and must have, to be good 
 for anything. 
 
 Hardship is the native soil of manhood and self-reli- 
 ance. He that cannot abide the storm without flinching 
 or quailing, strips himself in the sunshine, and lies down 
 by the wayside to be overlooked and forgotten. He 
 who but braces himself to the struggle when the 
 wind blows, gives up when they have done, and falls 
 asleep in the stillness that follows. 
 
 A man may avoid opposition, and strive to pass around 
 difficulties, in the vain hope of accomplishing the ends 
 of life without experiencing the jostle and clash of strife. 
 But how is it with the flint and the steel? The former 
 can be held in the hand for an age, and the sparks lie as 
 dormant as though the fingers pressed but a lump of 
 clay ; but smite flint with the opposing clicks of steel 
 and the hand is enveloped in a shower of fire ! 
 
 Difficulty is a severe instructor, set over us by the 
 supreme ordinance of a parental Guardian and Legis- 
 lator who knows us better than we know ourselves, 
 and loves us better too. He that wrestles with us 
 strengthens our nerves, and sharpens our skill. Our 
 antagonist is our helper. This amicable conflict with 
 difficulty obliges us to an intimate acquaintance 
 
DIFFICULTIES AND DISCOURAGEMENTS. 349 
 
 with our object, and compels us to consider it in all its 
 relations. It will not suffer us to be superficial. 
 
 Difficulty is a harsh instructor, but a thorough one. 
 Nearly all the eminent personages in the world's history 
 have attended her school. Difficulty excites the mind 
 to the dignity which sustains and finally conquers mis- 
 fortunes, and the ordeal ^refines while it chastens. 
 
 Were it not for the scorching drought, we would not 
 appreciate the refreshing shower. With less conflict, we 
 would have less victories ; with less trial, less joy. There 
 is nothing worth having that is not difficult ; my life, and 
 I suppose the life of every man who has worked with 
 hand or head, has been one long contest with difficulties, 
 and none of us would be the men we are now if we had 
 allowed difficulties to conquer us. 
 
 Neither men nor women become what they were in- 
 tended to be by carpeting their progress with velvet ; 
 real strength is tested by difficulties. If any man pos- 
 sessed every qualification for success in life, it is prob- 
 able he would remain quite stationary. The conscious- 
 ness of his powers would tempt him to omit opportuni- 
 ties. Those who do succeed ordinarily owe their success 
 to some disadvantage under which they labor. It is the 
 struggle against difficulty that brings faculties into play. 
 
 There is a way out of all difficulty if you stoop low 
 enough. 
 
 A great deal of trouble is caused by the habit of look- 
 ing at things u wrong end foremost." u How disconso- 
 late you look!" said a bucket to his fellow-bucket, as 
 they were going to the well. u Ah!" replied the other, 
 " I was reflecting on the uselessness of being filled ; for, 
 let us go away ever so full, we always come back empty." 
 "There now! how strange to look at it in that way!" 
 said the first bucket. "Now, 1 enjoy the thought that, 
 however empty we come, we always go away full. Only 
 look at it in that light, and you'll be as cheerful as 
 I am." 
 
 The saint seeks not to do great things ; for that reason 
 he can accomplish great things. He who thinks many 
 things easy is sure to encounter numerous difficulties.. 
 
350 DIFFICULTIES AND DISCOURAGEMENTS. 
 
 Hence it happens that the saint who estimates everything 
 difficult, encounters no difficulty to the end of his life. 
 
 The darkest and most embarrassing trials are some- 
 times the only means by which men can be brought to 
 give up their own self-dependence, and trust in the Lord 
 with all their hearts. 
 
 Trials are of three-fold benefiUto true religion. Hereby 
 the truth of it is manifested ; also its beauty and amiable- 
 ness ; and thus, too, it is purified and increased. 
 
 0, how sweet is a harbor after a long storm, and a 
 sunshiny day after a long, dark, tempestuous night, and 
 a warm spring after a sharp winter! The miseries and 
 the difficulties that a man meets with in this world, will 
 exceedingly sweeten the glory of the other world. 
 
 Prudence, as well as courage, is necessary to overcome 
 obstacles. 
 
 Better by far not start for an object, if its pursuit is to be 
 abandoned at the first difficulty. 
 
 Difficulties to be surmounted must be met with energy. 
 
 The wise and active conquer difficulties by daring to 
 attempt them. 
 
 It would require but a moment's reflection, were any 
 incredulous, to satisfy all that in the attainment of an 
 enviable eminence, obstacles have proved no hindrance, 
 but rather motives to encourage unwearied exertion, and 
 awake the mind to greater energy and bolder undertak- 
 ings. Does the beacon on science hill lure one to 
 attempt its climbing, the rough impediments, rugged 
 obstacles detain him not. He pushes on, each obstacle 
 surmounted furnishing tried armor to attack the next, and 
 clear the way for those that follow. Difficulties are re- 
 quisite to bring to light the hidden might of man's nature, 
 and establish his power to accomplish. The ingenuity, 
 energy and perseverence with which obstacles are met 
 and conquered, by those toiling in the public arena, 
 writes men great on the historic page. Says one, self- 
 knowledge is wisdom, and no man can be truly ac- 
 quainted with himself till his will to overcome and 
 strength to endure are known. Difficulties, obstacles and 
 trials are teachers, often harsh and severe, in whose schools 
 
DIFFICULTIES AND DISCOURAGEMENTS. 351 
 
 these lessons are taught. Endurance, energy and perse- 
 verance are important qualifications of character, insur- 
 ing a worthy distinction to their possessors, and nowhere 
 so thoroughly learned as in the guidance of these in- 
 structors. 
 
 Look around you upon the distinguished men that in 
 every department of life guide and control the times, and 
 what was their origin and early fortunes. Were they, 
 as a general rule, rocked and dandled in the lap of wealth? 
 No. Such men emerge from the homes of decent com- 
 petence or struggling poverty. Necessity sharpens theii 
 faculties, and privations and sacrifices brace their moral 
 nature. They learn the great art of renunciation, and 
 enjoy the happiness of a few wants. They know noth- 
 ing of indifference or satiety. There is not an idle fibre 
 in their frames. They put the vigor of resolute purpose 
 into every act. The edge of their mind is always kept 
 sharp. In the shocks of life, men like these meet the 
 softly nurtured darlings of prosperity as the vessel of 
 iron meets the vessel of porcelain. Lift your hearts 
 above the region of wild hopes and cowardly fears. 
 Put on that even temper of mind which shall be a shadow 
 in success and a light in adversity. If wealth and dis- 
 tinction come, receive them in a thankful and moderate 
 spirit. If they do not come, fill their places with better 
 guests. Remember that all which truly exalts and en- 
 nobles a man is bound to him by ties as indissoluble as 
 those which link the planets to the sun. Plant your- 
 selves upon God's immutable laws, and fortune and 
 failure will be nothing more than vapors that curl and 
 ^Iciy i'ar beneath your feet. 
 
 Many of the illustrious men whose names blazon the 
 page of history, were the sons of women early left widows. 
 Julius Caesar lost his father at the age of fifteen. This, 
 De Quincey says, was a decided advantage to him, as it 
 " prematurely developed the masculine features of his 
 character, forcing him while yet a boy under the dis- 
 cipline of civil conflict and the yoke of practical life 
 without which even Ms energies would have been in- 
 sufficient to sustain them." When Napoleon was sixteen 
 
352 DIFFICULTIES AND DISCOURAGEMENTS. 
 
 his mother became a widow. Left with scanty means 
 for the support and education of her eight children, she 
 devoted all her energies to the rearing of her family r 
 with what marvelous success the whole world knows. 
 The brightest character in the annals of our country, or 
 of any country, was at the age of eleven left fatherless. 
 But his mother was eminently* qualified, both by nature 
 and religion, to train her children in ways of highest 
 virtue. She united to a strong mind and sound judg- 
 ment great simplicity of manners, honesty, energy and 
 truthfulness, and took unwearied pains to cultivate in her 
 children the same noble qualities. In literature there 
 are few names more brilliant than those of Sir William 
 Jones and Sir James Mackintosh. These were the sons 
 of widows who devoted their lives to the education of 
 their children. An acute observer for fifty years of the 
 rise and growth of prominent men, in one of our princi- 
 pal cities, was remarking in our hearing the eminent 
 success that the widows of her acquaintance had had in 
 rearing their sons. One reason of it no doubt springs 
 from the nature of things. A fatherless boy, with a 
 noble mother at once to protect and lean upon him, is 
 stimulated by every motive that can appeal to a fine 
 nature. He is urged to supply the place of husband and 
 son, to represent worthily the family dignity, and realize 
 all the aspirations of his fond parent, and his own ardent 
 soul. High position and substantial achievement he 
 must win for himself. A conscientious and ambitious 
 mother cannot have stronger incentives to do all that 
 can be done in the formation of noble character than she 
 who feels responsible for the entire education and success 
 of her children. Of many a timid, retiring, dependent, 
 self-depreciating woman, widowhood has made a heroine. 
 The great world may never hear of her triumphs, but 
 they are treasured in the hearts of her family ; they are 
 all recorded in the book. He who speaks in Sacred 
 Writ again and again declares himself to be the Father 
 of the fatherless and husband of the widow. 
 
DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 The great secret of avoiding disappointment is not to 
 expect too much. Despair follows immoderate hope, as 
 things fall hardest to the ground that have been nearest 
 to the sky. 
 
 I once sat on a porch at twilight with a little boy in 
 my lap. His bright, plump face glowed with a coaxing 
 admiration as he turned it upward, saying: "Moon and 
 star come down to me." After an expectant delay he 
 seemed to remember that please was a powerful word for 
 procuring pleasures in his happy circle. Feeling sure of 
 success this time, each tiny hand was extended, with 
 palms upward, ready to receive the gifts when they de- 
 scended, as he said: "Moon and star, please do come to 
 me." Finding that even please did not bring down the 
 desired treasures, he gently laid his hands in his lap, and 
 with a soft sigh of resignation, said: "Moon and star too 
 high foi me! " but still with radiant face he gazed admir- 
 ingly. I then thought terror and trouble would come 
 to us if, in maturer years, we had our own way at all 
 times, just as in mercy, moon and stars were held in their 
 course despite childish pleadings. So, when our hopes 
 are deferred, or plans fail, we may by a contemplation 
 of Nature's quiet grandeur grow cool and content, say- 
 ing : " All this which we asked was too high for us." 
 
 Reverses will come, for such is the order of life ; they 
 approach unheralded and unbidden, like a summer cloud. 
 Life is full of enigmas; many of its events seem anoma- 
 lous. Disappointments must often arise, our plans be dis- 
 arranged, our brightest prospects blighted. Human in- 
 genuity cannot conjecture what the future will be ; we 
 have simply to await its developments and abide its 
 issues — trusting in Him who is " too wise to err, too 
 good to be unkind." 
 
 The best of people will now and then meet with dis- 
 appointments, for they are inherited by mortality. It is, 
 however, the better philosophy to take things calmly and 
 
 353 
 28 
 
354 DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 endeavor to be content with our lot. We may a\ U 
 add some rays of sunshine to our path, if we earnestly 
 endeavor to dispel the clouds of discontent thai may 
 arise in our bosoms. And by so doing, we the more fully 
 enjoy the bountiful blessing that God gives to his humblest 
 creatures. 
 
 It is far more noble to improve each hour in cultivat- 
 ing the mind, and attuning it to the glory of the Creator. 
 For this end it matters not so much whether we spend 
 our time in study or toil ; the thoughts of the mind should 
 go out and reach after the higher good. In this manner 
 we may improve ourselves, till our thoughts come to be 
 sweet companions that shall lead us along the path of 
 virtue. Thus we may grow better within, whilst the 
 cares of life, the crosses and losses and disappointments 
 lose their sharp thorns, and the journey of life be made 
 comparatively pleasant and happy. 
 
 A little child, with bright, sunny, golden curls, sat in 
 the shadow of a large oak tree on a summer's afternoon, 
 and watched with childish earnestness the flickering sun- 
 light through the leaves as it danced upon the ground 
 beneath. Now attempting to imprison with its tiny 
 palm one ray of sunlight, now clapping his hands in 
 childish merriment at the fantastic forms it assumed. It 
 is the game of life, we see, clutching at the sunlight, and 
 realizing at last an empty shadow. The mother smiles 
 at the infantile amusement, or perhaps catches her dar- 
 ling to her bosom, and dreams of the time when ha shall 
 attain to manhood. The mother sees naught ahead but 
 the clear sky of manhood's prosperity. Well it is for us 
 that the future is veiled to our eyes, else we would weary 
 of the trials and allurements that make up the sum of 
 our existence. The child looks forward to manhood ; 
 his dreams, are speculative ; the man looks backward to 
 childhood, and sings the sunlight of the days of yore. 
 From the time he sits on his mother's knee and plays 
 "goose-head," where the sunlight streams in through the 
 open window, until the last hours of life, he is playing 
 with shadows. 
 
 The school-boy, weary of the monotonous and never- 
 
CHANGE. 355 
 
 to-be-conquered mathematics, envies the ignorant idler 
 with plenty of time at his disposal, and so steals away 
 from school duties, now and then, just for a little enjoy- 
 ment. Time passes on ; the school-boy is not a school- 
 boy forever. The time arrives when he is to go forth 
 in the world and be his own master. Now for the first 
 time he begins to look back and lament the mis-spent 
 privileges ; he has learnt a lesson from the past, but will 
 he profit by it in the future ? Let us see. He has arrived 
 at that age when he feels the need of a companion to 
 share his joys and sorrows and anticipate his wants. He 
 looks about him, and at last feasts his eyes upon one just 
 suited to his mortal vision. They enter upon life 
 together; but are man's wants satisfied? Not yet. He 
 is still clutching at a shadow. Wealth must be gained, 
 -even at the sacrifice of a small amount of honor. 
 
 The home' circle gradually becomes inadequate to 
 supply the requisite amount of enjoyment, and he seeks 
 diversion and amusement elsewhere. Home ties gradu- 
 ally lose their influence over him ; and the man of family 
 becomes a man of the world — hard, cold, calculating and 
 morose. Money is the supreme idol of his heart ; and to gain 
 money, every finer feeling is sacrificed. One by one his 
 family is called away, until he stands alone in the world, 
 a monument of the past. He plunges deeper in specu- 
 lation, or perhaps buries his griet in the wine-cup. 
 
 Years roll by ; the moneyed man succumbs at last to 
 old age ; and as his tottering footsteps near the grave, 
 then it is he first realizes the emptiness of life, and the 
 shadow he so long pursued. Death claims the worn out 
 frame at last ; and of all the treasures he has hoarded 
 from the land of shadows, none, save the Christain hope, 
 are present with him to smooth the dying pillow. 
 
 CHANGE. 
 
 Often as we laugh over the quaint epitaph found on 
 an old gravestone: "I was well, I wanted to be better, 
 
356 CHANGE. 
 
 I took medicine, and I am here," we overlook its general 
 applicability to the affairs of life. As with health, so with 
 business; nine persons out often ignore the golden secret 
 of content; they are constantly striving after something 
 different from that they enjoy. We do not depreciate 
 enterprise, but it is the habit of change that we protest 
 against — the habit of shifting from one pursuit to another. 
 There are thousands of almost penniless and disappointed 
 old men, picking up a precarious living at the extremity 
 of life, because they have, in the course of their existence, 
 tried a hundred different things, and abandoned all in 
 turn simply because success was not instantaneous; to 
 few men is it given to do more than one or two things 
 well. The Will Honeycombs, and Master Simons and 
 Admirable Crichtons are apt to be sad charlatans, de- 
 ceiving themselves as well as others. There is scarcely 
 any pursuit that, if followed out with singleness of pur- 
 pose, will not yield a rich return. 
 
 Everybody is apt to imagine somebody else's occupa- 
 tion easier than his own — to think his neighbor's "lot" 
 luckier than his — to be tempted to rob him of it, per- 
 haps, by supplantation. 
 
 The spirit of discontent is very unfortunate. It is 
 worse. It is wicked as well as weak. As such it should 
 be striven against with a hearty, and firmly-pronounced, 
 u Get thee behind me, Satan!" The very entertainment 
 of the thought is enervating — paralyzing — destructive of 
 all that is worthy of the name of " success" in the pres- 
 ent business of the entertainer. To accomplish anything, 
 beyond what the common run of business or professional 
 men perform, requires the utmost concentration of the 
 mind on the matter in hand. There is no room, in the 
 thoughts, for repinings over the misfortunes of one's lot, 
 or wishes for an exchange of places with another. In- 
 deed, it might be truthfully predicted that the indulgers 
 of such wishes would fail, utterly, in the new sphere, 
 could they get their wishes. 
 
 Do you imagine that all are happy who have attained 
 to those summits of distinction toward which your wishes 
 aspire? Alas! how frequently has experience shown, 
 
CHANGE. 357 
 
 that where roses were supposed to bloom, nothing but 
 briers and thorns grow. Reputation, beauty, riches, 
 grandeur, nay royalty itself, would many a time, have 
 been gladly exchanged by the possessors, for that more 
 quiet and humble station with which you now are dissat- 
 isfied. 
 
 It is the fate of mankind, too often, to seem insensible 
 of what they may enjoy at the easiest rate. Much would 
 have more and lost all. 
 
 Monotony is pleasant in itself; morally pleasant, and 
 morally useful. Living in the same house is monotonous ; 
 but three removes, say the wise, are 'as bad as a fire. I de- 
 light in that same monotony. It saves curiosity, anxiety, 
 excitement, disappointment, and a host of bad passions. 
 It gives a man the blessed invigorating feeling that he is 
 at home ; that he has roots, deep and wide, struck down 
 into all he sees; and that only the Being who will do noth- 
 ing cruel or useless, can tear them up. It is pleasant to 
 look down on the same parish day after day, and say, I 
 know all that lies beneath, and all beneath know me. If 
 I want a friend, I know where to find him; if I want 
 work done, I know who will do it. It is pleasant and 
 good to see the same trees year after year ; the same birds 
 coming back in spring to the same shrubs ; the same 
 banks covered with the same flowers, and broken (if they 
 be stiff ones) by the same gaps. Pleasant and good it is' 
 to ride on the same horse, to sit in the same chair, to 
 wear the same old coat. That man who offered twenty 
 pounds reward for a lost carpet-bag full of old boots was 
 a sage, and I wish 1 knew him. Why should one change 
 one's place, any more than one's wife or one's children? 
 Is a hermit-crab, slipping his tail out of one strange shell 
 into another, in the hopes of its fitting him a little better, 
 either a dignified, safe, or graceful amimal ? The oftener 
 one sees, the better one knows; and the better one 
 knows, the more one loves. 
 
 There is a family in New Haven that has moved thirty- 
 two times in twenty-six years. They are totally unable 
 to understand the meaning of the poet when he speaks 
 about a "local habitation and a name." 
 
SOCIAL CHANGES. 
 
 Once in two generations, on an average, the social 
 wheel makes a complete revolution, and reverses the 
 position of those who are on it. Those at the top now 
 are they who were at the bottom in the lifetime of their 
 fathers; and the children of those who are down now 
 will be up before their fathers are passed away. The 
 wheel is ever revolving, and it is the very fewest number 
 that manage to maintain their position aloft, while the 
 side that brought them to the top descends. Here and 
 there we find a family that has kept itself up to a condi- 
 tion of wealth, influence and honor, through two or three 
 generations ; but the greater proportion plunge headlong 
 to the bottom as rapidly as their fathers mounted to the 
 top. A distinguished lecturer once said with reference 
 to a conspicuous man of wealth in New York: u His 
 father was a peddler, he himself is a millionaire ; and his 
 son will die in the poor house." This, perhaps, was car- 
 rying the illustration to an extreme ; but the idea is only 
 a bold picture of the changes that take place in our social 
 life. Men of wealth and high position have no bitterer 
 reflection than the thought that their children will be out- 
 stripped before they reach the stage of middle life, by 
 ' the sons of blacksmiths, tailors, carpenters and trades- 
 men whom they refuse to associate with. Their very 
 wealth is often a curse to their children, for it debars 
 them from that healthful competition which sharpens the 
 wits and invigorates the faculties. It teaches them that 
 labor and industry are things to be despised and avoided ; 
 it encourages them in the habits of indolence and ex- 
 travagance, and it withholds from them the stimulus that 
 developes them into active, useful men. It is not true 
 that rich men's sons are fools ; but it is true that too many 
 sons of wealthy parents, by scorning healthful employ- 
 ments, and relying upon the riches which their fathers 
 acquired by patient, honest toil, allow their faculties to 
 rust in idleness till they seem to be below the average 
 
 358 
 
MISFORTUNE. 359 
 
 of intelligence and talent. In fact, so nearly universal is 
 the rule in this country, that poor men's sons rise to re- 
 spectability and sometimes to eminence, and rich men's 
 sons descend to poverty and oblivion, that it may be said to 
 be a misfortune to be born rich, and an advantage to be 
 born poor. It is not the sons of the rich who will, as a 
 rule, remain rich. The sons of the poor will get rich ; and 
 there are to-day, drudging in office, counting rooms, and 
 manufacturing establishments of all kinds, the men who, 
 in twenty-five years, will control the nation socially, 
 politically and financially. Every man of them means to 
 be married ; they will as a rule, make excellent husbands; 
 they are all at work trying to win success. They are 
 men who would be easily improved by recognition, and 
 by bringing them into good, intelligent society ; yet they 
 are as little noticed as if they were so many dogs. Ex- 
 cellent young men from the country go into the city to 
 live for years without any society, and are regarded by 
 the fashionable young women with indifference or con- 
 tempt; but these men have a good hold upon the future; 
 and when their success is known, in whatever field of en- 
 terprise it may be, the fashionable world will be glad to 
 receive them as belonging to their own number. As a 
 rule, the young men for whom a position has been won 
 by virtuous and enterprising fathers amount to but little 
 in the world ; and companions chosen from those having 
 their fortunes to make and their positions to win, are 
 those to whom a well-bred woman can generally with 
 safety intrust her happiness and herself. 
 
 MISFORTUNE. 
 
 There is a Russian proverb which says that misfortune 
 is next door to stupidity ; and it will generally be found 
 that men who are constantly lamenting their ill-luck, are 
 only reaping the consequences of their own neglect, mis- 
 management, improvidence, or want of application. Dr. 
 Johnson who went up to London with a single guinea in 
 
360 MISFORTUNE. 
 
 his pocket, and who once accurately described himself 
 in his signature to a letter, as Impransus, or Dinnerless, 
 has honestly said, "All the complaints which are made 
 of the world are unjust; I never knew a man of merit 
 neglected; it was generally by his own fault that ha failed 
 of success." In the time that men waste in bewailing 
 the perverseness of their fortune, they could gain a com- 
 petence. 
 
 Bad luck is simply a man with his hands in his breeches 
 pockets and a pipe in his mouth looking to see how it will 
 come out. Good luck is a man of pluck to meet difficul- 
 ties, his sleeves rolled up, working to make it come right. 
 
 Would you wish to live without trials? Then you 
 would wish to die but half a man. Without trials you 
 cannot guess at your own strength. Men do not learn to 
 swim on a table; they must go into deep water, and 
 buffet the surges. If you wish to understand their true 
 character — if you would know their whole strength — of 
 what they are capable, throw them overboard ! Over 
 with them, and if they are worth saving, they will swim 
 ashore of themselves. If there were no clouds we should 
 not enjoy the sunshine. The trials of life are the tests 
 which ascertain how much gold there is in us. We 
 should manage our fortune as we do our health— enjoy 
 it when good, be patient when it is bad, and never apply 
 violent remedies except in extreme cases. Never meet 
 trouble half way, but let him have the whole walk for 
 his pains. Perhaps he will give up his visit in sight of 
 your house. If misfortune comes into your house, be 
 patient, and smile pleasantly, and it will soon stalk out 
 again, for it can't bear cheerful company. Do not think 
 you are fated to be miserable, because you are disap- 
 pointed in your expectation, and baffled in your pursuits. 
 Do not declare that God has forsaken you, when your 
 way is hedged about with thorns, or repine sinfully, when 
 He calls your dear ones to the land beyond the grave. 
 The sunshine lies upon the mountain-top all day, and 
 lingers there latest and longest at eventide. Yet is the 
 valley green and fertile, and the mountain-top barren 
 and unfruitful. 
 
MISFORTUNE. 361 
 
 The greatest misfortune of all, is not to be able to bear 
 misfortune. Not to feel misfortunes is not the part of a 
 mortal ; but not to bear them is not becoming in a man. 
 Philosophy can teach us to bear the calamities of others 
 with magnanimity, but it is religion only that can teach 
 us to bear our own with resignation. Calamity never 
 leaves us where it finds us; it either softens or hardens 
 the heart of its victim. Misfortune is never mournful to 
 the soul that accepts it, for such do always see that every 
 cloud is an angel's face. Every man deems that he has 
 precisely the trials and temptations which are the hardest 
 of all others for him to bear ; but they are so, simply be- 
 cause they are the very ones he most needs. 
 
 Bad fortune is a fancy ; she is just — 
 
 Gives to the poor hope, and the rich distrust. 
 
 From the manner in which men bear their conditions, 
 we often pity the prosperous, and admire the unfortunate. 
 Every man has his chain and his clog ; it may be more 
 loose and light to one than it is to another; but he who 
 takes it up is more at ease than he who drags it. It is 
 the part of a cowardly nature to be always predicting 
 disaster. It may serve as a comfort to us in all our ca- 
 lamities and afflictions that he that loses anything and 
 gets wisdom by it is a gainer by the loss. Divine Provi- 
 dence always places the remedy near the evil. There is 
 no duty to which Providence has not annexed a blessing ; 
 nor is there any affliction, for which virtue has not pro- 
 vided a remedy. 
 
 Plutarch tells us that when Anaxagoras heard of the 
 death of his son, he only said, I knew he was mortal. So 
 we in all casualties of life should say, I knew my riches 
 were uncertain, that my friend was but a man. Such 
 considerations would soon pacify us, because all our 
 troubles proceed from their being unexpected. A firm 
 trust in the excellence of an Almighty Being, naturally 
 produces patience, hope, cheerfulness, and all other dis- 
 positions of mind, that alleviate those calamities which 
 we are not able to remove. 
 
 There is this good in real evils, they deliver us, while 
 they last, from the petty despotism of all that were im- 
 
362 MISFORTUNE. 
 
 aginary. The present evil is often the husk in which 
 Providence has enclosed the germ of future prosperity. 
 Misfortunes are moral bitters, which frequently restore 
 the healthy tone of the mind when it has been cloyed 
 and sickened by the sweets of prosperity. Wise men 
 mingle innocent mirth with their cares, in order either 
 to forget or overcome them. But to be intemperate for 
 the ease of one's mind, is to cure melancholy with mad- 
 ness. Instead of fighting misfortune, we too often make 
 it prisoner. He that can endure can overcome. 
 
 Misfortune and misconduct were born twins. Our 
 faults are often the parent of our woes, and he who most 
 declaims at the world's frown has generally done its best 
 to earn it. 
 
 When fortune humors, she corrupts us. Our own way 
 is often the wrong way. Rugged roads make wary 
 travelers. Dark trials are shining lights ; and the more 
 we are diverted from what we covet and love, the better 
 are we adapted to that kind of life which most people 
 are compelled to lead; which they rebel against and de- 
 nounce, but which is the daily school of wisdom and self- 
 knowledge, whose discipline is sharp and severe, but ap- 
 propriate to a warring and fluctuating world; whose 
 calms are as stagnating and baneful as its storms are 
 purifying and healthful ; and where tranquility is not a 
 fixed and permanent condition, but the casual quiescence 
 and unstable harmony of opposing and conflicting forces. 
 
 Men's happiness springs mainly from moderate troubles, 
 which afford the mind a healthful stimulus, and are fol- 
 lowed by a reaction which produces a cheerful flow of 
 spirits. 
 
 A misfortune, like a storm in traveling, gives zest for 
 the sunshine, freshness to the prospect, and often intro- 
 duces an agreeable companion for the remainder of our 
 journey. 
 
 It is not the best things — that is, the things which we 
 call best — that make men; it is not the calm experiences 
 of life ; it is life's rugged experience, its tempests, its 
 trials. The discipline of life is here good and there evil, 
 here trouble and there joy, here rudeness and there 
 
MISFORTUNE. 363 
 
 smoothness, one working with the other, which necessi- 
 tate adaptations, and constitute a part of that education 
 which makes man a man, in distinction from an animal, 
 which has no education. The successful man invariably 
 bears on his brow the marks of his struggles which he 
 has had to undergo. None of us know what we can live 
 past till we have proved it. God sends us strange 
 strength to carry us on from one great trial to the next 
 that is reserved for us. We live through them — and 
 past them. So that to the world they seem over ; so 
 that strangers cheerfully observe to each other, that "we 
 seem quite ourselves." 
 
 Every pain you feel is necessary ; God does not afflict 
 willingly, or foi his pleasure, but for your profit. We 
 can bear all that is ordained for us. Our strength is 
 freshly renewed with every trouble. The right path 
 leading to the ways of earthly happiness and content- 
 ment is to know how to measure the trials sent upon us, 
 and how to meet the vicissitudes of this life. 
 
 The black cloud makes the traveler mend his pace 
 and mind his home ; whereas a fair day and a pleasant 
 way waste his time, and that stealeth away his affections 
 in the prospect of the country. However others think 
 of it, yet I take it as a mercy, that now and then, some 
 troubles come between me and my sun, and many times 
 some troubles do conceal my comforts ; for I perceive, if 
 I should find too much friendship in my inn, in my pilgrim- 
 age, I should soon forget my father's house, and my 
 heritage. As we stand by the sea shore and watch the 
 tide come in, we retreat, think we will be overwhelmed; 
 soon, however, it flows back. So with the waves of 
 trouble in the world ; they threaten us, but a firm resist- 
 ance makes them break at our feet 
 
 People may rail as they like at rainy days ; we are 
 confident the in-door, as well as the out-door world, 
 never could get along without them. The work we ac- 
 complish then ! — the freedom from distracting intruders ! 
 — the odds and ends of fragmentary plans we pick up! — 
 the ideas which have time to hatch and mature and cluck 
 success! We rejoice in every rain-drop that spatters 
 
"364 MISFORTUNE. 
 
 against the window ; — the more mud in the street, the 
 clearer our brains. Therefore, all hail rainy days, say 
 we. Like their bright, and more cheerful companions, 
 clear days, they have their advantages, and serve their 
 ends. 
 
 Never trouble trouble till trouble troubles you, for 
 trouble rarely troubles people who never trouble them 
 selves about trouble. 
 
 Should misfortune overtake you, retrench, work harder, 
 but never fly ; confront difficulties with unflinching per 
 severance ; should you then fail, you will be honored ; 
 but shrink, and you will be despised. 
 
 The spirits of some men seem proof against bad 
 fortune. If they are afflicted with jaundice so badly thai 
 everything looks yellow to them, they are happy in 
 having always before them a golden prospect 
 
 There is always one consolation — whatever our mis- 
 fortune, it might be worse. Where life hangs on a 
 thread, it would be a comfort to think that it was not 
 hanging on a rope. 
 
 Our worst misfortunes are those that never befall us. 
 
 If you fall into misfortune, disengage yourself as well 
 as you can; creep through the bushes that have the 
 fewest briars. There is no fortune so good that it may 
 not be reversed, and none so bad that it may not be bet- 
 tered. While we are looking away off yonder for the 
 solution of our difficulties, the remedy is all the time lying 
 just under our noses ! 
 
 Trials are the more severe as we look at them, dwell 
 upon them, and ponder them in our hearts. Looking 
 continually at an object magnifies it. Turning from all 
 •our surroundings, and fixing the eye on Jesus, and on 
 him alone, obstacles are removed, difficulties vanish, and 
 the soul rests in quietness in the arms of infinite love, 
 secure from all that can harm. 
 
 Bury your troubles, but don't linger around the grave- 
 yard conjuring up their ghosts to haunt you. There are 
 men who chew misfortunes as asses chew thistles. 
 
 It is much better for one to forget his misfortunes than 
 to brood over them, and talk about them. To brood over 
 
MISFORTUNE. 36& 
 
 ills which may happen in the future, is to make of imag- 
 ination an ever present reality. Grieving for misfortune 
 is adding gall to wormwood. " Don't shiver for last year's 
 snow," a saying of Archbishop Whately's, is peculiarly 
 applicable to those who make themselves miserable over 
 troubles that are past. 
 
 It would be no virtue to bear calamities, if we did not 
 feel them. 
 
 Some people are as careful of their troubles as mothers 
 are of their babies ; they cuddle them, and rock them, 
 and hug them, and cry over them, and fly into a passion 
 with you if you try to take them away from them ; they 
 want you to fret with them, and to help them to believe 
 that they have been worse treated than any body else. 
 If they could, they would have a picture of their grief 
 in a gold frame hung over the mantel-shelf for everybody 
 to look at. And their grief makes them ordinarily selfish 
 — they think more of their dear little grief in the basket 
 and in the cradle than they do of all the world besides; 
 and they say you are hard-hearted if you say " don't fret." 
 " Ah! you don't understand me — you don't know me — 
 you can't enter into my trials." 
 
 You know the story of the boy who would not cry, 
 though the wolf was gnawing him beneath his frock. 
 Most of us have some wolf to gnaw us somewhere; but 
 we are generally gnawed beneath our clothes, so that the 
 world doesn't see, and it behooves us to bear it that the 
 world shall not suspect. The man who goes about pro- 
 claiming himself to be miserable will be not only miser- 
 able, but contemptible as well. 
 
 We often live under a cloud ; and it is well for us that 
 we should do so. Uninterrupted sunshine would parch 
 our hearts ; we want shade and rain to cool and refresh 
 them. The filter of misfortune is needed to separate 
 true friends from the scum. 
 
 To mourn a mischief that is past and gone, 
 
 Is the next way to draw new mischief on. 
 
 What cannot be preserv'd when fortune takes, 
 
 Patience her injury a mockery makes. 
 
 Therobb'd that smiles steals something from the thief; 
 
 He robs himself, that spends a bootless grief. 
 
 — Shak. 
 
366 MISFORTUNE. 
 
 Somebody says, "half the troubles of life are born of 
 trifles." Somebody is not far wrong. Man is so fear- 
 fully and wonderfully made that he bears great evils with 
 more equanimity than what are called little annoyances. 
 If Benedick loses the wife of his bosom, the odds are 
 that he bears the dispensation like a Christian ; but if he 
 mislays his latch-key he too frequently swears like a 
 heretic. An individual capable of burying his grand- 
 mother without a groan, has been known to manifest a 
 remarkable degree of feeling at the absence of a shirt 
 button. The mysterious disappearance of small, inani- 
 mate objects, frequently gives rise to the most lively 
 concern. Strong-minded ladies, who would scorn to show 
 undue excitement amid the convulsions of an earthquake, 
 have been heard to use intemperate expressions when 
 they could not find their thimble or their scissors. 
 There are dozens of articles in common use which have 
 a villainously provoking trick of concealing themselves 
 at the very moment when they are most needed, that 
 might well disturb the moral equilibrium of a saint. In- 
 deed, we have known a church-member, in good standing, 
 to say things about a missing pair of spectacles, which 
 were anything but canonical. Devout angels, who would 
 not have winced under the misfortune that befel Jonah, 
 sometimes stamp with rage when their lines, instead of 
 falling in pleasant places, get fast in a submerged snag or 
 an impending tree ; and we have seen two Christian wo- 
 men in an omnibus in sublime passion because one of 
 them wanted a window open and the other wanted it 
 shut. Almost any of us can brace ourselves up to en- 
 counter with fortitude the great difficulties of life ; it is 
 the little ones that upset us. He who can bear both 
 without wincing or ill-temper, is not only a hero to the 
 world at large, but even to his family. 
 
 It is less difficult to hide a thousand pounds than a hole 
 m the coat. Forty little debts of one dollar each, will 
 cause you more trouble and dunning than one big one of 
 a thousand. 
 
 When birds are flying over, and the fowler lies in wait 
 for them, if they fly low, some are wounded, and some 
 
MISFORTUNE. 367 
 
 swerving sideways, plunge into the thicket and hide 
 themselves. But you will find that immediately after the 
 first discharge of the gun, the flock rise and fly higher. 
 And at the next discharge they rise again, and fly still 
 higher. And not many times has the plunging shot 
 thinned out their number, before they take so high a 
 level that it is in vain that the fowler aims at them, be- 
 cause they are above the reach of his shot. When 
 troubles come upon you, fly higher. And if they will 
 strike you, fly still higher. And by and by you will rise 
 so high in the spiritual life, that your affection will be 
 set on things so entirely above, that these troubles shall 
 not be able to touch you. "Rise higher.' 7 
 
 Often when the hand of misfortune has darkened our 
 brightest prospects, and swept away our sunlit dreams of 
 future happiness, has some unseen monitor pointed our 
 drooping spirit towards the day-star of Hope, and bid us 
 struggle on ; and as we look forward into the future, 
 fancy points us to a brighter day's dawning. When the 
 soul is often bowed down with the weight of its own 
 sorrows, the heart is well nigh crushed, and despair is 
 slowly preying as a canker worm upon its vitals, even 
 then some faint glimmering of a sunlit future steals upon 
 it like a rainbow of light. Mark that pale mother bend- 
 ing over the couch of a sick and dying child! The 
 night wind howls mournfully around her shattered 
 dwelling, as if to hymn the requiem of the dying one 
 within. The few remaining embers are fast fading away 
 and she knows not where to obtain more ; poverty, want 
 and death seem to be her inevitable doom. Then, in this 
 her hour of sorrow, and of woe, she lifts her heart to 
 heaven, and prays for a speedy relief and she prays not 
 in vain. Look for a moment on the dark ages, when 
 Romanism ruled the world, when innocence and virtue 
 became its victims, and ignorance and superstition walked 
 abroad in the land ; but ere long truth conquered error, 
 and the night of darkness gave place to the light day. 
 In the last great conflict of our Saviour with the 
 powers of darkness, when the wrath of God seemed 
 overshadowing him, he cried with a loud voice, saying, 
 
368 ADVERSITY. 
 
 u My God, my God! why hast thou forsaken me?" Was 
 not even then the vale about to be opened, which 
 separated him and the Great Eternal, and the hidden 
 mysteries of the unseen to be revealed. 
 
 Man is ever wishing, and never satisfied — ever chang- 
 ing, and never fixed — ever hoping, and never realizing — 
 and thus many dark and desolate hours fall to the lot of 
 earth's sons and daughters. And although dark shadows 
 may linger round thy pathway, and dark clouds of 
 gloomy despondency steal over thy spirit in the journey 
 of life, yet still hope on, and hope ever, and be assured 
 that though dark may be the night, bright will be the 
 dawning of the day. 
 
 ADVERSITY. 
 
 No man has a thorough taste of prosperity to whom 
 adversity has never happened. He that has never known 
 adversity is but half acquainted with others, or with 
 himself. Constant success shows us but one side of the 
 world. For as it surrounds us with friends who will 
 tell us only our merits, so it silences those enemies from 
 whom alone we can learn our defects. A wise man takes 
 all adversities and misfortunes as blessings in disguise. 
 He laughs and is always happy, while the poor com- 
 plaining simpleton fancies happiness to consist in idle 
 pleasure, and never finds it. 
 
 Past enjoyments do not alleviate present evils ; where- 
 as the evils a man has endured, heighten the present 
 satisfactions. Prosperity is not without its troubles, nor 
 is adversity without its comforts. A good man enjoys 
 comfort in the midst of adversity. To the upright there 
 ariseth light in darkness. Prosperity has always been 
 the cause of far greater evil to men than adversity ; and 
 it is easier for a man to bear this patiently than not to 
 forget himself in the other. If you faint in the day of 
 adversity, your strength is small. 
 
 The virtue of prosperity is temperance, but the virtue 
 
ADVERSITY. 369 
 
 of adversity is fortitude, and the last is the most sublime 
 attainment. Prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testa- 
 ment ; adversity of the New which, therefore, carrieth 
 the greater benediction and clearer revelation of God's 
 favor. 
 
 It is more honorable not to have and yet deserve, than 
 to have and not deserve. The Christian knows that life 
 has many trials, and believes that God has appointed this 
 world as the representative for another, and regards not 
 with feelings of envy or jealousy the more prosperous con- 
 dition of others. The misfortunes of the virtuous often 
 turn to their advantage. When the world persecutes 
 them, they are generally driven into some illustrious 
 career. Misfortunes are the road to great talents ; or, at 
 least, to great virtues, which are preferable. 
 
 Imprint this maxim deeply in your mind, that there is 
 nothing certain in this human and mortal state, by which 
 means you will avoid being transported with prosperity 
 and dejected in adversity. In contemplating your mis- 
 fortune always look beneath you — in thinking of your 
 fortune and wisdom, always look above you — thus shall 
 you be kept from despair and from pride. Never allow 
 misfortune to make you selfish, but imitate the example 
 of Fenelon, who, when his library was on fire, exclaimed, 
 u God be praised that it is not the dwelling of a poor 
 man." Repine not if you see others better fed than 
 yourself. Perhaps they are fattened for destruction, and 
 you dieted for health. A main reason why adversity 
 often makes a man scorned is that it makes him abject, 
 thus worthy of scorn. Some people regard all their own 
 afflictions as trials, and all their neighbor's as judgments. 
 
 The learned pig didn't learn its letters in a day. True 
 merit, like the pearl inside an oyster, is content to re- 
 main quiet, until it finds an opening. The top straw- 
 berries are eaten the first. He who leaves early gets the 
 best hat. Pride sleeps in a gilded crown: contentment 
 in a cotton nightcap. 
 
 Adversity is a poultice which reduces our vanity and 
 strengthens our virtue ; it is the great lapidary, by which 
 all human crystallizations must sooner or later be tried. 
 
 24 
 
370 ADVERSITY. 
 
 From those which possess the hidden diamond it only re- 
 moves the unseemly coating; the worthless ones, it 
 grinds to powder. Adversity overcome is the brightest 
 glory, and willingly undergone, the greatest virtue. 
 Sufferings are but the trials of valliant spirits. 
 
 Much adversity is requisite to make us hate life; a 
 beckon from prosperity will recall this hatred instantly. 
 
 Adversity abases the loveliness of the world, that 
 might entice us ; it abates the lustfulness of the flesh 
 within, that incites us to folly and vanity ; and it abates 
 the spirit in its quarrel with the two former, which tends 
 much to the reviving and recovering of decayed graces. 
 
 A virtuous man is more peaceable in adversity than a 
 wicked. man in prosperity. Nothing but moderation and 
 greatness of mind can make either a prosperous or an 
 adverse fortune easy to us. If you can live free from 
 want, care for no more, for the rest is but vanity. A 
 very little is sufficient for a wise man. 
 
 Prosperity is no just scale ; adversity is the only true 
 balance to weigh a friend. Faith and friendship are 
 seldom truly tried but in extremes. To find friends 
 when we have no need of them, and to want them when 
 we have, are both alike easy and common. In prosperity, 
 who will not profess to love a man; in adversity, how 
 few will show that they do it. When we are happy in 
 the spring-tide of abundance, and the rising flood of 
 plenty, then the world will be our servants ; then all men 
 flock about us, with bared heads, with bended bodies and 
 protesting tongues. But when these pleasing waters fall 
 to ebbing ; when wealth sjiifteth to another strand ; then 
 men look upon us at a distance, and stiffen themselves, 
 as if they were in armor; lest, if they should comply 
 with us, the/ should get a wound in the close. Our 
 fortunes and ourselves are things so closely linked, that 
 we know not which is the cause of the love that we find. 
 When these two shall part, we may then discern to which 
 of them affection will make wing. Men are often deserted 
 in adversity. When the sun sets our very shadows 
 refuse to keep us company. In our adversity it is night 
 with us, and in the night many beasts of prey range 
 
ADVERSITY. 371 
 
 abroad that keep their dens through the day. In time 
 of good fortune it is easy to appear great — nay, even 
 to act greatly; but in misfortune very difficult. The 
 greatest man will commit blunders in misfortune, be- 
 cause the want of proportion between his means and 
 his ends progressively increases and his inward strength 
 is exhausted in fruitless efforts. 
 
 Whoever attempts to cross the boisterous sea of life 
 without sound moral principles for ballast, will either be 
 wrecked by the storms of adversity or capsized by the 
 breezes of prosperity. 
 
 " Sweet are the uses of adversity !" 
 
 The Emperor of Austria has been so affected by the 
 execution of his brother, Maximilian, that he is reported 
 to have declared that he will never again sign a death 
 warrant. " One touch of nature makes mankind kin." 
 
 Adversity exasperates fools, dejects cowards, draws 
 out the faculties of the wise and industrious, puts the 
 modest to the necessity of trying their skill, awes the 
 opulent, and makes the idle industrious. 
 
 He who bears adversity well gives the best evidence 
 that he will not be spoiled by prosperity. 
 
 Adversity certainly has its uses, and very valuable 
 ones, too. It has been truly remarked that many a man, 
 in losing his fortune, has found himself and been ruined 
 into salvation. Adversity flatter eth no man. Oft from 
 apparant ills our blessings rise. Who never fasts, no ban- 
 quet e'er enjoys. In prosperity, be humble ; in adversity, 
 cheerful. If you have the blues, go and see the poorest 
 and sickest families within your knowledge. To bear 
 the sharp afflictions of life like men, we should also feel 
 them like men. The darker the setting, the brighter the 
 diamond. Probably we might often become reconciled 
 to what we consider a hard lot by comparing ourselves 
 with the many who want what we possess rather than 
 with the few who possess what we want. He is happy 
 whose circumstances suit his temper ; but he is happier 
 who can suit his temper to his circumstances. There is 
 a virtue in keeping up appearances. He is a fool that 
 grumbles at every little mischance. Put the best foot 
 
372 ADVERSITY. 
 
 forward, is an old and good maxim. Don't run about 
 and tell acquaintances that you have been unfortunate; 
 people do not like to have unfortunate men for acqaaint- 
 ances. If the storm of adversity whistles around you, 
 whistle as bravely yourself; perhaps the two whistles 
 may make melody. 
 
 Men are frequently like tea — the real strength and 
 goodness are not properly drawn out of them till they 
 have been a short time in hot water. The ripest fruit 
 grows on the roughest wall. It is the small wheels of 
 the carriage that come in first. The man who holds the 
 ladder at the botton is frequently of more service than 
 he who is stationed at the top of it. The turtle, though 
 brought in at a rear gate, takes the head of the table. 
 Better to be the cat in the philanthropist's family than a 
 mutton pie at a king's banquet. To enjoy to-day, stop 
 worrying about to-morrow. Next week will be as capable 
 of taking care of itself as this one is. No man honors 
 God, and no man justifies God, at so high a rate, as he 
 who lays his hand upon his mouth when the rod of God 
 is upon his back. That moment we can patiently say 
 from our heart — under any trial, God's will be done; that 
 moment the smart and pain are taken out of it, and the 
 wound commences to heal. Slowly it may be — with 
 many a halting step in store ere all traces of our faltering 
 shall have disappeared, but yet when that has been 
 sincerely said, as certain as life itself, we shall stand 
 strong and erect before him, with smiling face looking 
 into our untried and accepted future, leaving it willingly 
 in his hands who " in love, hath smote us." Prosperity — 
 not adversity — is our foe. We may well pray, when life 
 like a brimming wine cup is held sparkling to our lips, 
 and way is made for us in the public thoroughfare, and 
 our ships ride safely on the ocean, and our coffers are 
 full, for then is the soul too often starved, and lies like 
 Lazarus begging at the gate of Dives. Ah — if we have 
 no ears for that cry ! If in rags that soul must be bid 
 to the Marriage Supper of the Lamb. If all we have 
 lived for must be left at the tomb's portal — how much 
 more blessed he, who through blinding tears, has yet laid 
 
DAYS OF DARKNESS. 373 
 
 up his treasure in heaven. No man can become truly 
 wise, till, sensible of his spiritual ignorance, like a little 
 child, he comes to God's Word to learn the first elements of 
 truth. 
 
 God denies us nothing, but with a design to give us 
 something better. 
 
 Adversity, sage, useful guest, 
 Severe instructor, but the best. 
 It is from these alone we know, 
 Justly to value things below. 
 
 DAYS OF DARKNESS. 
 
 " Truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the 
 sun; but if a man lives many years, and rejoices in them all ; yet let him re- 
 member the days of darkness; for they shall be many." — Ecclesiastes 11 : 7, 8. 
 
 Behold that young man just leaving the parental home 
 to work out for himself the deep and intricate problem 
 of human life. Health blooms upon his cheek, and 
 nerves his arm ; hope inspires his breast ; and fancy be- 
 guiles him with enchanting prospects. The light is 
 golden that illumines his morning sky, and its roseate 
 hues rest beautifully on the western hill-tops, over whose 
 craggy summits lies the path which he must tread, foot- 
 soie and weary often, when clouds meet above his head, 
 and thunders roll, and lightning flash, blasting perhaps 
 the beloved objects that ministered to his comfort and 
 happiness. Trace him in the scenes of busy life, — there 
 is a mark of sadness on his countenance, — why is it? A 
 day of darkness is approaching. A parent, a brother, or 
 sister, a child, or wife, it may be, is lying on a bed of 
 death. Grief bows him to the dust, — gloom gathers 
 around him, — pleasure has lost its charms; the season of 
 calamity has come. And this is but the u beginning of 
 sorrows ;" for the days of darkness shall be many. 
 
 Opulence has rewarded his toils; he counts gold and 
 calls it his own ; he dwells in a luxurious mansion ; he has 
 houses and lands, and flocks and herds. But the raging 
 flames sweep away his structures ; the thief purloins his 
 
374 DAYS OF DARKNESS. 
 
 treasures; reserves swallow up his substance; — he is 
 penniless. Adversity weighs him down ; friends forsake 
 him ; servitude is his portion ; and he eats the bread of 
 poverty. It is a day of darkness. 
 
 He has gained the respect and esteem of his fellow 
 men ; his integrity and uprightness have earned for him 
 the confidence of his neighbors ; but suspicious rumors 
 are covertly circulated in the community, tending to 
 disparage him in the estimation of the good ; foul slanders 
 gain currency, blackening fearfully his hitherto fair 
 character ; circumstances are against him ; he is unable to 
 redeem his reputation, and, though innocent, the stain 
 cannot be removed. Old friends, with whom he has 
 spent many happy hours, now shun his society, and the 
 vile and abandoned cast their reproach upon him. His 
 sun is clouded, — it is a gloomy day in his history. 
 
 Or, perhaps, his cheeks lose their rosy blush, and be- 
 come wan and sunken ; his pulse, bouncing once, is 
 sluggish and dull ; his eye has lost its fire ; his brawny 
 arm is powerless ; his boasted strength is vanished ; dis- 
 ease has fastened itself upon his frame, and he looks 
 forward sorrowfully to weary months, — years, perchance, 
 — of suffering and anguish, terminated, it may be, by 
 death ; or, which is scarcely less to be dreaded, left with 
 a broken constitution, and dragging out a miserable ex- 
 istence, beset by pain and distress. Then will he bethink 
 him of " the days of darkness;" for many indeed are his 
 portion. 
 
 Pressed down thus by accumulated misfortunes, — 
 bereaved of friends, — deprived of property, — spoiled of 
 reputation, — undermined in health, — it were not strange 
 if despondency should seize upon his mind, and com- 
 pletely unfit him for exertion to better his sad lot. His 
 ambition, that once soared so high and plumed its wings 
 for such daring flights, crest-fallen and unnerved, may 
 trail its gaudy pinions in the dust; hope, whose inspiring 
 words in former times, rang upon his ear like the tone 
 of a trumpet, is silent now ; or, if that silence is occasion- 
 ally broken, it speaks but in whispered words, and with 
 faltering accents ; love, that in more propitious seasons 
 
AFFLICTION. 375 
 
 warmed his heart and vivified his whole nature, has 
 yielded up its dominion to stern and sullen misantrophy; 
 and life itself may seem to him a burthen too heavy to 
 be borne. Ah, how dark and cheerless are such days ! 
 
 But far more deplorable is the state of him, who, hav- 
 ing run through life's brief years in the sweet sunshine 
 of comfort and earthly happiness, comes at length to the 
 unwelcome hour when Death summons him away, and 
 who, as he glances his spirit's eye through the vast future 
 that awaits him, sees no cheering light, no rising sun, to 
 gladen his endless career, and remembers, with bitterness 
 of soul, that although he has rejoiced in many years upon 
 the earth, many, many " days of darkness" now lie before 
 him, even an Eternity of sorrow and unavailing repent- 
 ance. 
 
 Thrice happy he, whose path is that of the just, which, 
 beaming brighter and brighter day by day, is lost at 
 length in the noontide splendors of the Heavenly Glory ! 
 
 AFFLICTION. 
 
 They are always impaired by affliction, who are not 
 thereby improved. Some natures are like grapes — the 
 more they are down-trodden the richer the tribute they 
 supply. It may be affirmed, that good men generally 
 reap more substantial benefit from their afflictions, than 
 bad men do from their prosperities ; for what they lose 
 in wealth, pleasure, or honor, they gain in wisdom, good- 
 ness, and tranquility of mind. No creature would be 
 more unhappy, said Demetrius, than a man who had never 
 known affliction. The best need afflictions for the trial 
 of their virtue. How can we exercise the grace of con- 
 tentment, if all things succeed well ? or that of forgive- 
 ness, if we have no enemies ? 
 
 A good conscience is to the soul, what health is to the 
 body. It preserves a constant ease and serenity within 
 us, and more than countervails all the calamities and afflic- 
 tions which can possibly befall us. When we pity those 
 
376 AFFLICTION 
 
 that endure sickness and distress, or any other temporal 
 afflictions ; let us remember how much worse it is with 
 the prosperous and gay sinner, with them who are given 
 over to a reprobate sense, and are cut off in the midst of 
 their wickedness. As no man lives so happy, but to some 
 his life may seem unpleasant ; so we find none so miser- 
 able, but that one may hear of another that would change 
 calamities with him. 
 
 Nothing, perhaps, has a happier effect upon the human 
 heart, than the lessons affliction and suffering teach, pro- 
 vided we show proper submission. To rebel against 
 these has the opposite effect. It creates a petulance that 
 very much aggravates our difficulties. To bear the ills 
 of life patiently, is one of the noblest virtues ; and one, 
 too, that requires as vigorous an exercise of the will, as 
 to lesist the encroachments of wrong. The virtue of en- 
 durance is nearly allied to that of perseverence. Chil- 
 dren should be taught to bear their yoke in their youth. 
 One month in the school of affliction will teach us more 
 wisdom than all the grave precepts of Aristotle in seven 
 years. The way to make calamities easy is to make them 
 familiar. 
 
 What are honor, fame, wealth and power when com- 
 pared with the expectation of a being without end, and 
 a happiness adequate to that end? How poor will these 
 things seem at our last hour ! and how joyful will that 
 man be who hath led an honest, virtuous life, and hath 
 traveled on to heaven, though, perhaps, through the 
 roughest ways of poverty, affliction and contempt. Says 
 Chrysostom : "Oh! how many have been coached to 
 hell in the chariots of earthly pleasure, while others have 
 been whipped to heaven by the rod of affliction!" 
 
 St. Paul teaches us that tribulation worketh patience, 
 patience, experience ; and experience hope. 
 
 God's aim in afflicting his children is either to keep 
 them from sin, or, when they have sinned, to bring them 
 to repentance for it, and from it. Burn me here ; 
 scourge me here ; only spare me there. 
 
 If you would not have affliction visit you twice, listen 
 at once to what it teaches. 
 
AFFLICTION. 377 
 
 There is an old story in the Greek annals of a soldier 
 under Antigonus, who had a disease about him, an ex- 
 tremely painful one, likely to bring him soon to the grave. 
 Always first in the charge was this soldier, rushing into 
 the hottest part of the fray, as the bravest of the brave. 
 His pain prompted him to fight, that he might forget it ; 
 and he feared not death, because he knew that in any 
 case he had not long to live. Antigonus, who greatly 
 admired the valor of his soldier, discovering his malady, 
 had him cured by one of the most eminent physicians of 
 the day ; but, alas ! from that moment the warrior was 
 absent from the front of the battle. He now sought his 
 ease ; as he remarked to his companions, he had some- 
 thing to live for — health, home, family and other com- 
 forts, and he would not risk his life now as aforetime. 
 So when our troubles are many, we are often by grace 
 made courageous in serving God ; we feel we have noth- 
 ing to live for in this world, and we are driven by hope 
 of the world to come, to exhibit zeal, self-denial, and 
 industry. But how often is it otherwise in better times ! 
 for then the joy and pleasures of this world make it hard 
 for us to remember the world to come, and we sink into 
 inglorious ease. 
 
 It is not until we have passed through the furnace that 
 we are made to know how much dross was in our com- 
 position. 
 
 Sanctified afflictions are spiritual promotion. 
 Afflictions, when accompanied with grace, alter their 
 nature, as wormwood eaten with bread, will lose its bit- 
 terness. 
 
 Afflictions are designed to impress the mind with its 
 obligations, and lead men to Christ. If improved by 
 Christians, they will contribute to their holiness, their ac- 
 tivity and zeal, and their advancement in the divine life. 
 If improved by those who have been before indifferent 
 to their soul's interest, they will lead them to repentence, 
 and to the devotion of their hearts to God in faith and 
 affection. There is a voice in the providence of God 
 which speaks with solemnity, and which it is extremely 
 dangerous to disregard. 
 
378 SUFFERING. 
 
 During Dr. Payson's last illness, a friend coming into 
 his room remarked, familiarly, " Well, I am sorry to see 
 you lying here on your back." "Do you know what God 
 puts us on our backs for?" asked Dr. Payson, smiling. 
 "No," was the answer. " In order that we may look up- 
 ward." His friend said to him, "1 am not come to con- 
 dole but to rejoice with you ; for it seems to me that this 
 is no time for mourning." " Well, I am glad to hear that," 
 was the reply; "it is not often that I am addressed in 
 such a way. The fact is I never had less need of condo- 
 lence, and yet everybody persists in offering it ; whereas, 
 when I was prosperous and well, and a successful preacher, 
 and really needed condolence, they flattered and congrat- 
 ulated me." Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and 
 if we endure chastening, God dealeth with us as witb 
 sons and daughters. 
 
 SUFFERING. 
 
 The Mexicans salute their new born infants in this 
 manner: "Child, thou art come into the world to 
 suffer; endure and hold thy peace." All mankind must 
 taste the bitter cup which destiny has mixed. It is 
 better to suffer than to injure. It is better to suffer 
 without a cause than that there should be a cause for 
 our suffering. By experiencing distress, an arrogant in- 
 sensibility of temper is most effectually corrected, from the 
 remembrance of our own sufferings naturally prompting us 
 to feel for others in their sufferings, and if Providence has 
 favored us, so as not to make us subject in our own lot to 
 much of this kind of discipline, we should extract improve- 
 ment from the lot of others that is harder, and step aside 
 sometimes from the flowers and smooth paths which it is 
 permitted us to walk in, in order to view the toilsome march 
 of our fellow creatures through the thorny desert. 
 
 " Behind the steps that misery treads, 
 Approaching comforts view. * 
 
 It is a groundless assertion that suffering works out a 
 
SUFFERING. 379 
 
 moral purification by a natural law. Sometimes tem- 
 poral afflictions lead men to consider their spiritual 
 wants, and to seek the good of their higher nature. 
 And when once the heart has been renewed by grace, 
 and has entered into filial relations with God, the dis- 
 cipline of suffering has a tendency to purify its affections 
 from earthly dross, and to bring into a fuller participa- 
 tion of the divine holiness. But this is not strictly the 
 tendency of suffering as such, but of that gracious dis- 
 position which leads the humble and believing soul to 
 use suffering for its own profit. How often, alas, does 
 suffering not only fail to purify the soul from sin, but 
 aggravate and intensify its selfish and malignant passions, 
 and 'make it a very fiend. 
 
 It is true that fire, borne for the sake of truth, is 
 martyrdom ; but the hand burnt in ascetic severity does 
 not give the crown of martyrdom, nor even inspire the 
 martyr's feeling. Fastings such as St. Paul bore, from 
 inability to get food, give spiritual strength ; but fastings 
 endured for mere exercise, often do no more than pro- 
 duce feverishness of temper. This holds good, likewise, 
 of bereavement. The loss of those dear to us — relations 
 and friends — when it is borne as coming from God, has 
 the effect of strengthening and purifying the character. 
 But to bring sorrow wilfully upon ourselves can be of 
 no avail towards improvement. The difference in these 
 two things lies in this : that when God inflicts the blow, 
 He gives the strength ; but when you give it yourself, 
 God does not promise aid. Be sure this world has enough 
 of the cross in it ; you need not go out of your way to 
 seek it. Be sure there will always be enough humiliation 
 and shame, and solitariness for each man to bear, if he be 
 living the Christ life. They need not be self-inflictecL 
 
 Be mindful of the sufferings of the poor. 
 
SORROW. 
 
 A French wit and philosopher has said : " Our path 
 through life is thick set with thorns. We may as well 
 brush quickly and lightly past them." He who tastes only 
 the bitter in the cup of life, who looks only at the clouds 
 which lower in one quarter of the heavens, while the 
 sun is shining cheerily in another, who persists in prick- 
 ing and scratching himself with the thorn, and refuses to 
 enjoy the fragrance of the rose — is an ingrate to God and a 
 torment to himself. The record of human life is far more 
 melancholy than its course ; the hours of quiet enjoyment 
 are not noted ; the thousand graces and happiness of social 
 life, the loveliness of nature meeting us at every step, 
 the buoyancy of spirit resulting from health and pure air, 
 the bright sun, the starry firmament — all that cheers man 
 on his road through his probationary state, that warms 
 the heart and makes life pleasant, is omitted in the 
 narrative, which can only deal with facts ; and we read of 
 disappointment, and sickness, and death, and exclaim, 
 u Why is man born to sorrow?" He is not so; years of 
 enjoyment brace the soul for the grief when its comes; 
 and when it does come, it comes with so many alleviating 
 circumstances, for those who do not wilfully reject all the 
 lesser pleasures which the loving Father of all his works 
 has with so tender a care scattered at our feet, that even 
 the grief is far less in the reality than it appears in the 
 relation. 
 
 Sorrow comes soon enough without despondency; it 
 does a man no good to carry around a lightning rod to 
 attract trouble. When a gloom falls upon us, it may be 
 we have entered into the cloud that will give its gentle 
 showers to refresh and strengthen us. Heavy burthens 
 of sorrow seem like a stone hung round our neck, yet 
 they are often only like the stone used by pearl-divers, 
 which enables them to reach the prize and rise enriched. 
 Without suffering there could be no fortitude, no patience, 
 no compassion, no sympathy. Many of the brightest 
 
 38C 
 
SORROW. 381 
 
 virtues are like stars — it must be night or they cannot 
 shine. 
 
 Every heart has its secret sorrow, which the world 
 knows not; and oftentimes we call a man cold when he 
 is only sad. Give not thy mind to heaviness ; the glad- 
 ness of the heart is the life of man, and joy fulness of 
 a man prolongeth his days. Remove sorrow far from 
 thee, for sorrow hath killed many, and there is no profit 
 therein; and carefulness bringeth age before the time.* 
 Says Pope : 
 
 " One truth is clear : whatever is, is right." 
 
 Melancholy is but the shadow of too much happiness, 
 thrown by our own spirits upon the sunshiny side of life. 
 Look up and God will give you a song in your heart in- 
 stead of a tear in your eye. Night brings out the stars 
 as sorrows show us truths ; we never see the stars till 
 we can see little or naught else — and thus it is with truth. 
 When you feel inclined to cry, just change your mind and 
 laugh. Nothing dries sooner than tears. Sorrow, in its 
 exaltation, has an instinctive sympathy with the suffer- 
 ings -of others. Shakspeare says : 
 
 " Give sorrow words, the grief, that does not speak, 
 Whispers the o'er fraught heart, and bids it break." 
 
 We fancy that all our afflictions are sent us directly 
 from above; sometimes we think it in piety and contri- 
 tion, but oftener in moroseness and discontent. It would 
 be well, however, if we attempted to trace the cause of 
 them; we should probably find their origin in some 
 region of the heart which we never had well explored r 
 or in which we had secretly deposited our worst indul- 
 gences. The clouds that intercept the heavens from us 
 come not from the heavens, but from the earth. Excess 
 of sorrow is as foolish as profuse laughter. Loud mirth, 
 or immoderate sorrow, inequality of behavior, either in 
 prosperity or adversity, are alike ungraceful in a man 
 that is born to die. Some are refined, like gold, in the 
 furnace ; others, like chaff, are consumed in it. Sorrow, 
 when it is excessive, takes away fervor from piety, vigor 
 
382 BORROW. 
 
 from action, health from body, light from reason, and 
 repose from the conscience. 
 
 "Receive what cheer you may; 
 The night is long, that never finds the day." 
 
 To mourn without measure, is folly ; not to mourn at 
 all, is insensibility. G-od says to the fruit tree, bloom and 
 bear ; and to the human heart, bear and bloom — the soul's 
 great blossoming is the flower of suffering. 
 
 Sadness contracts the mind ; mirth dilates it. 
 
 Sorrow is to youth what experience is to maturity. 
 
 There are people who think that to be grim is to be 
 good, and that a thought, to be really wholesome, must 
 necessarily be shaped like a coffin. They seem to think 
 that black is the color of heaven, and that the more they 
 can make their faces look like midnight, the holier they 
 are. 
 
 " Sorrow is like a child that needs no nursing." 
 
 Sorrows are like tempest clouds: when afar off, they 
 look black, but when above us scarcely gray. Sorrow is 
 the night of the mind. What would be a day without 
 its night ? The day reveals one sun only ; the night 
 brings to light the whole of the universe. The analogy 
 is complete. Sorrow is the firmament of thought and the 
 school of intelligence. 
 
 Sorrow is one of God's own angels in the land. Her 
 pruning-knife may not spare the tender buds of hope that 
 make glad the garden of the soul, but her fingers sow 
 the seeds of a quick sympathy with the woes of a com- 
 mon humanity, which, springing into leaf, and bud, and 
 blossom, send perfume and beauty into the waste-places 
 of lonely lives, and permeate with fragrant incense the 
 soil that gave ihem birth. 
 
 Sorrow's mission is divine. At her touch the scales of 
 selfishness fall from blinded human eyes ; her breath dis- 
 solves the mists that hang about the secrets of our being, 
 and hitherto unknown possibilities are revealed to the 
 life whose sweetest sweets are never yielded till from its 
 heart the red blood flows as wine from the over-pressed 
 grape. 
 
sorrow. 383 
 
 They are true kings and queens, heroes and heroines, 
 who, folding a pall of tenderest memory over the faces 
 of their own lost hopes and perished loves, go with un- 
 faltering courage, to grapple with the future, to strengthen 
 the weak, to comfort the weary, to hang sweet pictures 
 of faith and trust in the silent galleries of sunless lives, 
 and to point the desolate, whose paths wind ever among 
 shadows and over rocks where never the green moss 
 grows, to the golden heights of the hereafter, where the 
 palms of victory wave. 
 
 Sorrow can never wholly fill the heart that is occupied 
 with other's welfare. Constant melancholy is rebellion. 
 He who has most of heart knows most of sorrow. 
 
 Strangely do people talk of getting over a great 
 sorrow! No one ever does that — at least, no nature 
 which can be touched by a feeling of grief at all. The 
 only way is to pass through the ocean of affliction 
 solemnly, slowly, with humility and faith, as the Israelites 
 passed through the sea. Then its very wave of misery 
 will divide and become to us as a wall on the right side 
 and the left, until the gulf narrows before our eyes, and 
 we land safely on the opposite shore. 
 
 Causeless depression is not to be reasoned with, nor 
 can David's harp charm it away, by sweet discoursings. 
 As well fight with the mist as with this shapeless, unde- 
 finable, yet all-beclouding hopelessness. If those who 
 laugh at such melancholy did but feel the grief of it, for 
 one hour, their laughter would be sobered into compas- 
 sion. Resolution might, perhaps, shake it off, but where 
 are we to find the resolution, when the whole man is 
 unstrung ? 
 
 It is a fearful thing to see how some men are made worse 
 by trial. It is terrible to watch sorrow as it sours the tem- 
 per and works out into malevolence and misanthropy. 
 
 It is a poor relief from sorrow to fly to the distractions 
 of the world ; as well might a lost and wearied bird, sus- 
 pended over the abyss of the tempestuous ocean, seek a 
 resting place on its heaving waves, as the child of trouble 
 seek a place of repose amid the bustling cares and intox- 
 icating pleasures of earth and time. Make God thy rest. 
 
SORROW FOR THE DEAD. 
 
 When we are dead there will be some honest sorrow. 
 A few will be really sad, as we are robed for the grave. 
 Fewer, probably than we now suppose. We are vain 
 enough to think our departure will produce considerable 
 sensation. But we over estimate it. Out of a small 
 circle how soon shall we be forgotten! A single leaf of 
 a boundless forest has fallen ! That is all. 
 
 The gay will laugh 
 When thou art gone ; the solemn brood of care 
 Plod on ; and each one, as before, will chase 
 His favorite phantom. 
 
 The world will go on without us. We may have 
 thought a very important wheel in the great machinery 
 will be ungeared when we are gone. But the world goes 
 clattering on as if nothing had happened. If we filled 
 important stations in society ; if we have wondered what 
 would, or could be done, if we were removed ; yet how 
 soon others will fill our stations! The world will be a 
 bustling active world without us. It was so before we 
 entered it. It will be so when we are gone. 
 
 When we are dead, affection may erect a monument. 
 But the hand that set it up will soon be powerless as 
 ours, and for the same cause. How soon they that weep 
 over us will follow us! The monument itself will 
 crumble, and it will fall on the dust that covers us. If 
 the marble or the granite long endures, yet the eye of 
 affection will not endure to read the graven letters. Men 
 will give a glance at the name of one they never knew, 
 and pass on with not a thought of the slumberer below. 
 
 On my grassy grave 
 The men of future time will careless tread 
 And read my name upon the sculptured stone ; 
 Nor will the sound, familiar to their ears, 
 Recall my vanished memory. 
 
 When we are dead our influence will not be dead 
 We leave epitaphs upon indestructible materials. Our 
 manner of life has been writing them. We have stirred 
 
 884 
 
SORROW FOR THE DEAD. 385 
 
 up thought and awakened emotion. The wonderful 
 machinery of mind has felt our presence. We have 
 pressed the stamp of character into the warm wax of our 
 moral sensibilities around us. Our places of business, our 
 social resort, may know us no more ; but living account- 
 able beings feel the influence that involves our personal 
 departure. 
 
 " The sorrow for the dead," says Irving, "is the only 
 sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every 
 other wound we seek to heal, every other affliction to 
 forget ; but this wound we consider it a duty to keep 
 open ; this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude. 
 
 " Where is the mother who would willingly forget 
 the infant that perished like a blossom from her arms, 
 though every recollection is a pang? Where is the 
 child that would willingly forget the most tender of 
 parents, though to remember be but to lament? Who, 
 even in the hour of agony, would forget the friend over 
 whom he mourns ? Who, even when the tomb is closing 
 upon the remains of her he most loved, when he feels his 
 heart, as it were, crushed in the closing of its portal, 
 would accept of consolation that must be bought by for- 
 getfulness ? 
 
 " No; the love which survives the tomb is one of the 
 noblest attributes of the soul. If it has its woes, it has 
 likewise its delights ; and when the overwhelming burst 
 of grief is calmed into the gentle tear of recollection, 
 when the sudden anguish and the convulsive agony over 
 the ruins of all that we most loved is softened away into 
 pensive meditation on all that it was in the days of its 
 loveliness, who would root out such a sorrow from the 
 heart? 
 
 "Though it may sometimes throw a passing cloud over 
 the bright hour of gayety, or spread a deeper sadness 
 over the hour of gloom, yet who would exchange it even 
 for the song of pleasure or the burst of revelry ? No ; 
 there is a voice from the tomb sweeter than song. There 
 is a remembrance of the dead to which we turn even 
 from the charms of the living. 
 
 u Oh, the grave! the grave! It buries every error, 
 
 25 
 
386 SORROW FOR THE DEAD. 
 
 covers every defect, extinguishes every resentment. 
 From its peaceful bosom spring none but fond regrets 
 and tender recollections. Who can look upon the grave 
 even of an enemy, and not feel a compunctious throb that 
 he should ever have warred with the poor handful of 
 earth that lies mouldering before him? 
 
 "But the grave of those we loved, what a place for 
 meditation ! There it is that we call up in long review 
 the whole history of virtue and gentleness, and the thou- 
 sand endearments lavished upon us almost unheeded in 
 the daily intercourse of intimacy. There it is that we 
 dwell upon the tenderness, the solemn, awful tenderness 
 of the parting scene. 
 
 " The bed of death, with all its stifled griefs, its noise- 
 less attendants, its mute, watchful assiduities, the last 
 testimonies of expiring love, the feeble, fluttering, thril 
 ling, oh, how thrilling ! pressure of the hand. The last 
 fond look of the glazing eye, turning upon us even from 
 the threshold of existence. The faint, faltering accents 
 struggling in death to give one more assurance of affec- 
 tion. Ay, go to the grave of buried love, and meditate ! 
 There settle the account with thy conscience for every 
 past benefit unrequited, every past endearment unre- 
 garded, of that departed being who can never — never 
 — never return to be soothed by thy contrition ! 
 
 " If thou art a child, and hast ever added a sorrow to 
 the soul or a furrow to the silver brow of an affectionate 
 parent; if thou art a husband, and hast ever caused the 
 fond bosom that ventured its whole happiness in thy 
 arms, to doubt one moment of thy kindness or thy truth ; 
 if thou art a friend, and hast ever wronged, in thought, 
 or word, or deed, the spirit that generously confided in 
 thee ; if thou art a lover, and hast given one unmerited 
 pang to that true heart which now lies cold and still be- 
 neath thy feet ; then be sure that every unkind look, every 
 ungracious word, every ungentle action, will come throng- 
 ing back upon thy memory, and knocking dolefully at thy 
 soul ; then be sure that thou wilt lie down sorrowing and 
 repentant on the grave, and utter the unheard groan, and 
 pour the unavailing tear, more deep, more bitter, because 
 unheard and unavailing. 
 
. : E FY I i i I L E 
 
TEARS. 387 
 
 "Then weave thy chaplet of flowers and strew the 
 beauties of nature about the grave ; console thy broken 
 spirit, if thou canst, with these tender, yet futile tributes 
 of regret; but take warning by the bitterness of this thy 
 contrite affliction over the dead, and henceforth be more 
 faithful and affectionate in the discharge of thy duties to 
 the living." 
 
 TEARS. 
 
 There is a sadness in tears. They are not the marks of 
 weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently 
 than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of 
 overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, of unspeakable 
 love. If there were wanting any argument to prove that 
 man is not mortal, I would look for it in the strong, con- 
 vulsive emotion of the breast, when the soul has been 
 deeply agitated ; when the fountains of feeling are rising, 
 and when tears are gushing forth in crystal streams. 0, 
 speak not harshly of the stricken one — weeping in silence ! 
 Break not the solemnity by rude laughter, or intrusive 
 footsteps. Despise not a woman's tears — they are what 
 make her an angel. Scoff not if the stern heart of man- 
 hood . is sometimes melted to sympathy — they are what 
 help to elevate him above the brute. I love to see tears 
 of affection. They are painful tokens, but still most holy. 
 There is pleasure in tears — an awful pleasure ! If there 
 were none on earth to shed a tear for me, I should be 
 loth to live ; and if no one might weep over my grave, 
 I could never die in peace. 
 
 Tears generally tremble in our eyes when we are happy, 
 and glisten like pearls, or dew-drops on the flower cup ; 
 but when we first realize any overwhelming and unlooked 
 for happiness, we gaze round with a smile of bewildered 
 ecstacy, and no tears tremble in our eyes. The extremes 
 of joy and sorrow are too great, too deep for tears. 
 
 It is a striking fact that the dying never weep. The 
 sobbing, the heart-breaking agony of the circle of friends 
 around the death-bed, call forth no responsive tears from 
 
388 GRIEF. 
 
 the dying. Is it because he is insensible, and stiff in the 
 chill of dissolution? That cannot be, for he asks for his 
 father's hand, as if to gain strength in the mortal struggle, 
 and leans on the breast of his mother, sister or brother, 
 in still conscious affection. Just before expiring, he calls 
 the loved ones, and with quivering lips says: — "Kiss me," 
 showing that the love which he has borne in his heart is 
 still fresh and warm. It must be because the dying have 
 reached a point too deep for earthly sorrows, too tran- 
 scendant for weeping. They are face to face with higher 
 and holier things, with the Father in Heaven and His 
 angels. There is no weeping in that blessed abode to 
 which the dying man is hastening. 
 
 GRIEF. 
 
 It is true that sore affliction makes the heart sad, but 
 time will at length restore joy and serenity. As cheer- 
 fulness promotes health and adds length to days, how im- 
 portant, if grief must at any time be indulged, that the 
 proper remedy be applied to assuage it. 
 
 We find one sitting in solitude whose tearful eye and 
 sad expression, bespeak the heart under sore opposition 
 from grief. The hand of sympathy is extended, but it 
 is not recognized, and is therefore of no avail. We pass 
 on, and again meet the individual. Time has not mel 
 lowed his anguish, and taken the cloud from his brow, 
 and in place is a calmness and serenity that speak of dif- 
 ferent feelings in the heart. What remedy is there for 
 grief so effectual as Time ? 
 
 There are griefs too sacred to be babbled to the world; 
 and there may be loves which one would forbear to 
 whisper even to a friend. Real grief is not clamorous. 
 It seeks to shun every eye ; and breathes in solitude and 
 silence the sighs that come from the heart. 
 
 There is no grief without some beneficent provision to 
 soften its intenseness. We may make of grief itself a 
 fiery chariot for rising victorious over the causes of grief. 
 
MELANCHOLY. 389 
 
 The grief of some men vents itself in ferocity and not in 
 tears. The clouds of their hearts contain lightning but not 
 rain. Grieve not for that which cannot be recalled. What 
 a fine sentiment Kossuth expressed in his address at 
 Southampton, when he said, referring to his own suffer- 
 ings. " But I will not look to the past for griefs — only 
 for instruction." Theie is no greater grief, says Dante, 
 than to remember, in our misery, the happiness of the 
 past. We suffer more from anger and grief, than from 
 the very thing for which we anger and grieve. Nature 
 has assigned two sovereign remedies for human grief: 
 Religion, surest, firmest, first and best; strength to the 
 weak, and to the wounded balm; and strenuous action 
 next. 
 
 Grief humbles to the dust; but also exalts to the 
 clouds ; it shakes as with an ague, but also steadies like 
 frost ; it sickens the heart, but also sickens its infirmities. 
 
 Give to a grief a little time and it softens to regret 
 and grows beautitul at last; and we cherish it as we do 
 some old dim picture of the past. Time and thinking 
 tame the strongest grief. 
 
 Grief knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness 
 ever can ; and common sufferings are far stronger links 
 than common joys. 
 
 He who acquainteth others with his moan, 
 Adds to his friend's grief, but not cures his own. 
 
 MELANCHOLY. 
 
 If we would habituate ourselves to look upon the 
 pleasant side of things, to rejoice over what we have, 
 and grieve not for what is not, we should find ourselves 
 much more pleasantly handled than we usually are. 
 
 We conceive it to be a shame, and, when regarded in its 
 connections, a sin, to be moping about under such bright 
 skies and over such pleasant fields with " the blues" on. 
 Boys should be taught to cover up their melancholy 
 thoughts as they would bury out of sight their dead 
 
390 DESPAIR. 
 
 canaries. Girls should be educated to the notion that 
 " the demps" are not genteel, and that to be sad when 
 there are no good grounds for it, is vulgar. u Just as the 
 tree is bent," &c. A generation we hope for, who will 
 hold it a religious duty to reflect the happy face of nature 
 from their happy faces. Everything so universally wheels 
 into the right line at last, and proves that " it is all for 
 the best," that we verily believe a long face ought to be 
 put down as a nuisance in the street, and a bore within 
 doors; and if that were not sufficient to abate it, let it 
 be authoritatively announced that it will be considered 
 the black flag thrown out as a token of an evil conscience. 
 Sorrow is sacred, and grief is not always to be avoided. 
 But melancholy is a humbug, a sham, an improper thing 
 generally, and a very unpleasant mental habit. 
 
 Melancholy falls upon a contented mind like a drop of 
 ink upon white paper — which is none the less a stain be- 
 cause it carries no meaning. Melancholy attends on the 
 best joys of a merely ideal life. 
 
 DESPAIR. 
 
 Boast not thyself of to-morrow; thou knowest not what 
 a day may bring forth, and, for the same reason, despair 
 not of to-morrow, for it may bring forth good as well as 
 evil ; which is a ground for not vexing thyself with im- 
 aginary fears ; for the impending black cloud, which is 
 regarded with so much dread, may pass by harmless. 
 Beware of desperate steps; the darkest day may by to- 
 morrow have passed away. Despondency is the last of 
 all evils, it is the abandonment of all good, giving up the 
 battle of life with dead nothingness. He who can infuse 
 courage into the soul is the best physician. 
 
 The great secret of avoiding disappointment is not to 
 expect too much, Despair follows immoderate hope, as 
 things fall hardest to the ground that have been nearest 
 the sky. How many a man, by throwing himself to the 
 ground in despair, crushes and destroys a thousand 
 
DESPAIR. 391 
 
 flowers of hope that were ready to spring up and gladden 
 his pathway. With time, patience and labor, the plain 
 mulberry leaf at last becomes glossy satin. They who 
 are most weary of life, and yet are most unwilling to die, 
 are such who have lived to no purpose ; who have rather 
 breathed than lived. 
 
 There are dark hours that mark the history of the 
 brightest years. For not a whole month in any of the 
 thousand of the past, perhaps, has the sun shone brill- 
 iantly all the time. And there have been cold and 
 stormy days in every year. And yet the mists and 
 shadows of the darkest hours were dissipated, and flitted 
 heedlessly away. The crudest ol the ice fetters have 
 been broken and dissolved, and the most furious storm 
 loses it power to alarm. What a parable is all this of 
 human fear, of our inside world, where the heat works 
 at its destined labor. Here, too, we have the over- 
 shadowing of dark hours, and many a cold blast chills the 
 heart to its core. 
 
 But what matters it ? Man is born a hero, and it is 
 only by darkness and storms that heroism gains its great- 
 est and best development and illustration ; then it kindles 
 the black cloud into a blaze of glory, and the storm bears 
 it rapidly to its destiny. Despair not, then, disappoint- 
 ment will be realized. Mortifying failure may attend 
 this effort and that one ; but only be honest and struggle 
 on, and it will all work well. 
 
 What though once-supposed friends have disclaimed 
 and deserted you — fortune, the jade, deceived you — and 
 the stern tyrant, adversity, roughly asserted his despotic 
 power to trample you down? " While there's life there's 
 hope." Has detraction's busy tongue assailed thy peace, 
 and contumely's venomed shaft poisoned thy happiness, 
 by giving reputation its death blow ; — destroyed thy 
 confidence in friendly promise, and rendered thee suspi- 
 cious of selfishness in the exhibition of brotherly kindness ; 
 or the tide of public opinion well nigh overwhelmed you 
 'neath its angry waves? Never despair. Yield not to 
 the influence of sadness, the blighting power of dejection, 
 which sinks you in degrading inaction, or drives you to 
 
392 DESPAIR. 
 
 seek relief in some fatal vice, or to drown recollection in 
 the poisoning bowl. Arouse, and shake the oppressive 
 burden from overpowering thee. Quench the stings of 
 slander in the waters of Lethe — bury despondency in 
 oblivion — fling melancholy to the winds, and with firm 
 bearing and a stout heart push on to the attainment of a 
 higher goal. The open field for energetic action is large, 
 and the call for vigorous laborers immensely exceed the 
 supply. Much precious time is squandered, valuable 
 labor lost, mental activity stupefied and deadened by 
 vain regrets, useless repinings, and unavailing idleness. 
 The appeal for volunteers in the great battle of life, in 
 exterminating ignorance and error, and planting high on 
 an everlasting foundation the banner of intelligence and 
 right, is directed to you, would you but grant it audi- 
 ence. Let no cloud again darken thy spirit, or weight of 
 sadness oppress thy heart. Arouse ambition's smoldering 
 fires. The laurel may e'en now be wreathed, destined 
 to grace thy brow. Burst the trammels that impede thy 
 progress, and cling to hope. The world frowned darkly 
 upon all who have ever yet won Fame's wreath, but on 
 they toiled. Place high thy standard, and with a firm 
 tread and fearless eye press steadily onward. Persevere, 
 and thou wilt surely reach it. Are there those who 
 have watched, unrewarded, through long sorrowful 
 years, for the dawning of a brighter morrow, when the 
 weary soul should calmly rest ? Hope's bright rays still 
 illume their dark pathways, and cheerfully yet they 
 watch. Never despair ! Faint not, though thy task be 
 heavy, and victory is thine. None should despair ; God 
 can help them. None should presume ; God can cross 
 them. 
 
 In the city of Munich, kingdom of Bavaria, dwelt, 
 some sixty or seventy years ago, a young man, an actor, 
 who, in one of his performances, so utterly and com- 
 pletely failed, that the enraged and disappointed mana- 
 ger peremptorily dismissed and turned him away to earn 
 his living elsewhere. Sad, unutterably sad, and heavy 
 was the young man's heart, as he went for the last time 
 from the theater ; and well might he be so, for in a dreary 
 
DESPAIR. 393 
 
 lane toward which he now bent his footsteps, stood one 
 of those old dilapidated buildings, the abode of misery, 
 poverty, and want, within whose walls, away up in a 
 wretched garret, was all that his heart held most dear 
 There lay the corpse of his father ; there a widowed 
 mother looked up to him as her only stay and support ; there 
 waited for his coming a group of little brothers and sis- 
 ters, dependent on him for daily bread. 0, how bowed 
 down was the heart of this poor youth! With the few 
 crowns he had left in his pocket, he bought bread for the 
 hungry family, and a plain coffin for the departed. That 
 night saw him a watcher by the side of his lost father. 
 In the morning he followed his remains to a lonely grave, 
 and then wandered off to assuage, if possible his grief. 
 Strolling on the banks of a neighboring river, he thought, 
 in his despair, of throwing himself in ; but a moment's 
 thought checked him, and, shuddering at the thought of 
 the great crime he had been tempted to commit — that of 
 suicide — he fell on his knees and asked forgiveness of his 
 Heavenly Father, and prayed long and earnestly. At 
 last, quite worn out, and completely overcome by mental 
 distress and bodily fatigue, he lay down on the grass and fell 
 asleep — sleeping long and heavily. When he awoke 
 with the morning sun, the birds were singing merrily, as 
 though returning thanks to their Creator in songs of praise ; 
 the river still flowed peacefully on in its course, the trees 
 shook their leaves in the summer's breeze, and all nature 
 looked beautiful. Thanking God that he was still alive, 
 he rose to return to the city. But a small white chalk- 
 stone pebble caught his eye, and on it was an exquisite 
 tracing or outline of some little creature. Here was a 
 subject for thought and study. He examined it long and 
 attentively, and finally took it home with him. He ex- 
 perimented, and at length saw the possibility of obtain- 
 ing impressions from stone. Continuing his experiments, 
 he succeeded so well that from the little white pebble 
 finally rose the art of Lithography. His name was 
 Aloise Senefelder. Remember this, that God always helps 
 those that help themselves, that he never forsakes those 
 who are good and true, and that he heareth even the young 
 
394 TEMPTATION. 
 
 ravens when they cry. Moreover, remember too, that 
 come what may, we must never give up in life's battle, 
 but press onward to the end, always keeping in mind the 
 
 Words NEVER DESPAIR. 
 
 Despair is the death of the soul. If we will sympathize 
 with God's system of salvation, there is no occasion for 
 despondency or a feeling of condemnation, as we discover 
 our defects from time to time ; but, on the other hand, 
 of cheerful hopefulness, and confidence of this very thing, 
 that " He who hath begun a good work in us will perform 
 it until the day of Jesus Christ." 
 
 TEMPTATION. 
 
 The young man, as he passes through life, advances 
 through a long line of tempters ranged on either side of 
 him ; and the inevitable effect of yielding is degradation 
 in a greater or less degree. Contact with them tends 
 insensibly to draw away from him some portion of the 
 divine electric element with which his nature is charged ; 
 and his only mode of resisting them is to utter and to act 
 out his u No" manfully and resolutely. He must decide 
 at once, not waiting to deliberate and balance rea- 
 sons; for the youth, like "the woman who deliberates, 
 is lost." Many deliberate without deciding; but "not to 
 resolve is to resolve." A perfect knowledge of man is 
 in the prayer, " Lead us not into temptation." But temp- 
 tation will come to try the young man's strength, and 
 once yielded to, the power to resist grows weaker and 
 weaker. Yield once, and a portion of virtue is gone. 
 Resist manfully, and the first decision will give strength 
 lor life ; repeated it will become a habit. It is in the 
 outworks of the habits formed in early life that the real 
 strength of the defence must lie ; for it has been wisely 
 ordained, that the machinery of moral existence should 
 be carried on principally through the medium of the 
 habits, so as to save the wear and tear of the great prin- 
 ciples within. It is good habits, which insinuate them 
 
TEMPTATION. 395* 
 
 selves into the thousand inconsiderable acts of life, that 
 really constitute by far the greater part of man's moral con- 
 duct. That fly which has been hovering and humming 
 around our lamp for some time, to our great annoyance and 
 disturbance, and to his own manifest though seemingly 
 unperceived peril, has at length darted frantically into the 
 flame — and then follows the catastrophe; a loud singing 
 and hissing sound, and down he goes to the table, and 
 lies there on his back, a wingless and legless wretch, spin- 
 ning and buzzing, and screaming (as well as flies can 
 scream) in his torture and helplessness. It is a sad sight, 
 but it can't be helped. When we drove him away from 
 the flame, back he came to it again, and there he is. Poor 
 fellow ! its all over with him. For what is a fly good for 
 without legs or wings? Now, as he lies there writhing 
 before us, let us see if we cannot make — (last product of 
 folly and misery) — a moral out of him. Here it is : Be- 
 ware of temptation I What is that brilliant light into which 
 you are gazing with charmed eyes, and round which you 
 are careering in circles which grow less with every revo- 
 lution ? It is the fire of passion. Whether it be drink 
 or gaming, or any of the many forms of coarse and low 
 excitement, — if you continue to gaze into it, and hover 
 round it, you will presently fling yourself into it with frantic 
 abandonment, and then you will fall from the flame, like 
 that poor fly, without limbs to work or wings to soar — 
 despoiled of every useful energy, every noble aspiration 
 — a mere scorched and wretched remnant of a man. 
 Many a gay and gaudy fly has had his legs and wings 
 scorched off in one night's careering around the lights on 
 the gaming-table. Others have found the same fate in 
 the sparkling flow of the wine-cup, or in the maddening 
 excitement of the midnight revel, or the eye of woman, 
 fallen from virtue, and acquiring, in her deep degradation, 
 at once the malignity and the power of a demon. All 
 these belong, thus far, to the same category with this 
 poor insect on my table — (for, now I see, his buzzing and 
 spinning has ceased— he is still and dead). They, too, 
 are dazzled to death ! Break away, then, from the charmed 
 circle. Shut your eyes and turn your back to the fatal 
 
396 TEMPTATION. 
 
 fascination. One manly effort, and you are your own 
 master again. Go forth into the pure, cool, wholesome 
 air. Sober your senses, brace up your energies by useful 
 toil and innocent enjoyments. The world is full of them. 
 Home, nature, the pursuit of knowledge, any career of 
 honorable exertion, minister excitements which are as 
 wholesome as they are pleasurable. They prolong life 
 while they cheer and ennoble it. The ways of wisdom 
 are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. 
 She is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her. 
 Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left hand 
 riches and honors. 
 
 The path is smooth that leadeth to danger. Beware 
 lest thou be led into temptation. There is a charm in 
 danger, a fascination in the look of death, which often 
 allures brave men from the path of duty. Men and 
 women are often er ruined by brilliancy than by dullness. 
 If sinners entice thee, consent thou not. If you cannot 
 resist sin, then avoid temptation. 
 
 He who avoids temptation avoids the sin. 
 
 He that would not fall into temptation must have a 
 presence of mind, a watchful eye over himself; he must 
 have great things in view, distinguish betwixt time and 
 eternity; or else he will follow what passion, not what 
 reason and religion, suggest. Despise not little tempta- 
 tions; rightly met they have often nerved the character 
 for some fiery trial. Keep yourself from opportunities, 
 and God will keep you from sins. The difference be- 
 tween those whom the world esteems as good, and those 
 whom it condemns as bad, is in many cases that the for- 
 mer have been better sheltered from temptation. John 
 Newton says: "Satan seldom comes to a Christian with 
 great temptations, or with a temptation to commit a great 
 sin. You bring a green log and a candle together, and 
 they are very safe neighbors ; but bring a few shavings 
 and set them alight, and then bring a few small sticks 
 and let them take fire, and the log be in the midst of 
 them, and you will soon get rid of your log. And so it 
 is with your little sins. You will be staitled with the 
 idea of committing a great sin, and so the devil brings 
 
TEMPTATION. 397 
 
 you a little temptation, and leaves you to indulge your- 
 self. " There is no great harm in this," " no great peril 
 in that," and so by these little chips we are first easily 
 lighted up, and at last the green log is burned. "Watch 
 and pray that ye enter not into temptation." An intel- 
 ligent man will not yield to petty temptations like an 
 ignorant one; and great temptations do not often con- 
 quer until the moral integrity has been previously sapped 
 by minor delinquencies. Temptation assails us in every 
 form, from the low and sensual appetite working upon 
 the baser feelings of our nature, to the high and lofty, 
 but no less sinful passions of ambition, which, leaving 
 the more sordid minds as unworthy of attack, assails 
 only the noblest natures, and unless manfully with- 
 stood, but too surely causes a being but little lower than 
 the angels to sink from his proper sphere, and by the 
 abuse of his talents, prostrate his highest hopes for the 
 mere applause of man. The greatest victory of man is 
 that achieved over the difficulties and trials that beset 
 him ; and he who overcomes the worldly feelings within 
 him, is mightier than the conquerors of armies, even could 
 he subjugate the whole earth. Resist a temptation till 
 you conquer it. 
 
 We gain strength from conquering strong temptations, 
 just as the Sandwich Islander thinks that the strength and 
 valor of the enemy he kills pass into himself. 
 
 We- must never be astonished at temptations, be they 
 ever so outrageous. On this earth all is temptation. 
 Crosses tempt us by irritating our pride, and prosperity 
 by flattering it. Our life is a continual combat, but one 
 in which Jesus Christ fights for us. We must pass on 
 unmoved while temptations rage around us, as the trav- 
 eler, overtaken by a storm, simply wraps his cloak more 
 closely about him, and rushes on more vigorously toward 
 his destined home. 
 
 If you have been tempted to evil, fly from it ; it is not. 
 falling into the water, but lying in it, that drowns. 
 
 ' Tis wisdom to beware, 
 And better to avoid the bait than struggle in the snare. — Drydbjn. 
 
 If angels fell, why should not men beware. — Young. 
 
 How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds 
 Makes ill deeds done.— Shak. 
 
DEBT. 
 
 A recent philosopher discovered a method to avoid 
 'being dunned ! " How ? how ? how ?" every body asks. — 
 u Never run in debt." A man who has no bills against 
 him, belongs to the order of no-bil-i-ty, in more than one 
 sense. Debt is the worst kind of poverty. Credit never 
 permits a man to know the real value of money, nor to 
 have full control over his affairs. It presents all his ex- 
 penses in the aggregate, and not in detail. Every one 
 has more or less of the miser's love of money — of the 
 actual gold pieces and the crisp bank notes. Now, if you 
 have these things in your pocket, you see them, as you 
 make your purchases, visibly diminishing under your eye. 
 The lessening heap cries to you to stop. You would 
 like to buy this, that, and the other; but you know 
 exactly how much money you have left, and if you go on 
 buying more things, your purse will soon be empty. 
 You do not see this when you take credit. You give 
 your orders freely, without thought or calculation ; and 
 when the day of payment comes, you find that you have 
 overrun the constable. 
 
 On every hand we see people living on credit, putting 
 off pay day to the last, making in the end some desperate 
 effort, either by begging or borrowing, to scrape the 
 money together, and then struggling on again, with the 
 canker of care eating at their heart, to the inevitable 
 goal of bankruptcy. If people would only make a push 
 at the beginning, instead of the end, they would save 
 themselves all this misery. The great secret of being 
 solvent, and well-to-do, and comfortable, is to get ahead 
 of your expenses. Eat and drink this month what you 
 earned last month — not what you are going to earn next 
 month. There are, no doubt, many persons so unfortu- 
 nately situated that they can never accomplish this. No 
 man can to a certainty guard against ill health ; no man 
 can insure himself a well-conducted, helpful family, or a 
 permanent income. There will always be people who 
 
DEBT. 399 
 
 cannot help their misfortunes; but, as a rule, these un- 
 fortunates are far less trouble to society than those in a 
 better position who bring their misfortunes upon them- 
 selves by deliberate recklessness and extravagances. You 
 may help a poor, honest, struggling man to some purpose, 
 but the utmost you can do for an unthrift is thrown away. 
 You give him money you have earned by hard labor — 
 he spends it in pleasure, which you have never permitted 
 yourself to enjoy. Some people use one-half their inge- 
 nuity to get into debt, and the other half to avoid paying 
 it. An old merchant gives this sound advice: " Never 
 owe any more than you are able to pay, and allow no man 
 to owe you any more than you are able to lose." 
 
 The best pleasures — those which sweeten life most, 
 and leave no bitterness behind, — are cheap pleasures. 
 What greater pleasure can man enjoy than the sense of 
 being free and independent? The man with his fine 
 house, his glittering carriage, and his rich banquets, for 
 which he is in debt, is a slave, a prisoner, forever drag- 
 ging his chains behind him through all the grandeur of 
 the false world through which he moves. " Owe no 
 man anything," was the injunction of a Christian Apostle. 
 If we were to express the sentiment, we should prefer 
 the motto of John Randolph, "Pay as you go," because 
 it is more explicit. Owe men we must, in all the 
 courtesies and kindnesses which belong to and grace hu- 
 manity; it is a debt collateral with our being — an obliga- 
 tion of our nature — therefore the Apostle was not defi- 
 nite enough, (not that he was at fault, but rather the 
 translator,) but Randolph hit the mark when he confined 
 his maxim to debts pecuniary, which men, under the 
 present order of things, are liable to incur. He touched 
 with a healthy philosophy one of the greatest and com- 
 monest of society evils. 
 
 We take it for granted that, as a general rule, debts 
 pecuniary are contracted to be paid, sooner or later. As 
 a general rule, their burthen is least the sooner they are 
 paid. Interest, usury, dependence, law-suits and costs of 
 many kinds, that hang over standing and litigated debts, 
 add, if we could but get at their total in this country for 
 
400 DEBT. 
 
 a single year, millions of dollars to the original obliga- 
 tions. Friendships are broken over debts ; forgeries and 
 murders are committed on their account ; and, however 
 considered, they are a source of cost and annoyance — and 
 that continually. They break in everwhere upon the 
 harmonious relations of men ; they render men servile or 
 tyrannous, as they chance to be debtors or creditors; 
 they blunt sensitiveness to personal independence, and, 
 in no respect that we can fathom, do they advance the 
 general well-being. The rich have no excuse for not 
 paying as they go, and the poor depend upon the pay- 
 ments of the rich to make their own ends meet. It is a 
 shameful fact of the credit system, that the rich presume 
 upon credit, and abuse it far more than the poor. Blessed 
 will be the day when all men pay as they go. 
 
 Somebody truly says that one debt begets an other. 
 If a man owes you a dollar, he is sure to owe you a 
 grudge, too, and he is generally more ready to pay 
 interest on the latter than on the former. 
 
 Neither farmer, mechanic, nor anybody else, should run 
 up bills from week to week for food and clothing, but 
 should make a point of paying for his subsistence as he 
 may require it. The neglect of this rule is one main 
 cause of the prevalence of extravagance, overtrading 
 and general insolvency, frequently resulting in mercantile 
 bankruptcy and general revulsion. The humble culti- 
 vator who owes for half his farm and cannot turn off more 
 then two or three hundred dollars worth per annum out 
 of which one hundred dollars must be paid as interest on 
 his debt, is often tempted by the facility of obtaining 
 credit, to buy silks and satins for his wife and daughters, 
 broadcloth and fine boots for his sons, or allow them to 
 buy such for themselves on his account, when he can by 
 no means afford such expenditures. It is the duty of the 
 true merchant to resist and correct this tendency, by 
 insisting on prompt payment for all purchases, except 
 under peculiar circumstances. Cash should be the gen- 
 eral rule ; credit the rare exception. The poor man who 
 has encountered some sudden and severe calamity, such 
 as the burning of his house or the destruction of his crops 
 
DEBT. 401 
 
 by hurricane or flood, may very properly be proffered 
 credit for a season at cash prices ; so may the poor widow 
 whose children, this year at school, will be earning wages 
 and able to help her next season. But in all ordinary 
 cases the merchant, if only from a patriotic regard for 
 the general well-being, should inflexibly refuse to sell on 
 credit, since such selling is, and ever must be, to the un- 
 circumspect majority, a temptation and facility for gen- 
 eral improvidence and overtrading. Mr. President, said 
 the eccentric John Randolph, interrupting himself in one 
 of his senatorial diatribes, I have discovered the Philoso- 
 pher's stone ! It consists of four short words of homely 
 English — Pay as you go ! 
 
 Traders are sometimes so eager to get customers, and 
 so fearful that rival houses will get a portion of their 
 trade, that they give credit to Tom, Dick, and Harry, 
 and " take the risk" of getting their pay. When a man 
 wants credit, you should question him closely and point- 
 edly as to his present position, capital, and means, write 
 down his replies, require him to sign the statement, and 
 then, if at all, sell him the goods he wants, on that state- 
 ment. If, under such circumstances, he deceives you, 
 you can proceed against him for fraud, and turn the 
 thumbscrews on him until he pays your bill. A mer- 
 chant, jobber, or importer, who is weak enough to sell 
 goods to unsafe men, on credit, because he is afraid some 
 rival will u get his custom away," deserves to be a loser. 
 
 General Jackson remarked, that "men who do business 
 on borrowed capital ought to fail." Though this hard- 
 hearted maxim has been denounced beyond measure, it 
 certainly has the sanction of Providence, for they nearly 
 all do fail. The statistics of General Dearborn show that 
 out of every hundred men who do a credit business, 
 ninety-seven become bankrupt. Famous financiers are 
 especially certain to fail. We never knew one, from Nich- 
 olas Biddle down, who did not finally run out. The 
 really shrewd and thrifty men, such as A. T. Stewart and 
 James Gordon Bennett, never have any occasion to bor- 
 row money — to financier. Financiering is simple — and 
 they are simple who practice it. 
 
402 DEBT. 
 
 kt Of what a hideous progeny of ill, "says Douglas JerrolcL 
 u is debt the father! What meanness, what invasions of 
 self-respect, what cares, what double-dealing! How in 
 due season, it will carve the frank, open face into wrinkles; 
 how like a knife it will stab the honest heart. And then 
 its transformations. How it has been known to change 
 a goodly face into a mask of brass; how with the evil 
 custom of debt, has the true man become a callous trick- 
 ster! A freedom from debt, and what nourishing sweet- 
 ness may be found in cold water ; what toothsomeness 
 in a dry crust ; what ambrosial nourishment in a hard egg ! 
 Be sure of it, he who dines out of debt, though his meal 
 be a biscuit and an onion, dines in " The Apollo." And 
 then, for raiment, what warmth in a threadbare coat, if 
 the tailor's receipt be in your pocket ! what Tyrian purple 
 in the faded waistcoat, the vest not owed for ; how glossy 
 the well worn hat, if it covers not the aching head of a 
 debtor ! Next the home sweets, the out door recreation 
 of the free man. The street door falls not a knell on his 
 heart ; the foot of the staircase, though he lives on the 
 third pair, sends no spasms through his anatomy; at the 
 rap of his door he can crow " come in," and his pulse 
 still beats healthfully, his heart sinks not in his bowels. 
 See him abroad! How he returns look for look with any 
 passenger ; how he saunters ; now meeting an acquaint- 
 ance, he stands and gossips, but then this man knows no 
 debt ; debt that casts a drug in the richest wine ; that 
 makes the food of the gods unwholesome, indigestible ; 
 that sprinkles the banquets of a Lucullus with ashes, and 
 drops soot in the soup of an emperor ; debt that like the 
 moth, makes valueless furs and velvets, enclosing the 
 wearer in a festering prison, (the shirt of Nessus was a 
 shirt not paid for;) debt that writes upon frescoed halls 
 the handwriting of the attorney ; that puts a voice of 
 terror in the knocker; that makes the heart quake at the 
 haunted fireside; debt, the invisible demon that walks 
 abroad with a man, now quickening his steps, now making 
 him look on all sides like a hunted beast, and now bring- 
 ing to his face the ashy hue of death as the unconscious 
 passenger looks glancingly upon him ! Poverty is a bit- 
 
DEBT. 403 
 
 ter draught, yet may, and sometimes can with advantage, 
 be gulped down. Though the drinker makes wry faces, 
 there may, after all, be a wholesome goodness in the cup. 
 But debt, however courteously it may be offered, is the 
 cup of Syren ; and the wine, spiced and delicious though 
 it be, is poison. The man out of debt, though with a 
 flaw in his jerkin, a crack in his shoe leather, and a hole 
 in his hat, is still the son of liberty, free as the singing 
 lark above him ; but the debtor, although clothed in the 
 utmost bravery, what is he but a serf out upon a holiday 
 — a slave to be reclaimed at any instant by his owner, 
 the creditor ? My son, if poor, see wine in the running 
 spring ; see thy mouth water at a last week's roll ; think 
 a threadbare coat the only wear ; and acknowledge a 
 whitewashed garret the fittest housing place for a gentle- 
 man ; do this, and flee debt. So shall thy heart be at 
 rest and the sheriff confounded." 
 
 Of all the safeguards that young men can provide 
 themselves with, we know of none that is a prophylactic 
 against more troubles than a rule firmly laid down, and 
 resolutely adhered to, never to go in debt. It will re- 
 quire no small amount of courage and self-denial to live 
 up to it ; but, in the end, the result will compensate for 
 all troubles and sacrifices. The rule will bring its own 
 reward. It is the easiest thing in the world to get in 
 debt; it is one of the hardest things in the world to get 
 out after once getting in ; and it is a task of no small dif- 
 ficulty to keep out. John Randolph said that the philos- 
 opher's stone was comprised in the words; " Pay as you 
 go ;" and it is certain that if the rule were made an in- 
 flexible law in ordinary human dealings, it would bring 
 more peace and comfort to mankind than all the elixirs, 
 transmuters, solvents and stones that are likely to be 
 found in the alchemist's alembic. Keeping out of debt 
 is not so much a positive advantage as it is a protection 
 against incalculable disadvantages — though the emphatic 
 satisfaction and freedom which a debtless man feels in 
 daily contrasting his condition with those who are embar- 
 rassed with obligations is not to be lightly thought of. 
 These troubles of a debtor are myriad, and they assail 
 
404 DEBT. 
 
 their victim every hour of the day. They turn his youth 
 into age before its time ; they make him thoughtful and 
 anxious when he should be gay and cheerful; they take 
 the light out of his eye, and the bloom out of his cheek ; 
 they obtrude a spector into all his enjoyments; they re- 
 mind him that he is laboring for another than himself, 
 and that the fruits of his labor are not his own. His 
 honest sweat belongs to another; his triumphs and suc- 
 cess must be shared by some one else ; his hands and 
 head are mortgaged ; in short, he is half a slave. The in- 
 terest on his debts never slumbers ; it goes on accumulat- 
 ing every hour of the day, and night, and every day of 
 the week, through sickness, misfortune and idleness, with 
 the pitilessness of an inexorable enemy ; and even when 
 the poor debtor has succeeded in keeping even with the 
 interest, the principal remains in its original bulk, unre- 
 duced a single dollar. A man in debt never knows what 
 he is worth, nor how he is getting along ; he is liable to a 
 constant delusion. He imagines he is properous, when 
 he is succeeding in making money for another. He im- 
 agines he owns the home his family live in, when, in fact, 
 it may belong to some one else; and he cherishes the 
 fond fraud on himself till the remorseless mortgage, or 
 deed of trust comes and sweeps all away. Good credit 
 is a treasure ; but the chief advantage of it is in having 
 it, not using it. Any person, whether rich or poor, 
 whether employer or employed, whether living in the 
 city or country, that cherishes a desire to enjoy anything 
 which he or she has not fairly and squarely earned the 
 right to enjoy, is doomed to unrest, infelicity, discomfort 
 and unhappiness in this world, and a sharp chance for a 
 residence in the torrid zone of the future. There is no 
 discount on this — not a mill, not a moment. Let the 
 reader look honestly into his or her own heart and life 
 and experience thus far in the world, and see how abso- 
 lutely and relentlessly true this is. 
 
 We read a few years since in the Buffalo Express, the 
 following : A friend called upon us yesterday morning, 
 and paid a small balance due with this remark :— u I have 
 watched with peculiar interest the late trial of Prof. Web- 
 
DEBT. 405 
 
 ster for the murder of Dr. Parkman — I have read the tes- 
 timony attentively and carefully to satisfy myself of the 
 guilt or innocence of the accused, and of the motive 
 which prompted the act, if guilt should be established. 
 The man has been convicted. His trouble and disgrace 
 has been brought upon him by being in debt. I have 
 firmly resolved, as God will aid me in the effort, to owe 
 no man anything." We were struck with the impression 
 this lesson had made upon the mind, and could but se- 
 cretly and fervently wish that its teachings might become 
 universally effective. "Pay as you go," is a golden 
 maxim. Eschew tea, coffee, tobacco, new dresses, new 
 coats, new carriages and everything in the line of luxu- 
 ries, until you can pay ready money. Money cheapens 
 everything. It is a great economizer. You think twice 
 and buy cheap with the ready cash. People who run 
 store debts, buy thoughtlessly many things not needed, 
 and at high prices. Owe no man anything. 
 
 Mr. Spurgeon tells this of his early life : 
 
 " When I was a very small boy, in pinafores, and went 
 to a woman's school, it so happened that I wanted a slate- 
 pencil, and had no money to buy it with. I was afraid 
 of being scolded for losing my pencils so often, for I was 
 a careless little fellow, and so did not care to ask at home ; 
 what, then, was I to do? There was a little shop in the 
 place, where nuts, tops, cakes, and balls, were sold by 
 old Mrs. Dearson; and sometimes I had seen boys and 
 girls get trusted by the old lady. I argued with myself 
 that Christmas was coming, and that somebody or other 
 would be sure to give me a penny then, and perhaps 
 even a whole silver sixpence. I would, therefore, go into 
 debt for a slate-pencil, and be sure to pay at Christmas. 
 I did not feel easy about it, but still I screwed my cour- 
 age up, and went into the shop. One farthing was the 
 amount; and as I had never owed anything before, and 
 my credit was good, the pencil was handed over by the 
 kind dame, and I was in debt. It did not please me 
 much, and I felt as if I had dome wrong ; but I little knew 
 how soon I should smart for it. How my father came to 
 hear of this little stroke of business I never knew, but 
 
406 DEBT. 
 
 some little bird or other whistled it to him, and he was 
 very soon down upon me in right earnest. God bless 
 him for it ; he was a sensible man, and none of your chil- 
 dren-spoilers ; he did not intend to bring up his children 
 to speculate, and play at what big rogues call financiering, 
 and he therefore knocked my getting into debt on the 
 head at once, and no mistake. He gave me a very pow- 
 erful lecture upon getting into debt, and how like it was 
 to stealing, and upon the way in which people were ru- 
 ined by it; and how a boy who would owe a farthing 
 might one day owe a hundred pounds, and get into prison, 
 and bring his family to disgrace. It was a lecture, indeed ; 
 I think I can hear it now, and feel my ears tingling at the 
 recollection of it. Then I marched off to the shop, like 
 a deserter marched into barracks, crying bitterly all down 
 the street, and feeling dreadfully ashamed, because I 
 thought everybody knew that I was in debt. The farth- 
 ing was paid amid many solemn warnings, and the poor 
 debtor was set free, like a bird out of a cage. How 
 sweet it felt to be out of debt ! How did my little heart 
 vow and declare that nothing should tempt me into debt 
 again! It was a fine lesson, and I have never forgotten it." 
 
 It makes a great difference whether you put Dr. before 
 or after a man's name. 
 
 The proverb says that "an empty bag cannot stand 
 upright ;" neither can a man who is in debt. Debt makes 
 everything a temptation. It lowers a man in self-respect, 
 places him at the mercy of his tradesmen and his servant, 
 and renders him a slave in many respects, for he can no 
 longer call himself his own master, nor boldly look the 
 world in the face. It is also difficult for a man who is in 
 debt, to be truthful, hence it is said that lying rides on 
 debt's back. The debtor has to frame excuses to his 
 creditor, for postponing payment of the money he owes 
 him ; and probably also to contrive falsehood. It is easy 
 enough for a man who will exercise a healthy resolution, 
 to avoid incurring the first obligation ; but the facility 
 with which that has been incurred often becomes a temp- 
 tation to a second ; and very soon the unfortunate bor- 
 rower becomes so entangled that no late exertion of in- 
 
DEBT. 407 
 
 dustry can set him free. The first step in debt is like the 
 first step in falsehood; almost involving the necessity of 
 proceeding in the same course, debt after debt, as lie fol- 
 lows lie. Hayden the painter, dated his decline from the 
 day on which he first borrowed money. He realized the 
 truth of the proveVb, "Who goes a-borrowing, goes a- 
 sorrowing." The significant entry in his diary is: "Here 
 began debt and obligation, out of which I have never 
 oeen and never shall be extricated as long as I live." Dr. 
 Johnson held that early debt is ruin. His words on the 
 subject are weighty, and worthy of being held in remem- 
 brance. "Do not," said he, "accustom yourself to con- 
 sider debt only as an inconvenience; you will find it a 
 calamity. Poverty takes away so many means of doing 
 good, and produces so much inability to resist evil, both 
 natural and moral, that it is by atl virtuous means to be 
 avoided. Let it be your first care, then, not to be in any 
 man's debt. Resolve not to be poor ; whatever you have, 
 spend less. Poverty is a great enemy to human happi- 
 ness ; it certainly destroys liberty ; and it makes some vir- 
 tues impracticable and others extremely difficult. Fru- 
 gality is not only the basis of quiet, but of beneficence. 
 No man can help others that wont help himself; we must 
 have enough before we have to spare." 
 
 It is the bounden duty of every man to look his affairs 
 in the face, and to keep an account of his incomings and 
 outgoings in money-matters. The exercise of a little 
 simple arithmetic in this way will be found of great value. 
 Prudence requires that we shall pitch our scale of living 
 a degree below our means, rather than up to them ; but 
 this can only be done by carrying out faithfully a plan 
 of living by which both ends may be made to meet. 
 " Nothing," said Locke, " is likelier to keep a man within 
 compass than having constantly before his eyes the state 
 of his affairs in a regular course of account." Said the 
 Duke of Wellington, " I make it a point of paying my 
 own bills, and I advise every one to do the same; for- 
 merly I used to trust a confidential servant to pay them, 
 but I was cured of that folly by receiving one morning 
 to my great surprise, duns of a year or two's standing. 
 
408 DEBT. 
 
 The fellow had speculated with my money, and left my 
 bills unpaid." Talking of debt, his remark was, "It 
 makes a slave of a man. I have often known what it 
 was to be in want of money, but I never got into debt." 
 Washington was one of the most particular persons in 
 matters of business detail; and it is a* remarkable fact, 
 that he did not disdain to scrutinize the smallest outgo- 
 ings of his household — determined as he was to live hon- 
 estly within his means — even while holding the high 
 office of President of the United States. 
 
 A British Admiral, (Earl St. Vincent,) has told the 
 following story of his early struggles, and determination 
 to keep out of debt : " My father had a very large family, 
 said he, "with limited means. He gave me twenty 
 pounds at starting, and that was all he ever gave me. 
 After I had been a considerable time at the station (at 
 sea), I drew for twenty more, but the bill came back pro- 
 tested. I was mortified at this rebuke, and made a 
 promise, which I have kept, that I would never draw an- 
 other bill without a certainty of its being paid. I imme- 
 diately changed my mode of living, quitted my mess, 
 lived alone, and took up the ship's allowance, which I 
 found quite sufficient; washed and mended* my own 
 clothes; made a pair of trousers out of the ticking of 
 my bed; and having by these means saved as much 
 money as would redeem my honor, I took up my bill ; 
 and from that time to this I have taken care to keep 
 within my means." For six years he endured pinching 
 privation, but preserved his integrity, studied his profes- 
 sion with success, and gradually and steadily rose by 
 merit and bravery to the highest rank. Samuel Drew 
 thus describes his first lesson in economy : " When I was 
 a boy, I somehow got a few pence, and coming into St. 
 Austell on a fair day, laid all out on a purse. My empty 
 purse then reminded me of my folly; and the recollec- 
 tion has since been as useful to me as Franklin's whistle 
 was to him." 
 
 Sir Charles Napier held that the habit of being con- 
 stantly in debt made men grow callous to the proper feel- 
 ings of a gentleman. Says D'Israeli, " If youth but knew 
 
DEBT. 409 
 
 the fatal misery that they are entailing on themselves, 
 the moment they accept a pecuniary credit, to which they 
 are not entitled, how they would start in their career! 
 how pale they would turn ! how they would tremble, and 
 clasp their hands in agony, at the precipice on which 
 they are disporting! Debt is the prolific mother of folly 
 and crime ; it taints the course of life in all its streams. 
 Hence so many unhappy marriages, so many prostituted 
 pens, and venal politicians ! It hath a small beginning, 
 but a giant growth and strength. When we make the 
 monster, we make our master, who haunts us at all hours, 
 and shakes his whip of scorpions forever in our sight. 
 The slave hath no overseer so severe. Faustus, when he 
 signed the bond with blood, did not secure a doom so 
 terrible. 
 
 That feeling of over-due bills, of bills coming due, of 
 accounts overdrawn, of tradesmen unpaid, of general 
 money cares, is very dreadful at first, but it is astonishing 
 how soon men get used to it. A load which would crush 
 a man at first, becomes by habit not only endurable, but 
 easy and comfortable to the bearer. The habitual debtor 
 goes along jaunty and with elastic step, almost enjoying 
 the excitement of his embarrassments. One is almost in- 
 clined to believe that there is something pleasurable in 
 the excitement of such embarrassments, as there is also 
 in the excitement of drink. But then at last the time 
 does come when the excitement is over, and when nothing 
 but the misery is left. If there be an existence of wretch- 
 edness on earth, it must be that of the elderly, worn-out 
 roue, who has run this race of debt and bills of accommo- 
 dation and acceptances— of what, if we were not in these 
 days somewhat afraid of good, broad English, we might 
 call lying and swindling, falsehood and fraud — and who, 
 having ruined all whom he should have loved, having 
 burnt up every one who would trust him much, and 
 scorched all who would trust him a little, is at last left to 
 finish his life with such bread and water as these men get, 
 without one honest thought to strengthen his sinking 
 heart, or one honest friend to hold his shivering hand ! 
 If a man could only think of that as he puts his name to 
 
410 DEBT. 
 
 the first little bill, as to which he is so good-naturedly 
 assured that it can easily be renewed ! 
 
 He that once owes more than he can pay, is often 
 obliged to bribe his creditor to patience by increasing 
 his debt. Worse and worse commodities, at a higher and 
 higher price, are forced upon him; he is impoverished 
 by compulsive traffic, and at last overwhelmed in the com- 
 mon receptacles of misery, by debts which, without his 
 own consent, were accumulated on his head. Never go 
 in debt. Credit is the great evil of the age. It is the 
 financial plague which every now and then decimates the 
 world of business. The ease with which an exaggerated 
 credit can be maintained, leads to reckless speculation ; 
 and how often that worst species of gaming leads to ruin, 
 disgrace and suicide. It is an old saying, but none the 
 less valuable, that ready money is a ready medicine. How 
 much it can relieve of human grief! How many obliter- 
 ate of human afflictions ! None know the value of ready 
 money so profoundly as he who has forever lived within 
 the suffocating atmosphere of incessant debt. None en- 
 joy so proudly the pure sovereignty of individual inde- 
 pendence as he who ever uses the authority of ready cash, 
 and resists the temptation to enter the gaudy and intoxi- 
 cating world of debt. The grand object of most men's 
 exertions is to grow rich. Some are more enamored of art, 
 and some of science. Some yield themselves up to a 
 delicious dream of fame, and some to the laborious pur- 
 suit of metaphysical phantoms. But wealth is the deity 
 idoiatrously worshipped by man, in the mass ; and wealth 
 and credit are, in some minds, indissolubly associated as 
 reciprocating motors in the machinery of trade. u Give 
 us credit," they exclaim, "and we have capital." Very 
 true; they have the capital of others. Every dollar's 
 worth for which you owe, is a dollar borrowed from 
 somebody else to contribute to the sum on which you do 
 business for yourself ; but oh ! the days of care — -the nights 
 of thought — the hours of anguish you endure, lest, build- 
 ing on so precarious a foundation, the storm of a moment 
 may not topple about your feet the structure of toilsome 
 years. On the contrary, the man of cash entertains no 
 
DEBT. 411 
 
 such apprehensions. Appreciating the value of his little 
 hoard, he indulges in no magnificent illusions. He con- 
 templates everything through the serener medium of a 
 cool and careful judgment. He struggles slowly, but 
 surely, up the steep hill of affluence ; and if he never re- 
 alizes, till the end, any of the golden hours of inebriate 
 exultation, he escapes, at the same time, all the sombre 
 ones of crucified hope and self-invited despair. Never 
 go in debt! That is the safe man's motto. It points the 
 road to fortune. It indicates a road full, perhaps, of pri- 
 vations for a time, but exempt from all those embarrass- 
 ments which dog the footsteps of the victim of credit,, 
 harrass his mind, dampen his energies, weigh down his 
 spirit of enterprise, and crowd his way with innumerable 
 obstacles, separately of little moment, but in the aggre- 
 gate, painfully exhausting. It is not an easy matter for 
 an ambitious heart to march contentedly in the rear of 
 the rushing, leaping, excited multitude, and sturdily 
 refuse to avail itself of the inebriating draught held out 
 to every lip in the Circean cup of credit. But "they 
 stumble who run fast." The reaction to all this over- 
 excitement must have its turn; and when it comes, the 
 bounding crowd lag wearily along overcome with a 
 weariness the result of their own wild and superfluous 
 vivacity; while plodding sobriety, so long overlooked in 
 the background, advances with vigorous foot, and passes 
 triumphantly on to the goal, in advance of all competi- 
 tors. In the race for success, he who eschews all indebt- 
 edness runs lightly, and is prepared for a laborious 
 contest, in view of the importance of the prize. He who 
 accepts credit only fills his pockets with so many stones; 
 and carrying weight, either breaks down before he attains 
 the winning-post, or only reaches it by a double consump- 
 tion of power and vitality. So never go in debt ! Debt is a 
 species of enslavement, and, as such, an evil to be shunned 
 — often a "crying evil." Let all, who can, avoid it as 
 they would the pestilence. 
 
 To have paid one's debts, is a great comfort. Out of 
 debt, out of danger. Pecuniary dependence naturally 
 degrades the mind, and depraves the heart. Our debts 
 
412 DEBT. 
 
 and our sins, says Franklin, are generally greater than 
 we think for. It is not so painfu] for an honest man to 
 want money as it is to owe it. Never associate with a 
 man who never pays his debts. "If a fellow wont pay, 
 his company wont." Remember this — No man can ever 
 borrow himself out of debt. If you wish for relief, you 
 must work for it. You must make more and spend less, 
 than you did while you were running in debt. The bor- 
 rower is servant to the lender. Never borrow more than 
 the lender is willing to lose if you cannot repay it. And 
 never borrow anything except in a case of most extreme 
 necessity. Don't let the notion that you might do a 
 great deal better business if you only had a few more 
 hundreds of capital, tempt you into borrowing or hiring 
 money which you may never be able to return. It may 
 seem to you next to impossible that you should not be 
 able to double and treble the money long before the time 
 for payment comes, but as long as you know that it is 
 not impossible, don't you risk it ; unless, as was said be- 
 fore, your lender is willing to oblige you and take what- 
 ever consequences may follow. The more independent 
 you can be in money matters, the happier and more of a 
 man you will be. It is a thousand times better to com- 
 mence life on a dollar business, or in as small a way as 
 u The Little Wool Merchant" of admirable memory did, 
 who laid the foundation of a large fortune by hunting on 
 the moors for locks of wool which the bushes had torn 
 from the sheep, than to start on a large borrowed capital. 
 Of course there are some men who do so start that are 
 successful, and soon pay principal and interest of the 
 borrowed sum, but the risks are very great. When you 
 consider that hardly one man in ten prospers in business, 
 how can you presume that you shall be the fortunate 
 one? and if you be not, what a miserable addition to the 
 burden of your ill-luck will be debt. Keep clear of it 
 by all practicable means. For if you do not, one of two 
 things will certainly befall you, unless you prosper and 
 can pay up. You will live all your days in shame and 
 annoyance because of that debt, or your moral sense and 
 your manly character will be lowered and undermined. 
 
FAILURE. 413 
 
 You will cease to be respectable or respected. What- 
 ever your means are, if they will sustain life, let it be 
 your effort to live within them. If you want to do so, 
 and your wife don't want to, your case is certainly a hard 
 one ; but you must play the man now, or you are gone, 
 lost overboard, and you will never see land more. Stand 
 by the right, no matter where it hurts you. Don't let 
 the tears and poutings of a Circe prevail against you. If 
 she says, " You don't love me, or you would never ask 
 me to come down to such mean living; I never would 
 have married you if I had not thought you could support 
 me," swallow the bitter pill the best way you can, but 
 don't budge from your position. Honor and the right 
 should be dearer than the wife or child. A man whose 
 wife takes that position has a hard road to walk, and in 
 all probability his heart's blood will mark it. One thing 
 is sure, if your wife don't love you well enough to share 
 your fortune, whether good or ill, and to try and encour- 
 age you in all that is your duty, she did not love you 
 well enough to marry you, and she is an unworthy wife. 
 But where there is one such woman there are a hundred 
 others who are true helpmeets for their husbands, and 
 who will hold up both hands to the aspiration and the 
 sentiment, "Even though we must struggle long with 
 want and hardship, let us keep out of debt." 
 
 FAILURE. 
 
 The world is full of experiments and consequently is 
 full of failures. It could not be well otherwise. Noth- 
 ing truly great is the product of instant suggestion. 
 It is usually the result of painfully slow, but important 
 accretions of intelligence. When complete it is a com- 
 bined series of successive improvements, the contribution 
 of many minds, even though a>l be filtered through a 
 single idea, devoted in every respect to the reduction of 
 differing elements to a homogeneous mass. In this pro- 
 gressive motion, how many a wayward step must be ex- 
 
414 FAILURE 
 
 pected! How many a brilliant thought, led astray by some 
 glittering ignus fatuus, falls headlong into some slough 
 of despond, or sinks in despair at the verge of some im- 
 passable precipice ! But other brilliant thoughts catch 
 up the thread of light at the point of departure, and 
 carry it on until they, too, become bewildered and wander 
 off; when, still others grasp the quivering line at its criti- 
 cal mark, and exultingly follow it up to its glorious ter- 
 mination. This is the history, alas! of almost every 
 noble invention, although, in pity to the world of sanguine 
 hope, custom blinds us to all but the incipient gropings 
 in the dark, and the god-like emergence of the victor into 
 the broad, noon-day sunbeam of complete success. Ex- 
 perientia docet — there is no instructor like misfortune. It 
 teaches us what to avoid. And the fatal error in every 
 attempt to carry out an original conception, is the dispo- 
 sition to yield to some one or more of the ten thousand 
 fanciful chimeras which obtrude themselves as aux- 
 iliaries in the work, and little by little, betra}- the ab- 
 sorbed attraction into a labarynth of petty errors and in- 
 extricable difficulties. We need never despair, then. 
 The wreck of one thought remains a monitor for the next: 
 and instead of grieving over the lost idea, we should re- 
 member how many, and still more valuable ones might 
 have been placed in peril but for such a timely warning. 
 It is said that ninety-five in a hundred of all our mer- 
 cantile men fail once at least in their business life- time, or 
 that there are few who succeed in business who have not 
 made at least one failure. What is the secret of the fre- 
 quency of failures among business men? "Overreach- 
 ing," you will probably say, — the secret ol it, in turn, 
 being a too great making of haste to get riches. No 
 doubt the secret does often lie in miscalculation and mis- 
 management in the counting-room and the storehouse, 
 including all the evils of borrowing and endorsing with- 
 out judgment or discretion. But we think a full investi- 
 gation — if it were allowable — would demonstrate that the 
 difficulty often lies in quite a different quarter, viz : in the 
 extravagantly provided home of the bankrupt, and the 
 needless expenditures of his family. It is always much 
 
FAILURE. 415 
 
 more difficult for a business man to pay the debts con- 
 tracted by his wife and daughters than those contracted 
 by himself. The latter, being within the regular pro- 
 gramme of trade, are provided for, while the former are 
 not thought of, perhaps, till the bills are presented and 
 payment is urged. In other words, — it is the surprise of 
 these outside liabilities which renders them so embarrass- 
 ing. If provided for they would have been merest trifles 
 and paid as such. Now, they become serious annoyances, 
 interfering with the payment of notes, and ultimately 
 proving so much poison to his credit and his comfort. 
 The prudent wife and daughter of the merchant and the 
 manufacturer consider these things, and so become helps, 
 instead of hindrances, to even the operations oi business 
 life! 
 
 But there are other causes of failure. An ambition to 
 be rich. Aversion to labor. An impatient desire to en- 
 joy the luxuries of life before the right to them has been 
 acquired in any way. The want of some better principle 
 for the distinguishing between right and wrong, than ref- 
 erence merely to what is established as honorable in the 
 society in which he happens to live. 
 
 The man who never failed is a mvth. Such a one 
 never lived, and is never likely to. All success is a series 
 of efforts, in which, when closely viewed, are seen more 
 or less failures. If you fail now and then, do not be dis- 
 couraged. Bear in mind it is only the part and expe- 
 rience of every successful man; and the most successful 
 men often have the most failures. Yes, if we have the 
 right stuff in us, these failures at the outset are grand 
 materials for success. To the feeble they are, of course, 
 stumbling blocks. The wretched weakling goes no 
 farther ; he lags behind, and subsides into a life of failure. 
 And so by this winnowing process the number of the 
 athletes in the great Olympics of life is restricted to a 
 few, and there is clear space in the arena. There is 
 scarcely an old man among us — an old and successful 
 man — who will not willingly admit that he was made by 
 failures, and that what he once thought his hard fate, was 
 in reality his good fortune. And thou, my child, thou 
 
416 FAILURE. 
 
 that thinkest thou can'st carry Parnassus by storm, learn 
 to possess thyself in patience. Not easy the lesson, I 
 know; not cheering the knowledge that success is not 
 attainable, by a hop, step and a jump, but by arduous 
 passages of gallant perseverance, toilsome efforts long 
 sustained, and most of all, by repeated failures. Hard, 
 T know, is that last word, grating harshly upon the ear of 
 youth. Say, then, that we mollify it a little, — that we 
 strip it of its outer crustaceousness and asperity ; and 
 truthfully may we do so. For these failures are, as I have 
 said, but stepping-stones to success ; — at the worst, non- 
 attainments of the desired end before thy time. If sue 
 cess were to crown thine efforts now, where would be the 
 great success ot the hereafter ? It is the brave resolu- 
 tion to u do better next time" that lays the subtrate of 
 all real greatness. Many a promising reputation has been 
 destroyed by early success. The good sap runs out from 
 the trunk into feeble offshoots or suckers. The hard dis- 
 cipline of the knife is wanted. I repeat that it is not 
 pleasant; but when thou feelest the sharpness of the 
 edge, think that all who have gone before thee have been 
 lacerated in like manner. 
 
 It is far from being true, in the progress of knowledge, 
 that after every failure we must recommence from the be- 
 ginning. Every failure is a step to success; every de- 
 tection of what is false directs us towards what is true ; 
 every trial exhausts some tempting form of error. Not 
 only so ; but scarcely any attempt is entirely a failure ; 
 scarcely any theory, the result of steady thought, is 
 altogether false ; no tempting form of error is without 
 some latent charm derived from truth. 
 
 Doubtless a deeper feeling of individual responsibility, 
 and a better adaptation of talent to its fields of labor, 
 are necessary to bring about a better state of society, 
 and a better condition for the individual members of it. 
 But with the most careful adaptation of talent and means 
 to pursuits, no man can succeed, as a general principle, 
 who has not a fixed and resolute purpose in his mind, 
 and an unwavering faith that he can carry that purpose 
 out. It is the taking hold of the plough and looking 
 
FAILURE. 417 
 
 back at the furrow, instead of forward to the unbroken 
 sod, that causes so many failures. There is, with a great 
 majority of men, a want of constancy in whatever plans 
 they undertake. They toil as though they doubted that 
 life had earnest and decided pathways; as though there 
 was no compass but the shifting winds, with each of 
 which they must change their course. Thus they beat 
 about on tne ocean of time, but never cross it, to rest on 
 delightful islands or mainlands. Those who are familiar 
 with the Scottish history will remember the incident which 
 inspired the faltering Bruce to become the saviour of his 
 country. Lying in a shed, despairing over his fate, he 
 saw a spider striving to reach the ceiling by a slender 
 web. Again and again the resolute insect struggled up 
 and fell backward. But the ceiling was its desired goal, 
 and it returned each time with greater vigor to the trial. 
 Obstacles only stimulated it, and at length it triumphed. 
 The despairing Bruce made the faithful instinct of the 
 spider his lesson — it gave him a new inspiration, and he 
 went forth to beat back the Saxon invaders, to triumph 
 over England, and to become a hero and a king. It is 
 this spirit of earnest, hopeful and constant faith that man 
 wants in pursuing the object he has set before him. His 
 motto must be " There is no such word as fail." No man 
 ever rose to fortune, or to fame, save chance exceptions, 
 scarcely creditable in themselves — without encountering 
 obstacles, and at times almost despairing of his toil. It 
 is the great virtue and glory of life to buffet the wave 
 and breast the storm, and he who does it with a good 
 purpose is surely rewarded. Suppose Columbus had 
 yielded to the mutinous spirit, around him, in his search 
 for a new hemisphere — suppose the mariner, with his 
 sails bent for gold coasts or spice islands, was to surrender 
 to every cross current or baffling wind, would the new 
 hemisphere have been found, or the gold coasts and spice 
 islands be gained? Life, with every man, is a barque on 
 the sea of time. Every man is a voyager and has a 
 port to gain. He selects his port, and he must start with 
 undeceiving compass, and, against wind and tide, bear 
 on to that port, or he will never reach it. With 
 
 27 
 
418 REVERSES IN NEW YORK. 
 
 the brave, considerate soul there is no such word as 
 "fail." 
 
 Yet they wha fa' in fortune's strife 
 
 Their fate we should na censure, 
 For still th' important end of life 
 
 They equally may answer ; 
 A man may hae an honest heart, 
 
 Tho' poortith hourly stare him ; 
 A man may tak a neebor's part, 
 
 Yet, hae nae cash to spare him. — Burns. 
 
 REVERSES IN NEW YORK 
 
 Firms are constantly changing. Splendid mansions 
 change hands suddenly. A brilliant party is held in an 
 up-town house, the sidewalk is carpeted, and the papers 
 are lull of the brilliant reception. The next season the 
 house will be dismantled, and a family, "going into the 
 country," or "to Europe," will offer their imported fur- 
 niture to the public under the hammer. A brilliant equip- 
 age is seen in Central Park in the early part of the 
 season, holding gaily dressed ladies and some successful 
 speculators. Before the season closes some Government 
 officer or sporting man will drive that team on his own 
 account, while the gay party that called the outfit their 
 own in the early part of the season have passed away 
 forever. This grows out of the manner in which busi- 
 ness is done. There is no thrift, no forecast, no thought 
 for the morrow. A man who makes $50,000, instead of 
 settling half of it on his wife and children, throws the 
 whole into a speculation with the expectation of making 
 it a hundred thousand. A successful Dry Goods Jobber, 
 who has a balance of $75,000 to his credit in the bank, 
 instead of holding it for a wet day or a tight time, goes 
 into a little stock speculation and hopes to make a for- 
 tune at a strike. Men who have a good season launch 
 out into extravagancies and luxuries, and these, with the 
 gambling mania, invariably carry people under. 
 
 A gentlemaD, who had a very successful trade, built 
 him an extraordinary country seat in Westchester county, 
 which was the wonder of the age. His house was more 
 
A SERMON TO YOUNG MEN. 419 
 
 costly than the palace of the Duke of Buccleuch. His 
 estate comprised several acres laid out in the most expen- 
 sive manner, and the whole was encircled with gas lights, 
 several hundred in number, which were lit every evening. 
 As might have been expected with the first reverse, (and 
 it comes sooner or later to all,) the merchant was crushed, 
 and as he thought disgraced; and he was soon carried 
 to his sepulchre, the wife obliged to leave her luxurious 
 home, and by the kindness of creditors was allowed, with 
 her children, to find temporary refuge in the coachman's 
 loft in her stable. 
 
 A SERMON TO YOUNG MEN. 
 
 Genesis, 39th ch. and 3d v. "The Lord was with Jo- 
 seph, and he was a prosperous man." The secret of the 
 signal success of Joseph throughout an eventful life, was 
 that God took care of him from his youth. There is no 
 safety for any man who does not start right, in this re- 
 spect. The difference between prosperity and failure lies 
 in the pious fear of God. "I speak what I know." I 
 don't look at the world from my study window. I have 
 been down in it I I know what it is ; what its perils are, 
 where its hidden breakers are, and how many are the 
 dangers of young men. I shall point out some of the 
 critical moments in a young man's life. 
 
 That is a critical moment when he chooses his occupa- 
 tion. Then the youth should earnestly pray: God help 
 me! God grant me wisdom, guidance, light There are 
 five hundred callings, but only one for this particular 
 person ; hence there are four hundred and ninety-nine 
 chances that he will make a wrong selection ; and if he 
 mistakes here he is gone. His life will be a series of false 
 steps beginning with this one ; it will be filled up with 
 fruitless endeavors, with frustrations, with humiliating 
 failures, and it will end in disappointment, and unavailing 
 regrets. I knew a man at sixty who had passed his years 
 under the shadows of successive misfortunes ; and he con- 
 fessed that at twenty-one the Lord impressed him with 
 
420 A SERMON TO THE YOUNG. 
 
 the feeling that he ought to be a minister of the gospel 
 But he turned to secular pursuits, and the Lord let him 
 go on, and flounder to the end. I knew another who 
 had a genius for surgery, but who, after achieving early 
 successes in that line, took up the notion that he was 
 called to preach, and following that conviction, he en- 
 tered the ministry, but in every move he failed ; his way 
 was hedged about, and he had to go back to his true vo- 
 cation, as a Christian surgeon. What is the reason that 
 ninety-nine-one-hundredths who enter mercantile life fail? 
 The Lord is not consulted by them in their choice, and 
 is not sought to go with them in their pursuit. They do 
 not prosper because they rely on their own judgment, 
 and then on their business tact. It is dangerous to ven- 
 ture forth alone. It is prudent to seek advice of friends, 
 to hearken to the counsel of parents, to listen to the ex- 
 perience, to take lesson from the lips of the wise. But 
 human counsel is at least fallible. God only can be safely 
 trusted as a counsellor. It is madness to disregard His 
 will, to slight His wisdom, to reject His aid, His favor, Hk 
 presence. 
 
 It is a critical time when a young man sets up his own 
 household. It is not too much to say that when a maL 
 chooses a wife he weds for heaven or for hell, accordingly 
 as he brings into his house and heart a good influence ; if 
 it be a bad influence he will go down. The Godless 
 youth is infatuated by a fair face, and is lured to his fate 
 by a syren's smile. He takes no counsel of the Lord and 
 is left to follow his own shallow fancies or the instigations 
 of his passions. The time will surely come in his life 
 when he will not so much want a pet as a heroine. In 
 dark and trying days, when the waves of misfortune are 
 breaking over him, and one home comfort, and another, 
 and another is swept away, the piano — the Chickering 
 grand — gone to the creditors, the family turned out on 
 the side-walk by the heartless landlord, then what is the 
 wife good for if her lips that accompanied the piano in 
 song cannot lift alone the notes, "Jesus, lover of my soul," 
 &c. The strongest arm in this world is not the arm of a 
 blacksmith, nor the arm of a giant; it is the arm of a 
 
A SERMON TO YOUNG MEN. 421 
 
 woman, when God has put into it, through faith and sub- 
 mission to His will, his own moral omnipotence. If there 
 is one beautiful spot on earth, it is the home of the young 
 family consecrated by piety, the abode of the Holy Spirit, 
 above which the holering angels touch their wings, 
 forming a canopy of protection and sanctity. 
 
 Another critical time is that of the first success. It will 
 come soon or late. It will break upon the young man 
 some day and surprise him. He will leave his business 
 to go home under the exhilaration of his first success. 
 He will take his seat in the street car elated and buoyant. 
 He will see a lady enter and stand ; he will spring up and 
 give her his seat ; she will thank him ; she will be one of 
 that sort. He will bound into the hall, and his merry 
 voice will ring glad shouts from basement to attic. Soon 
 he will find himself perplexed about what to do with 
 his money, and how to adapt himself to his new circum- 
 stances. That is a critical moment! Shall he be still a 
 man or shall he be a thrall of mammon ? He may be as 
 good a Christian walking on an Axminster carpet as on the 
 bare floor of a shanty. But if he is not a Christian al- 
 ready, if the Lord is not with him in that sudden sun- 
 burst of prosperty, he is in imminent danger of falling 
 in love with money. He may, in his new-born infatuation, 
 try to make a whole caravan of camels go through the 
 eye of a needle. First success is extremely dangerous. 
 Then Godliness is indispensable to avert pride, covetous- 
 ness, vain glory and ruin. 
 
 The first trouble is a crisis in life. It may be business 
 failure. It may break up not fortune only, but character, 
 credit, and courage, and wreck the whole man for life. 
 There are gray-haired, grand-headed men now in petty 
 clerkships who were merchant-princes thirty-five years 
 ago ; but the financial crash of 1837 took them down into 
 bankruptcy, and cowed them into spiritless mediocrity. 
 They were without God in the world, and therefore had 
 no hope when the storm strewed their fortunes on the 
 rock-bound coast of ruin. "If thou faint in the day of 
 adversity, thy strength is small." If the Lord be with a 
 man when he sinks amidst the waves of adversity, he will 
 come up again and stand upon the rock. He will 
 
422 SOCIETY. 
 
 be able to say " Cast down, but not destroyed." The 
 first trouble may be bereavement. Business success is 
 often followed suddenly by family affliction. The first- 
 born may be taken. The light of the house is darkened. 
 The harp-strings of joy are all unstrung when one is 
 snapped. Then the tender hand of God is sufficient to 
 tune again the chords. 
 
 It may be sickness. The busy man, in too much haste 
 to be rich, has bankrupted his health. His physician or- 
 ders him home, he takes his bed, he has a fever, his 
 chamber is shaded, noise is shut out, the prattle of chil- 
 dren, the footstep on the stair, are hushed. In fitful 
 dreams he hears a dash of waves against his pillow; it is 
 the rolling of the waters of the Jordan ! He hears at the 
 door the pawing of a horse, pairing, pawing; it is the 
 pale horse. 0, in death you will need Jesus! To be a 
 conquerer in that last crisis of life you must have the 
 Lord, the Captain of salvation, with you. 
 
 SOCIETY. 
 
 Women and men for the first time in history are really 
 companions. Our traditions of the proper relations be- 
 tween them have descended from a time when their lives 
 were apart, when they were separate in their thoughts 
 because they were separate both in their amusements and 
 in their serious occupations. The man spent his hours 
 of leisure among men — all his friendships, all his intima- 
 cies were with men — with man alone did he converse on 
 any serious subject; the wife was either a plaything or an 
 upper servant. All this among the educated classes is 
 changed. Men no longer give up their spare time to vio- 
 lent outdoor exercises and boisterous convivialities with 
 male associates; the two sexes really pass their time 
 together; the women of the family are the man's habit- 
 ual society — the wife is his chief associate, his most con- 
 fidential friend, and often his most trusted counsellor. 
 The time is come when woman, if not raised to the level 
 
SOCIETY. 423 
 
 c men, men will be pulled down to their's. The women 
 ol a man's family are either a stimulus and support to his 
 highest aspirations, or a drag upon him. Men and wo- 
 men are really companions. If the women are frivolous, 
 the men will be frivolous. If women care for personal 
 interests and thrilling amusements, men in general will 
 care for little else. The two sexes must rise and sink 
 together. 
 
 What is it that makes all those men who associate 
 habitually with women superior to others who do not ? 
 What makes that woman who is accustomed and at ease 
 in the society of men superior to her sex in general? 
 Solely because they are in the habit of free, graceful, 
 continued conversations with the other sex. Women in 
 this way lose their frivolity, their faculties awaken, their 
 delicacies and peculiarities unfold all their beauty and 
 captivation in the spirit of intellectual rivalry. And the 
 men lose their pedantic, rude, declamatory, or sullen 
 manner. The coin of the understanding and the heart 
 changes continually. The asperities are rubbed off, their 
 better materials polished and brightened, and their rich- 
 ness, like the gold, is wrought into finer workmanship by 
 the fingers of women than it ever could be by those of 
 men. The iron and steel of their characters are hidden, 
 like the character and armor of a giant, by studs and 
 knots of good and precious stones, when they are not 
 wanted in actual warfare. Thackeray has said that all 
 men who avoid female society have dull perceptions, and 
 are stupid, and have gross tastes, and revolt against what 
 is pure. Your club -swaggerers, who are sucking the 
 butts ot billiard cues all night, call female society insipid. 
 Poetry is uninspiring to a zany; beauty has no charms 
 for a blind man ; music does not please a poor beast who 
 does not know one tune from another ; but as a true epi- 
 cure is hardly ever tired of water, brown bread and 
 butter, I protest I can sit for a whole night talking to a 
 well-regulated, kindly woman about her daughter Fanny, 
 or her boy Frank, and like the evening's entertainment. 
 One of the great benefits a man may derive from woman's 
 society is that he is bound to be respectful to her. The 
 
424 SOCIETY. 
 
 habit is of great good to your morals, men, depend upon 
 it. Our education makes us the most eminently selfish 
 men in the world, and the greatest benefit that comes to 
 a man from a woman's society is that he has to think of 
 somebody to whom he is bound to be constantly attentive 
 and respectful. No improvement, that takes place in 
 either of the sexes, can possibly be confined to itself; 
 each is a universal mirror to the other. 
 
 Society has been aptly compared to a heap of embers, 
 which, when separated, soon languish, darken, and expire; 
 but if placed together, glow with a ruddy and intense 
 heat; a just emblem of the strength, happiness, and se- 
 curity derived from mankind. The savage who never 
 knew the blessings of combination, and he who quits so- 
 ciety from apathy or misanthropic spleen, are like the 
 separated embers, dark, dead, useless; they neither give 
 nor receive heat, neither love nor are beloved. To what 
 acts of heroism and virtue, in every age and nation, has 
 not the impetus of affection given rise ? How often in 
 the busy haunts of men, are all our noblest and gentlest 
 virtues called forth ? And how in the bosom of the re- 
 cluse do all the soft emotions languish and grow faint? It 
 is good to meet in friendly intercourse and pour out that 
 social cheer which so vivifies the weary and desponding 
 heart. It elevates the feelings and makes us all the bet- 
 ter for the world. Yes, yes, give to all the hearty grasp 
 and the sunny smile. They send sunshine to the soul and 
 make the heart leap as with new life and joy. Thus may 
 we become brothers in every good word and deed, and 
 Peace and Good Will spread in the earth. We are not 
 well enough acquainted each with each and all with all. 
 We are not social enough. Many members of the same 
 church congregation are nearly or wholly unacquainted, 
 one with another. We are not found, often enough at 
 one another's houses. We are specially delinquent in the 
 duty of calling upon such as come among us and connect 
 themselves with us. We do not welcome them and seek 
 to make their stay as pleasant as possible. We do not 
 take the kindly notice we should of such as only occa- 
 sionally come to our places of public and social worship 
 
SOCIETY 425 
 
 We do not ask such as we may see about the door and in 
 the vestibule to take seats with us, and we suffer stran- 
 gers to sit through the service and go away unrecognized 
 and unspoken to, and so they go in search of a warmer 
 welcome elsewhere. We do not have social gatherings 
 enough. We carry our unsocialness too much into our 
 so-called social religious meetings. There is too much 
 stiffness, formality and iciness there. Too few participate 
 in them. Too few take up the duty, or seize upon the 
 privilege of saying a word, or offering a prayer or break- 
 ing out in some familiar song. There is too much dis- 
 tance there, too much indifference to each other's 
 presence, too much haste in leaving the place at the close 
 of meeting. We should, at least, clasp hands and ex- 
 change greetings before we go. Says Daniel Webster, 
 "We should make it a principle to extend the hand of 
 fellowship to every man who discharges faithfully his 
 duties, and maintains good order — who manifests a deep 
 interest in the welfare of general society — whose deport- 
 ment is upright, and whose mind is intelligent, without 
 stopping to ascertain whether he swings a hammer or 
 draws a thread. There is nothing distinct from all nat- 
 ural claim as the reluctant, the backward sympathy — the 
 forced smile — the checked conversation — the hesitating 
 compliance, the well-off are too apt to manifest to those 
 a little down, with whom in comparison of intellect and 
 principles of virtue, they frequently sink into insignifi- 
 cance." 
 
 After all that can be said about the advantages one 
 man has over another, there is still a wonderful equality 
 in human fortunes. If the heiress has booty for her 
 dower, the penniless have beauty for their's; if one man 
 has cash, the other has credit; if one boasts of his 
 income, the other can of his influence. No one is so mis- 
 erable but that his neighbor wants something he possesses ; 
 and no one so mighty but that he wants another's aid. 
 There is no fortune so good but it may be reversed ; and 
 none so bad but it may be bettered. The sun that rises 
 in clouds may set in splendor ; and that which rises in 
 splendor may set in gloom. 
 
426 SOCIETY. 
 
 Rev. Edward Everett Hale has been philosophizing od 
 social relations and duties, and among other things, he 
 said this: "For all I can say, or any body else can say, it 
 will be the manner of some people to give up meeting 
 other people socially ; I am very sorry for them, but I 
 cannot help it. All I can say is that they will be sorry 
 before they are done. I wish they would read iEsop's 
 fable about the old man and his sons and the bundle of 
 rods. I wish they would find out definitely why God 
 gave them tongues and lips and ears. I wish they would 
 take to heart the folly of this constant struggle in which 
 they live, against the whole law of the being of a grega- 
 rious animal like man." Westerly writes me, " I do not 
 look for much advance in the world until we can get 
 people out of their own self." u The human race is the 
 individual of which men and women are so many differ- 
 ent members." You may kick against this law, but it is 
 true. It is the truth around which, like a crystal round 
 its nucleus, all modern civilization has taken order. " From 
 social intercourse," says Addison, u are derived some of the 
 highest enjoyments of life ; where there is a free inter- 
 change of sentiments, the mind acquires new ideas, and 
 by a frequent exercise of its power, the undersigned 
 gains fresh vigor." Martin Luther once said: "When I 
 am assailed with heavy tribulations, I rush out among my 
 pigs rather than remain alone by myself. The human 
 heart is like a millstone in a mill ; when you put wheat 
 under it, it turns and bruises the wheat into flour ; if you 
 put no wheat in it, it still grinds on ; but then it is itself 
 it grinds, and wears away." 
 
 The typical American is not an unsocial person. In- 
 deed, he is very far from being anything of the kind. For- 
 eigners regard the American as one who has a particular 
 fondness for living with his windows up and his doors 
 open. Yet it is doubtless true that there is a notable lack 
 of freedom and ease in the intercourse of American 
 society, and that the coming together of men and wo- 
 men for the interchange of thought and feeling is 
 attended with difficulties that only the rich may success* 
 fully encounter. If half a dozen friends are invited to 
 
SOCIETY. 427 
 
 dinner, it is deemed necessary to crowd the table with 
 superfluous viands and dainty and costly dishes. Now 
 we protest that there must be a better way than this. 
 The great multitude are those who, in some calling or 
 profession, work for their bread. To furnish a dinner and 
 tea such as we have described, would be felt by them as 
 a severe tax. No matter how intellectual and socially 
 valuable these people may be, they shrink from entering 
 society that imposes such burdens. As they feel it to be 
 impossible for them to return in kind the expensive civil- 
 ities which a wealthy neighbor extends to them, they 
 shrink back into their own houses and go nowhere. 
 Everywhere, and all the time, these costly entertainments, 
 at dinner and tea and social assembly, operate as a bar 
 to social intercourse. Indeed, they have become, in the 
 full, legitimate meaning of the word, nuisance. To those 
 who give them they are not pleasant in any respect. 
 They are provided with no expectation of a compensa- 
 ting pleasure ; and few besides the young — to whom any 
 opportunity for dancing and frolicking is agreeable — take 
 the slightest satisfaction in them. They are glad when 
 their toilet is made, glad when the refreshments are 
 offered, glad when the show is over and they can go home, 
 glad when they get safely to bed, and particularly glad 
 the following morning if they can look over their coats 
 and dresses and find that they are not ruined. The essen- 
 tial vulgarity of the phase of social life which we are 
 considering is decided by the simple fact that the great 
 question of the hostess concerns the stomach of her 
 guests, and the great question of her guests relates to the 
 decorations of their own backs. It elevates nobody, it 
 refines nobody, it inspires and instructs nobody, and it 
 satisfies nobody. Yet we go one year after another up- 
 holding these social usages which we despise. Let us 
 find the right way, and follow it! 
 
 The spirit of life is society ; that of society is freedom ; 
 that of freedom, the discreet and moderate use of it. A 
 man may contemplate virtue in solitude, and retirement; 
 but the practical part consists in its participation, and the 
 society it hath with others; for whatever is good, is 
 
428 SOCIETY. 
 
 better for being communicable. As too long a retire- 
 ment weakens the mind, so too much company dissi- 
 pates it. Too much company is worse than none. A 
 man secluded from company, can have none but the devil 
 and himself to tempt him ; but he that converses much 
 in the world has almost as many snares as he has com- 
 panions. Dean Swift had a better relish for good society 
 than for choice viands. When invited to the houses of 
 great men, he sometimes insisted upon knowing what 
 persons he was likely to meet. "I don't want your bill 
 of fare, but your bill of company." 
 
 Property continually tends to become a more vivid 
 idea than right. In the struggle for private accumula- 
 tion, the worth of every human being is overlooked. The 
 importance of every man's progress is forgotten. We. 
 must contend for this great idea. They who hold it, 
 must spread it around them. The truth must be sounded 
 in the ears of men, that the grand end of society is to 
 place within reach of all its members the means of im- 
 provement, of elevation, of the true happiness of man. 
 There is a higher duty than to build almshouses for the 
 poor, and that is, to save men from being degraded to 
 the blighting influence of an almshouse. Man has a 
 right to something more than bread to keep him from 
 starving. He has a right to the aids, and encourage- 
 ments, and culture, by which he may fulfill the destiny 
 of a man ; and until society is brought to recognize and 
 reverence this, it will continue to groan under its present 
 miseries. It is a delicate secret, that of being attractive 
 and charming in company. Some think it requires beauty 
 and knowledge, or eloquence in the speaker ; it requires 
 no such thing. It is true that beauty brings the hearers 
 near, but it does not keep them. Some people think 
 that it requires the speaker to be clever herself, or agree- 
 able or interesting ; instead of which it only requires that 
 she should, with nice and delicate tact, so address herself 
 to others, as to make them feel themselves clever, agree- 
 able, and interesting ; and that will please and gratify 
 them infinitely more than by displaying the most brilliant 
 and extraordinary power of her own. 
 
SOCIETY. 42$ 
 
 The clergy are amongst the most agreeable of all com- 
 panions. The best conversationist we ever knew was a 
 clergyman. In these days, when education and refine- 
 ment pervade all classes, the race of clergymen described 
 by the novelists and playwrights of the last century have 
 entirely passed away. The punch-making parson, with 
 his wig awry, exists only on the canvass of Hogarth, or 
 in the pages of Smollett. This country can now boast 
 of a body of clergy unequaled by that of any other 
 nation in the world, who bring to society a fund of 
 information and knowledge, tempered by philanthropy 
 and benevolence, and untinctured by gloom or affec- 
 tation. 
 
 The most agreeable of all companions is a simple, frank 
 man, without any high pretensions to an oppressive 
 greatness — one who loves life and understands the use 
 of it; obliging alike at all hours; above all, of a golden 
 temper, and steadfast as an anchor. For such a one we 
 would gladly exchange the greatest genius, the most bril- 
 liant wit, the profoundest thinker. Good offices are the 
 cement of society. 
 
 The art of pleasing in company is not to explain things 
 too circumstantially, but express only part and leave your 
 hearers to make out the rest. u When you come into any 
 company," says Sir Isaac Newton, " observe their humors ; 
 suit your own carriage thereto, by which insinuation you 
 will make their converse more free and open. Let your 
 discourse be more in queries and doubtings, than per- 
 emptory assertions, or disputings. He that in company 
 only studies men's diversions, may be sure at the same 
 time to lose their respect. Resolve to speak and act well 
 in company, in spite of those that do different; whose 
 vice set against thy virtue, will render it the more con- 
 spicuous and excellent." 
 
 The great object of society is refreshment of spirit. 
 This is not to be obtained by luxury or by the cankerous 
 habit of speaking against others, but by a bright and 
 easy interchange of ideas on subjects which, even in their 
 lightest and most playful aspects, are worthy to engage- 
 the thoughts of men. 
 
430 ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 Society is the atmosphere of souls, and we necessarily 
 inhale from it what is either healthful or infectious. 
 
 The more polished the society is, the less formality 
 there is in it. 
 
 In good society, we are required to do obliging things 
 to one another ; in genteel society we are required only 
 to say them. 
 
 The best society and conversation is that in which the 
 heart has a greater share than the head. 
 
 Society is like the air, very high up it is too subli- 
 mated for comfortable breathing; too low down it is a 
 perfect choke damp. 
 
 Fashionable society has generally two faults — first in 
 being hollow-headed, and second in being hollow-hearted. 
 
 He cannot bestow to society who lives upon society ; 
 he only gives who provides for his own. 
 
 Society, like shaded silk, must be viewed in all situa- 
 tions or its colors will deceive us. 
 
 Society rarely pardons those who have discovered the 
 emptiness of its pleasures, and who can live independent 
 of it and them. 
 
 ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 An author is known by his writings, a mother by her 
 daughter, a fool by his words, and all men by their com- 
 panions. 
 
 Intercourse with persons of decided virtue and excel- 
 lence is of great importance in the formation of a good 
 character. The force of example is powerful; we are 
 creatures of imitation, and, by a necessary influence, our 
 tempers and habits are very much formed on the model 
 of those with whom we familiarly associate. Better be 
 alone than in bad company. Evil communications cor- 
 rupt good manners. Ill qualities are catching as well as 
 diseases; and the mind is at least as much, if not a great 
 deal more, liable to infection, than the body. Go with 
 mean people, and you think life is mean. 
 
 The human race requires to be educated, and it is doubt- 
 
ASSOCIATIONS. 431 
 
 less true that the major part of that education is obtained 
 through example rather than precept. This is especially 
 true respecting character and habits. How natural is it 
 for a child to look up to those around him for an example 
 of imitation, and how readily does he copy all that he 
 sees done, good or bad. The importance of a good ex- 
 ample on which the young may exercise this powerful 
 and active element of their nature, is a matter of the ut- 
 most moment. To the Phrenologist every faculty assumes 
 an importance almost infinite, and perhaps none more so 
 than that of imitation. It is a trite, but true maxim, 
 that "a man is known by the company he keeps." He 
 naturally assimilates, by the force of imitation, to the 
 habits and manners of those by whom he is surrounded. 
 We know persons, who walk much with the lame, who 
 have learned to walk with a hitch or limp like their lame 
 friends. Vice stalks in the streets unabashed, and chil- 
 dren copy it. Witness the urchin seven years old trying 
 to ape his seniors in folly, by smoking the cigar-stumps 
 which they have cast aside. In time, when his funds im- 
 prove, he will wield the long nine, and be a full-fledged 
 44 loafer." This faculty is usually more active in the 
 young than in adult life, and serves to lead them to imi- 
 tate that which their seniors do, before their reasoning 
 powers are sufficiently developed and instructed to enable 
 them to reason out a proper course of action. Thus by 
 copying others, they do that which is appropriate, 
 right, or wrong, without knowing why, or the principles 
 and consequences involved in their actions. 
 
 The following beautiful allegory is translated from the 
 German: Tophronius, a wise teacher, would not suffer 
 even his own grown-up sons and daughters to associate 
 with those whose conduct was not pure and upright. 
 44 Dear father," said the gentle Eulalia to him one day, 
 when he forbade her, in company with her brother, to 
 visit the volatile Lucinda, "dear father, you must think 
 us very childish, if you imagine that we should be ex- 
 posed to danger by it." The father took in silence a 
 dead coal from the hearth, and reached it to his daughter, 
 44 It will not burn you, my child; take it," Eulalia did 
 
432 ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 so, and behold ! her delicate white hand was soiled and 
 blackened, and as it chanced her white dress also. " We 
 cannot be too careful in handling coals," said Eulalia, in 
 vexation. "Yes, truly," said her father; "you see, my 
 child, that coals, even if they do not burn, blacken. So 
 it is with the company of the vicious." 
 
 The awfully sad consequences of evil associations is ex- 
 hibited in the history of almost all criminals. The case 
 of a man named Brown recently executed in Toronto, 
 Canada, is an example. He was born in Cambridgeshire, 
 England, of parents who were members of the Church of 
 England ; and in a sketch of his life written at his dicta- 
 tion, he attributes his downfall to early disobedience and 
 to bad companions, which led to dissipation and finally 
 plunged him into associations with the most dissolute and 
 lawless characters. They led him on in transgression 
 and sin, which ended in his being brought to the scaffold. 
 On the gallows he made the following speech : — " This is 
 a solemn day for me, boys ! I hope this will be a warning 
 to you against bad company — I hope it will be a lesson 
 to all young people, and old as well as young, rich and 
 poor. It was that that brought me here to-day to 
 my last end, though I am innocent of the murder I am 
 about to suffer for. Before my God I am innocent of the 
 murder! I never committed this or any other murder. 
 I know nothing of it. I am going to meet my Maker in 
 a few minutes. My the Lord have mercy on my soul! 
 Amen, amen." What a terrible warning his melancholy 
 example affords to young men never to deviate from the 
 straight line of duty. Live with the culpable, and you 
 will be very likely to die with the criminal. Bad com- 
 pany is like a nail driven into a post, which after the first 
 or second blow, may be drawn out with little difficulty ; 
 but being once driven in up to the head, the pinchers 
 cannot take hold to draw it out, which can only be done 
 by the destruction of the wood. Let you be ever so 
 pure, you cannot associate with bad companions without 
 falling into bad odor. Evil company is like tobacco 
 smoke — you cannot be long in its presence without car- 
 rying away taint of it. "Let no man deceive himself," 
 
ASSOCIATIONS. 433 
 
 says Petrarch, "by thinking that the contagions of the 
 soul are less than those of the body. They are yet 
 greater ; they sink deeper, and come on more unsuspect- 
 edly." From impure air, we take diseases; from bad 
 company, vice and imperfection. Avoid as much as you 
 can the company of all vicious persons whatever ; for no 
 rice is alone, and all are infectious. 
 
 Lord Chief Justice Holt, when a young man, was very 
 dissipated, and belonged to a club of wild fellows, most 
 of whom took an infamous course of life. When his 
 lordship was engaged at the Old Bailey, a man was con- 
 victed of highway robbery, whom the judge remembered 
 to have been one of his old companions. Moved by cu- 
 riosity, Holt, thinking the fellow did not know him, asked 
 what had become of his old associates. The culprit, 
 making a low bow, and fetching a deep sigh, replied : 
 u Ah, my lord, they are all hanged but your lordship and 
 me." One unruly animal will learn all others in company 
 bad tricks, and the Bible says, " One sinner destroys 
 much good." u He that walketh with wise men shall be 
 wise: but a companion of fools shall be destroyed." 
 Keep good company, for by conversing and associating 
 with others you become assimilated to, or like those 
 whose company you keep. If they be good, it is a great 
 means to make you good, or to confirm you in goodness ; 
 but if they be bad, it is twenty to one that they will cor- 
 rupt or infect you. If they be intelligent, prudent and 
 wise, they will improve you in intelligence, prudence and 
 wisdom; but if they be ignorant, rash or foolish, to keep 
 their company will greatly tend to make you so. Water 
 will seek its level. So do the various elements of society. 
 If ever you see any common rascal let as readily as your- 
 self into a house you visit, go out of it immediately. No 
 matter how urgently a bad man may invite you to his 
 house, be very careful not to u put your foot in it." It is 
 said to be a property of the tree-frog that it acquires the 
 color of whatever it adheres to for a short time. Thus, 
 when found on growing corn it is commonly of a dark- 
 green. If found on the white oak, it assumes a color 
 peculiar to that tree. Just so it is with men. Tell us 
 
434 ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 whom you choose and prefer as companions, and we cer- 
 tainly can tell who you are like. Do you love the society 
 of the vulgar? Then you are already debased in your 
 sentiments. Do you seek to be with the profane? in 
 your heart you are like them. Are jesters and buffoons 
 your choice friends? He who loves to laugh at folly is 
 himself a fool. Do you love and seek the society of the 
 wise and good? Is this your habit? Had you rather 
 take the lowest seat among these than the highest seat 
 among others ? Then you have already learned to be 
 good. You may not make very much progress, but even 
 a good beginning is not to be despised. Hold on your 
 way, and seek to be the companion of those that fear 
 God. So you shall be wise for yourself, and wise for 
 eternity. 
 
 No man of position can allow himself to associate, with- 
 out prejudice, with the profane, the Sabbath-breakers, 
 the drunken, and the licentious, for he lowers himself, 
 without elevating them. The sweep is not made the less 
 black by rubbing against the well-dressed and the clean, 
 while they are inevitably denied. The Persians have this 
 beautiful fable to show the value of good company. U A 
 philosopher was one day astonished by the fragrance of 
 a piece of clay. On asking how it came to have so sweet 
 a perfume, the clay answered: "I was once a piece of 
 common clay, but I was placed for some time in the com- 
 pany of a rose, and the sweet quality of my company 
 was communicated to me ; otherwise, I should only be a 
 piece of common clay, as I appear to be." Tell me with 
 whom thou art found, and I will tell thee whom thou art: 
 let me know thy chosen employment, and what to ex- 
 pect from thee I know. Describe your company and you 
 will describe yourself. 
 
 Kings have been declared to be "lovers of low com- 
 pany:" and this maxim, besides the reason sometimes as- 
 signed for it, viz., that they meet with less opposition to 
 their wills from such persons, will, we suspect, be found 
 to turn at last on the consideration, that they also there 
 meet with more sympathy in their tastes. The most ig- 
 norant and thoughtless have the greatest admiration of 
 
ASSOCIATIONS. 435 
 
 the baubles, the outward symbols of pomp and power, 
 the sound and show, which are the habitual delight and 
 mighty prerogative of kings. The stupidest slave wor- 
 ships the gaudiest tyrant. The high minded and the low 
 minded come in contact without mixing, like oil and 
 water. Keep company with persons rather above than 
 below yourself, for gold in the same pocket with silver 
 loseth both of its color and weight. Never take into your 
 confidence, or admit often into your company, any man 
 who does not know, on some important subject, more 
 than you do. Be his rank, be his virtues, what they may, 
 he will be a hindrance to your pursuits, and an obstruc- 
 tion to your greatness. Nothing elevates us so much as 
 the presence of a spirit similar, yet superior, to our own. 
 What is companionship, where nothing that improves the 
 intellect is communicated, and where the larger heart 
 contracts itself to the model and dimension of the smaller ? 
 Washington was won't to say, "Be courteous to all, 
 but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried be 
 fore you give them your confidence." It should be the 
 aim of young men tc go into good society. We do not 
 mean the rich, the proud and fashionable, but the society 
 of the wise, the intelligent and good. Where you find 
 men that know more than you do, and from whose coi. 
 versation one can gain information, it is always safe to be 
 found. It has broken down many a man by associating 
 with the low and vulgar, where the ribald song and the 
 indecent story were introduced to excite laughter and 
 influence the bad passions. Lord Clarendon has attrib- 
 uted his success and happiness in life, to associating with 
 persons more learned and virtuous than himself. If you 
 wish to be respected — if you desire happiness and not 
 misery, we advise you to associate with the intelligent 
 and good. Strive for mental excellence and strict integ- 
 rity, and you never will be found in the sinks of pollu- 
 tion, and on the benches of retailers and gamblers. Once 
 habituate yourself to a virtuous course — once secure a 
 love of good society, and no punishment would be 
 greater than by accident to be obliged for a half a day 
 to associate with the low and vulgar. Try to frequent 
 
436 NEIGHBORS. 
 
 the company of your betters. In book and life it is the 
 most wholesome society : learn to admire rightly ; the 
 great pleasure of life is that. Note what the great men 
 admire — they admire great things ; narrow spirits admire 
 basely, and worship meanly. It is an authentic anecdote 
 of the late and learned Dr. Bowditch, of Massachusetts, 
 that at the age of twenty-one, he sailed to the East Indies, 
 and that during the voyage he taught the ship's crew the 
 art of navigation. Every one of these sailors subse- 
 quently became ship-masters. Such were the conse- 
 quences of associating with a man whose mind was richly 
 stored with useful knowledge, and whose heart was full 
 of good will toward his fellow man. 
 
 To be fully up with the century, live habitually, when 
 young, with those older than yourself, and, when old, 
 with those younger. A good rule — to keep good com- 
 pany, and be one of the number. Out of good men 
 choose acquaintances, of acquaintances, friends. 
 
 We naturally associate with the gay in our days of hap- 
 piness, but turn to the sympathising when misfortune 
 overtakes us ; as we seek the festive hall in our hours of 
 mirth, and fly to the solitude of our chamber in those of 
 sorrow. 
 
 No man can avoid his own company — so he had best 
 make it as good as possible. 
 
 NEIGHB ORS. 
 
 Little meddling makes fair parting. 
 
 Endeavor to make peace among thy neighbors. It is 
 a worthy and reputable action, and will bring greater 
 and more just commendations to thee, and more benefit 
 to those with whom thou conversest, than wit or learning, 
 or any of those so much admired accomplishments. The 
 honest man will rather be the grave to his neighbor's 
 errors, than in any way expose them. A man stopping 
 at a tavern for rest and refreshments began to talk about 
 his journey. He had come from a neighboring town; 
 
NEIGHBORS. 437 
 
 he was moving away, and glad enough to get away, too. 
 Such a set of neighbors as he had there, unkind, disoblig- 
 ing, contrary, it was enough to make any one want to 
 leave the place, and he had started, and was to settle in 
 another region, where he could find a different set of in- 
 habitants. u Well," said the landlord, u you will find just 
 such neighbors where you are going." The next night 
 another man stopped at the inn. He, too, was on a jour- 
 ney — was moving. On inquiry, it was found that he 
 came from the same place from which the former traveler 
 had come. He said he had been obliged to move from 
 where he lived, and he did not mind leaving so much as 
 he did leaving his neighbors, they were so kind, consid- 
 erate, accommodating and generous, that he felt very 
 sorrowful at the thought of leaving them and going 
 among strangers, especially as he could not tell what kind 
 of neighbors he would find. " Oh, well, said the land- 
 lord, u you will find just such neighbors where you are 
 going." Does it not seem possible that men will generally 
 find such neighbors as they are looking for? Some 
 people are always in trouble; others " follow peace with 
 all men." Who knows but we can have just such neigh- 
 bors as we wish for, simply by treating them as we 
 ought to? 
 
 The practical good sense of Jefferson's family letters is 
 characteristic of the man. In a letter to his eldest daugh- 
 ter (Mrs. Randolph,) he says: — "I am happy to find you 
 are on good terms with your neighbors. It is almost the 
 most important circumstance in life, since nothing is so 
 corroding as frequently to meet persons with whom one 
 has any difference. The ill-will of a single neighbor is an 
 immense drawback on the happiness of life, and therefore 
 their good will cannot be bought too dear." This is home 
 philosophy which all will feel, and would do well to 
 practice. 
 
 One's pleasure, after all, is much affected by the quality 
 of one's neighbors, even though one may not be on 
 speaking terms with them. A pleasant, bright face at 
 the window is surely better than a discontented, cross 
 one; and a house that has the air of being inhabited n 
 
438 FRIENDS. 
 
 preferable to closed shutters and unsocial blinds, exclud- 
 ing every ray of sunlight and sympathy. We like to see 
 glancing, cheerful lights through the windows of a cold 
 night, or watch them as evening deepens, gradually 
 creep from the parlor to the upper stories of the houses 
 near us. We like to watch the little children go in and 
 out the door, to play or go to school. We like to see a 
 white robed baby, dancing up and down at the window 
 in its mother's arms, or the father reading his newspaper 
 there at evening, or any of these cheerful impromptu 
 home glimpses, which, though we are no Paul Pry, we 
 will assert make a pleasant neighborhood to those who 
 live for comfort instead of show. Sad, indeed, some 
 morning on waking, it is to see the blinds down and the 
 shutters closed, and know that death's angel, while it 
 spared our threshold, has crossed that of our cheerful 
 neighbor; sad to miss the robed baby from the window, 
 and see the little coffin at night-fall borne into the house ; 
 sad to see innocent little faces pressed at eventide against 
 the window-pane, watching for the " dear papa" who has 
 gone to his long home. 
 
 The divine injunction, "love thy neighbor as thyself," 
 is the great second command, and as such requires the 
 ready and full compliance of those who love the Lord. 
 
 FRIENDS. 
 
 One old friend is worth two new ones. 
 
 Old friends! What a multitude of deep and varied 
 emotions are called forth from the soul by the utterance 
 of these two words. What thronging memories of other 
 days crowd the brain when they are spoken ; ah, there is 
 a magic in the sound and the spell which it creates is 
 both sad and pleasing. As we sit by our fireside, while 
 the winds are making wild melody without the walls of 
 our cottage, and review the scenes of by-gone years 
 which flit before us in swift succession, dim and shadowy 
 as the recollections of a dream — how those " old familiar 
 
FRIENDS. 439 
 
 faces," will rise up and haunt our vision with their well 
 remembered features. But ah, where are they? those 
 friends of our youth — those kindred spirits who shared 
 our joy and sorrows when first we started in the pilgrim- 
 age of life. Companions of our early days, they are 
 endeared to us by many a tie, and we now look back 
 through the vista of years, upon the hours of our com- 
 munion, as upon green oases in a sandy waste. Years 
 have passed over us with their buds and flowers, their 
 fruits and snows; and where now are those "old familiar 
 faces?" They are scattered, and over many of their last 
 narrow homes, the thistle waves its lonely head; "after 
 life's fitful fever they sleep well." Some are buffeting 
 the billows of Time's stormy sea in distant land's ; though 
 they are absent our thoughts are often with them. A few 
 perhaps yet remain, and we meet them oft as we pursue 
 our daily vocation. To those we cling with a closer 
 grasp as the auburn of their locks fade into grey. They 
 are as a cluster of sere leaves in winter which have with- 
 stood the chill winds of November ; each one that drops 
 off binds the others yet closer unto us. Time and changes 
 cement our friendship, and when an old friend passes off 
 the stage, his absence creates a blank which new ones 
 can never fill. Our life is a devious path and as we pass 
 along, our companions drop off one by one, and new 
 faces supply their place, until we seem to move in a 
 strange world and amid strange people. The rocks and 
 the hills, the streams and the trees remain in the places 
 which they filled of yore, but the "old familiar faces" 
 with whom we wandered alone: their banks and beneath 
 their shade, have long since departed, and a sensation of 
 loneliness comes over us, even when mingling in a crowd. 
 The thoughts which fill the mind when musing upon the 
 joys of "lang syne" are of a chastened character. We 
 are freed for a time from the shackles of selfishness and 
 contemplate the purer and kindlier traits of the soul. 
 We behold the footprints of Time as marked by the pen- 
 cilings of decay — in the scenes of the past we behold a 
 type of the future — the fate of our friends shadows forth 
 that of ourselves, and dull are we if we arise not from 
 
440 FRIENDS. 
 
 fancied communication with old friends, both wiser and 
 better men. 
 
 It is a wretched fate, generally, to be cut off from all 
 intercourse with the relatives and friends with whom one's 
 first years were passed. There are affections and interests 
 between you and them which can never exist between 
 later friends and familiars, however dear these may 
 become. No matter how true and kind may be the inti- 
 mates of mature life, there will always be wanting some- 
 thing to our intercourse with them, and that something 
 is the common interests which they have whose first de- 
 cade, or score of years, was spent amid the self-same 
 scenes and people. To childhood's friends the heart 
 opens more easily than to any others — at least that por- 
 tion of it that had become unsealed before we parted. 
 We feel perfectly natural and at our ease with those that 
 know us well. We are not careful to keep anything back 
 lest we be misunderstood. We are not afraid to give our 
 old-time thoughts, feelings and actions free play, for they 
 did not disgust us once, and we don't think that they will 
 now. In all that we remain unchanged, we feel ourselves 
 as unfettered as though we were actually alone, when we 
 are with those that knew and loved us in childhood. 
 But — and here comes in the other side — if we have 
 changed, if we have moved onward and away from what 
 we once thought about the right and only path, among 
 our early friends is the last place on earth to look for tol- 
 eration. They walk and act and think still in what to 
 them is u the good old way," and though they might allow 
 wide differences in strangers that sojourn among them, 
 be sure that they never abide any such thing in us. If 
 we have taken on stricter notions than their's, they feel 
 that we are stiff and proud, and that we must be brought 
 down; if bolder and more liberal, they treat us with 
 holy horror, and urge us to return to the right ways of 
 our youth. If we differ in anything from their ideas of 
 the best way, we must be pestered, and rebuked, and an- 
 noyed, until we submit to renounce or conceal our senti- 
 ments. Every one who has been much from home has 
 had more or less of this experience. Great men are pe- 
 
FRIENDS. 441 
 
 culiarly subject to it. Abroad in the world they are re- 
 spected, almost feared ; their privacy and their rights are 
 carefully secured to them. None think of intruding on 
 them. Every one speaks to them and treats them with 
 the utmost consideration. Their very whims are re- 
 spected, and there is not a man who would be so bold as 
 to find fault with their habits. Oddity is considered quite 
 excusable in them. They are hardly held accountable to 
 the same laws that rule other people. But just let the 
 great man go home, where he is at once invested by 
 brothers and sisters, cousins, aunts, former playmates, &c, 
 and what has become of his greatness? 
 
 Goethe says: — "Old friends, who have been long 
 absent, should not meet. They do not understand one 
 another. Each has learned a new language. Whoever 
 is interested in his own culture should especially avoid 
 this, for the inevitable misunderstanding can only work 
 upon us unfavorably, and destroy the image of the former 
 relations." 
 
 The hardest trial of those who fall from affluence and 
 honor to poverty and obscurity, is the discovery that the 
 attachment of so many iu whom they confided was a pre- 
 tence, a mask to gain their own ends, or was a miserable 
 shallowness. Sometimes, doubtless, it is with regret that 
 these frivolous followers of the world desert those upon 
 whom they have fawned; but they soon forget them. 
 Flies leave the kitchen when the dishes are empty. The 
 parasites that cluster about the favorite of fortune, to 
 gather his gifts and climb by his aid, linger with the sun- 
 shine, but scatter at the approach of a storm, as the 
 leaves cling to a tree in summer weather, but drop off at 
 the breath of winter, and leave it naked to the stinging- 
 blast. Like ravens settled down for a banquet, and sud- 
 denly scared by a noise, how quickly at the first sound 
 of calamity these superficial earthlings are specks on the 
 horizon. But a true friend sits in the centre, and is for 
 all times. Our need only reveals him more fully, and 
 binds him more closely to us. Prosperity and adversity 
 are both revealers, the difference being that in the former 
 our friends know us, in the latter we know them. But, 
 
442 FRIENDS. 
 
 notwithstanding the insincerity and greediness prevalent 
 among men, there is a vast deal more of esteem and 
 fellow-yearning than is ever outwardly shown. There are 
 more examples of unadulterated affection, more deeds of 
 silent love and magnanimity, than is usually supposed. 
 Our misfortunes bring to our side real friends, before un- 
 known. Benevolent impulses where we should not 
 expect them, in modest privacy enact many a scene of 
 beautiful wonder amidst the plaudits of angels. And, 
 upon the whole, fairly estimating the glory, the uses, and 
 the actual and possible prevalence of the friendly senti- 
 ment, we must cheerily strike lyre and lift voice to the 
 favorite song, confessing, after every complaint is ended, 
 that 
 
 " There is a power to make each hour 
 
 As sweet as Heaven designed it ; 
 Nor need we roam to bring it home, 
 
 Though few there be to find it ! 
 We seek too high for things close by, 
 
 And lose what nature found us ; 
 For life hath here no charm so dear 
 
 As home and friends around us." 
 
 There is no pain like that caused by the loss of faith in 
 our friends. It is the undermining of the very founda- 
 tion of our earthly happiness. To know that words 
 stand for anything save sincerity; to know that treachery 
 lurks under a caress, vengeful feelings under a smile, de- 
 ception in every look, word and action — what has life 
 left to ofrer when, the film being removed, this dreadful 
 truth becomes apparent? Nothing, to the soul untrue to 
 itself — to the soul who has anchored its all here ; every- 
 thing, to him or her believing that "Our Father's" hand 
 is in it. That grasping madly, blindly, after earthly love, 
 with the yearning nature which He himself has given us, 
 though not to be chained to earth — He has but taken this 
 way — so seemingly cruel — to teach us to put our trust 
 where no falsehood can cause our tears to flow ; where no 
 defection can torture us; where no Judas gains the ear r 
 which we trustingly believed inaccessible to the traitor. 
 Blessed those who, knowing this, arise courageously from 
 the dust, where they have sunk mourning, and, leaning 
 on the arm that never fails, accept life and its crosses, as 
 did He who knew them all. 
 
FRIENDS. 443' 
 
 The members of the great human family appear to 
 have scarcely begun to learn how much we depend on 
 one another. "I perish for the want of friends!" cried 
 Napoleon Bonaparte, in a paroxysm of anguish. With 
 what intense anxiety did Washington call for friends from 
 Congress in the darkest days of our revolution! Even 
 the Saviour of the world has left on record the fact that 
 he did not many mighty works in the city of his kindred, 
 because he wanted friends. It is said to be an old and 
 practical maxim that " there is no friendship in trade." 
 We do not believe it, and we do not mean our readers 
 shall, if we can help it. That maxim is a selfish, wicked, 
 cruel one; and we call on honest and fair men every- 
 where to scout it out of existence. No friendship in 
 trade! No unselfish kindness among business men! Can 
 this be so? Is it indeed true that in commercial circles- 
 every man is to look on his neighbor as a villain and a 
 scoundrel? Has confidence between man and man been 
 destroyed by the tricks of traffic ? We do not believe it. 
 Go preach such a doctrine to Hottentots, savages and 
 pirates. It cannot be true of the mercantile classes in 
 America In the haste of men to be rich, when the 
 facilities of intercourse, and the appliances of trade are 
 so greatly increased, the obligations of kindliness and 
 friendly regard are very liable to be overlooked. With 
 many active business men, business becomes a scrabble, 
 and they will climb and climb to reach the topmost round 
 of the ladder of wealth, at times not stopping to think 
 how hard they may tread on the hands of those who have 
 grasped the rounds below them. Look back a moment 
 and see who is struggling by your side ! Do not act as 
 if all the world was made for you and your family. Be 
 friendly. Be kindly. Others must live as well as you. 
 Remember how hard you have had to struggle yourself, 
 and lei id a helping hand to your neighbor. What if you 
 lose now and then? What if you are disappointed in 
 your calculations of men? Do not refuse to do a new 
 friendly act on that account. Think of your own short- 
 comings. Be forgiving. Befriend the, needy in time of. 
 trial, and you will be the gainer in the end. 
 
444 . FRIENDS. 
 
 Money can buy many things, good and evil. All the 
 wealth of the world could not buy you a friend, nor pay 
 you for the loss of one. "I have wanted only one thing 
 to make me happy," Hazlitt writes; "but, wanting that, 
 have wanted everything." And again: "My heart, shut 
 up in the prison-house of this rude clay, has never found, 
 nor will it ever find, a heart to speak to." We are the 
 weakest of spendthrifts if we let one friend drop off 
 through inattention, or let one push away another, or if 
 we hold aloof from one for petty jealously or heedless 
 slight or roughness. Would you throw away a diamond 
 because it pricked you ? One good friend is not to be 
 weighed against the jewels of all the earth. If there is 
 ■coolness or unkindness between us, let us come face to 
 face and have it out. Quick, before love grows cold! 
 "Life is too short to quarrel in," or to carry black 
 thoughts of friends. If I was wrong, I am sorry ; if you, 
 then I am sorrier yet, for should I not grieve for my 
 friend's misfortune ? and the mending of your fault does 
 not lie with me. But the forgiving it does, and that is 
 the happier office. Give me your hand and call it even. 
 There! it is gone ; and I thank Heaven I keep my friend 
 still ! A friend is too precious a thing to be lightly held, 
 but it must be a little heart that cannot find room for 
 more than one or two. The kindness I feel for you 
 warms me towards all the rest, makes me long to do 
 something to make you all happy. It is easy to lose a 
 friend, but a new one will not come for calling, nor make 
 up for the old one when he comes. 
 
 Friends that are worth having are not made, but " grow " 
 like Topsy in the novel. An old man gave this advice to 
 his sons on his death-bed, "Never try to make a friend." 
 Enemies come fast enough without cultivating the crop ; 
 and friends who are brought forward by hot house expe- 
 dients, are apt to wilt long before they are fairly ripened. 
 "Friends are discovered rather than made," writes Mrs. 
 Stowe. "There are people who are in their own nature 
 friends, only they don't know each other; but certain 
 things, like poetry, music and pain ting, are like the Free- 
 mason's sign — they reveal the initiated to each other." 
 
f i ■: "... 
 
FRIENDS. 445- 
 
 A man may have a thousand intimate acquaintances, and 
 not a friend among them all. If you have one friend, 
 think yourself happy. A friend — a real, true-hearted 
 friend — is more rare than he should be. Why is it that 
 selfishness predominates in the heart? — that he only is 
 sonsidered a friend who has money and influence! In 
 the higher walks of life, how rarelv is a true friend found 
 — one who will act as he feels, and speak as he thinks. 
 But among the humble and pure, you will occasionally 
 find the germ of pure friendship. Ye who have found a 
 true friend, appreciate his worth. If he labors to benefit 
 you. say not a word, perform not an act, that will send a 
 thrill of pain to his bosom. If there is a crime that be- 
 trays a vile heart, it is the wounding of pure affection. 
 Many a one has seen too late the error of his course. 
 When the grave has concealed his best friend, he felt — 
 ah! words will not describe the feeling. Ye who are sur- 
 rounded by the kind and good — the watchful and true- 
 hearted — appreciate them, we pray you. Love them in 
 return for their kindness, and to the close of life they 
 will continue to guard and bless you. Never forsake a 
 friend. When enemies gather around, when the world 
 is dark and cheerless, is the time to try a true friend. 
 They who turn from a scene of distress betray their hy- 
 pocrisy, and prove that only interest moves them. If 
 you have a friend who loves you, who has studied your 
 interest and happiness, be sure to sustain him to adver- 
 sity. Let him know that his former kindness is appre- 
 ciated, and that his love was not thrown away. Real 
 fidelity may be rare, but it exists in the heart. They 
 only deny its worth who never loved a friend, or labored 
 to make a friend happy. 
 
 We are too negligent of "the small sweet courtesies 
 of life " to make friends, and then sit down and complain 
 that nobody cares for us. In William Wirt's letter to his 
 daughter occurs a passage which I will extract for the 
 benefit of those who have made themselves friendless. 
 He says — "I want to tell you a secret. The way to 
 make yourself pleasing to others is to show that you care 
 for them. The world is like the miller at Mansfield, who 
 
446 FRIENDS. 
 
 cared for nobody — no, not he — because nobody cared for 
 him. And the whole world will serve you so if you give 
 them the same cause. Let every one, therefore, see that 
 you do care for them, by showing them what Sterne sc 
 happily calls 'the small sweet courtesies of life/ in which 
 there is no parade; whose voice is so still, to ease, and 
 which manifest themselves by tender and affectionate 
 looks, and little kind acts of attention — giving others 
 the preference in every little enjoyment — at the table, in 
 the field, walking, sitting, or standing." These may 
 seem like small things, but try them, my friends, and see 
 what good to yourselves will grow out of them. The 
 greatest of all earthly blessings is to be able to lean 
 your heart against another heart, faithful, tender, true and 
 tried, and record, with a thankfulness that years deepen, 
 instead of diminishing, "I have a friend." 
 
 If you have a good friend you should be proud of him. 
 If you would retain him as such don't presume to meddle 
 with his purse. His interest, interposition, recommenda- 
 tion — in short, his services, generally speaking, you may 
 expect, but you must not expect his money. Ask it of 
 him and he may give it without hesitation, but mark my 
 word for it, every cent that passes from his pocket to 
 yours quenches a spark in friendship's furnace. The 
 moment you undertake to weight your own interests in 
 the scale against his gold, your interests are found want- 
 ing ; therefore if he is a friend worth having, do not try 
 it. The man who looks upon his friends as sheep whom 
 he can fleece at pleasure, will soon present the sad spec- 
 tacle of a person entirely friendless. When an extrava- 
 gant friend wishes to borrow money, consider which of 
 the two you had rather lose. It was a saying of Pithag- 
 oras that " all things should be common between friends; 
 our friend is another self. However many friends you 
 have, do not neglect yourself. Though you have a thou- 
 sand, not one of them loves you so much as you ought to 
 love yourself." 
 
 The following parable is translated from the German : 
 There was a man who had three friends; two of these 
 he loved exceedingly, but was indifferent to the third, 
 
FRIENDS. 447 
 
 who nevertheless dealt most honestly with hirn. One 
 day he was sommoned to appear before the tribunal, 
 where he was severely accused. Thinking himself inno- 
 cent, he spoke thus to his three friends: — "Who of you 
 will go with me and give evidence of my innocence? 
 For I have been severely accused, and the King is angry." 
 The first of his friends immediately excused himself that 
 he could not, on account of other affairs, go with him. 
 The second accompannied him as far as the door of the 
 court of justice, and then turned away and went home, 
 fearing the anger of the judge. The third, upon whom 
 he had least reckoned went in, spoke in his behalf, and 
 testified his innocence so joyfully that the judge released 
 the accused and loaded him with presents. Man has 
 three friends in this world. How do they conduct them- 
 selves, in the hour of death, when God summons him to 
 his tribunal? Wealth, his best worldly friend, is the first 
 to abandon him. His relatives and friends follow him to 
 the grave, and then return to their homes. The third 
 friend, whom he often during his life forgot, are his be- 
 neficent deeds. These alone accompany him to the 
 throne of the Judge; they lead the way, speak in his 
 behalf, and obtain mercy and grace. 
 
 When Socrates was asked why he had built for himself 
 so small a house, he replied, " Small as it is, I wish I 
 could fill it with friends." These, indeed, are all that a 
 wise man would desire to assemble ; for a crowd is not 
 company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures, and 
 talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love. 
 Without friends the world would be but a wilderness. It 
 has ever been my opinion, says Horace, that a cheerful, 
 good natured friend is so great a blessing, that it admits 
 of no comparison but itself. Cicero used to say, that it 
 was no less an evil for a man to be without a friend, than 
 the heavens to be without a sun. It is not the seeing of 
 one's friends, the having them within reach, the hearing 
 of and from them, that makes them ours. Many a one 
 has all that, and yet has nothing. It is believing in them, 
 the depending on them, assured that they are true and 
 good to the core, and therefore could not but be good 
 
448 FRIENDS. 
 
 and true towards everybody else, ourselves included, aye 
 whether we deserve it or not. It is not our deserts 
 which are in question ; it is their goodness, which, once 
 settled, the rest follows of course. They would be 
 untrue to themselves, if they were insincere or untrue 
 to us. 
 
 Princes have courtiers, and merchants have partners; 
 the voluptuous have companions, and the wicked have 
 accomplices ; none but the virtuous can have friends. 
 
 If you wish to know how many friends you have, get 
 into office ; if you wish to know how many friends you 
 haven't, get into trouble. 
 
 There are three kinds of friends — friends who love 
 you, friends who do not trouble themselves about you, 
 and friends who hate you. 
 
 We have need either of faithful friends or sharp ene- 
 mies. It is less dangerous to have a prudent enemy 
 than an indiscreet friend. There is more danger from a 
 pretended friend than lrom an open enemy. A friend 
 exaggerates a man's virtues, an enemy his crimes. 
 
 The man who has friends who would die for him, and 
 foes who would love to see him broiled alive, is usually 
 a man of some worth and force. The qualities of your 
 friends will be those of your enemies; cold friends, cold 
 enemies ; half friends, half enemies ; fervid enemies, warm 
 friends. Those who reprove us are more valuable friends 
 than those who flatter us. True progress requires either 
 faithful friends or severe enemies. Those who seem most 
 indifferent to us in our joy may prove the warmest friends 
 in our sorrow. The springs that are coldest in summer 
 never freeze in winter. He who will break his last loaf 
 with you, but never his faith, is a true friend. Account 
 him thy real friend who desires thy good, rather than thy 
 good- will. He loves you better who strives to make you 
 good, than he who strives to please you. Worthy minds 
 deny themselves many advantages to satisfy a generous 
 benevolence, which they bear to their friends in distress. 
 
 He is a good friend who supplies our wants, but he is 
 a better one who anticipates them. Showers that are 
 prayed for always come too late. Though we ought not 
 
FRIENDS. 449 
 
 to love our friends only, for the good they do us ; yet it 
 is plain they do not love us, if they do not assist us when 
 it is in their power. He that hath but few books, and 
 those good, may receive more improvement from them, 
 than another who hath a great number of indifferent 
 ones. So it is in the choice of our friends ; no matter how 
 few, if they be discreet and virtuous. It was a saying of 
 Aristotle that he is happy that finds a true friend in ex- 
 tremity; but he is much more so, who findeth not extrem- 
 ity, whereby to try his friend. 
 
 There is no pre-eminence among true friends; for 
 whether they are equally accomplished or not, they are 
 equally affected to each other. A false friend is like the 
 shadow on the sun-dial, appearing in sunshine, but van- 
 ishing in shade. 
 
 Prosperity is no just scale ; adversity is the only bal- 
 ance to weigh friends in. A man never has the least diffi- 
 culty in finding a devoted friend, except when he needs 
 one. Real friends are wont to visit us in our prosperity 
 only when invited, but in adversity to come on their own 
 accord. A friend is never known till needed. A friend 
 cannot be known in prosperity, and an enemy cannot be 
 hidden in adversity. If we lack the sagacity to discrimi- 
 nate nicely between our acquaintances and our friends, 
 misfortune will readily do it for us. Prosperity gains 
 friends, and adversity tries them. As it is virtue which 
 should determine us in the choice of our friends ; so it is 
 that alone which we should always regard in them, with- 
 out inquiring into their good or ill fortune. A friend will 
 tell you of your faults and follies in prosperity, and assist 
 you with his hands and heart in adversity. 
 
 A friend should be one in whose understanding and 
 virtue we can equally confide, and whose opinion we can 
 value at once for its justness and its sincerity. Rela- 
 tives are not necessarily our best friends, but they cannot 
 do us an injury without being enemies to themselves. A 
 friend is often more valuable than a relative. Go to 
 strangers for charity, acquaintances for advice, relatives 
 for nothing. A friend of everybody is a friend to 
 nobody. 
 
450 FRIENDS. 
 
 How to make and lose friends: You may win a friend 
 by doing him a service — but, in nine cases out of ten, 
 you will probably lose him again if you require him to 
 do you one. It is always in our power to make a friend 
 by smiles; what a folly, then, to make an enemy by 
 frowns. Never purchase friends by gifts, for if you cease 
 to give, they will cease to love. A friend that you buy 
 with presents will be bought from you. If you hear a 
 person saying that he hasn't a friend in the world, you 
 may be pretty sure that he doesn't deserve one. An act 
 by which we make one friend and one enemy is a losing 
 game, for revenge is a much stronger principle than grat- 
 itude. Some persons choose their friends as they do 
 other useful animals, preferring those from whom they 
 expect the most service. Procure no friends in haste, 
 nor, if once secured, in haste abandon them. 
 
 Be slow in choosing a friend, and slower to change 
 him ; courteous to all ; intimate with few ; slight no man 
 for poverty, nor esteem any one for his wealth. Good 
 friends should not be easily forgotten, nor used as suits 
 of apparel, which, when we have worn them threadbare, 
 we cast off, and call for new. When once you profess 
 yourself a friend, endeavor to be always such. He can 
 never have any true friends, that will be often changing 
 them. Whoever moves you to part with a true and tried 
 friend, has certainly a design to make way for a treach- 
 erous enemy. To part with a tried friend without very 
 great provocation, is unreasonable levity. Nothing but 
 plain malevolence can justify disunion. The loss of a 
 friend is like that of a limb ; time may heal the anguish 
 of the wound, but the loss cannot be repaired. You will 
 never have a friend if you must have one without a fail- 
 ing. It was a fine and true remark that they who will 
 abandon a friend for one error, know but little of the 
 human character, and prove that their hearts are cold as 
 their judgments are weak. All men have their frailties. 
 Whoever looks for a friend without imperfections, will 
 never find what he seeks; we love ourselves with all our 
 faults, and we ought to love our friends in like manner. 
 If we have not the indulgence to pardon our friends, nor 
 
FRIENDS. 451 
 
 they the same to pardon us, our friendship will last no 
 longer than it can serve both our interests. 
 
 One friend is not bound to bear a part in the follies of 
 another, but rather to dissuade him from them ; even 
 though he cannot consent to tell him plainly, as Phocian 
 did Antipater, who said to him, I cannot be both your 
 friend and flatterer. It is a good rule always to back 
 your friends and face your enemies. Whoever would 
 reclaim his friend, and bring him to a true and perfect 
 understanding of himself, may privately admonish, but 
 never publicly reprehend him. An open admonition is 
 an open disgrace. 
 
 Have the courage to cut the most agreeable acquaint- 
 ance you have, when you are convinced he lacks principle ; 
 a, friend should bear with a friend's infirmities, but not with 
 his vices. He that does a base thing in zeal for his friend, 
 burns the golden thread that ties their hearts together. 
 
 The friends of this world are but spies on our conduct. 
 
 A faithful friend is a good defense. 
 
 The friend who pardons a great wrong, acquires a su- 
 periority that wounds the self-love of the pardoned man ; 
 and, however much the latter may admire the generosity 
 of the forgiver, he can love as he had previously done — 
 no more. 
 
 To all men the best friend is virtue, the best compan- 
 ions are high endeavors and honorable sentiments. 
 
 Every deceased friend is a magnet that draws us into 
 another world. 
 
 He who is a friend to himself has seldom any lack of 
 enemies; but he who is his own enemy, is generally con- 
 sidered a clever fellow, and has a plenty of friends and 
 well-wishers. 
 
 " And hitherto doth love on fortune tend, 
 And who not needs, shall never lack a friend; 
 But who in want, a hollow friend doth try, 
 Directly seasons him his enemy." 
 
 He that is thy friend indeed, 
 
 He will help thee in thy need ; 
 
 If thou sorrow, he will weep ; 
 
 If thou wake, he cannot sleep ; 
 
 Thus, of every grief in heart, 
 
 He with thee doth bear a part. 
 », ... These are certain signs to know 
 
 >; " Faithful friend from nattering foe.— Siiak. 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 There is certainly something refining in an intimacy 
 cemented by the pure principles of Friendship. Mind 
 naturally seeks to commingle with its kindred spirit, and 
 doing so it grows better and wiser for the intercourse. 
 It seeks, too, for expansion — for a greater scope of power 
 — for a higher and holier state ; and in congenial society, 
 where high moral principles prevail, it finds food for its 
 growth. Hence we should cultivate the "ties of friend- 
 ship," and strive to enlarge that communion of spirit 
 whereby one is made better. We should seek ardently 
 for that better and higher state, and though we find we 
 may not make that rapid progress we desire, yet we 
 should take hope to secure all the improvement possible 
 from our privileges. We should strive the more to culti- 
 vate and merit the friendship of those whose worth shines 
 pre-eminent in their characters, making them patterns of 
 excellence for others to admire and imitate. 
 
 Friendship is a sweet attraction of the heart toward 
 the merit we esteem or the perfections we admire, and 
 produces a mutual inclination between two or more per- 
 sons, to promote each other's interest, knowledge virtue 
 and happiness. The sweetest and most satisfactory con- 
 nections in life are those formed between persons of con- 
 genial minds, equally linked together by the conformity 
 of their virtues, and by all the ties of esteem. Friend- 
 ship is the most sacred of all moral bonds. Trusts of 
 confidence, without any express stipulation or caution, 
 are yet, in the very nature of them, as sacred as if they 
 were guarded with a thousand articles or conditions. 
 Friendship has a notable effect upon all states and condi- 
 tions. It relieves our cares, raises our hopes, and abates 
 our fears. A friend who relates his success, talks him- 
 self into a new pleasure ; and by opening his misfortunes, 
 leaves part of them behind him. Friendship improves 
 happiness and abates misery, by the doubling of our joy 
 
 452 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 453 
 
 and dividing our grief. Charity is friendship in common 
 and friendship is charity inclosed.. 
 
 Friendship is but one of the manifold modes of ex- 
 pressing the Universal Brotherhood of the race. All 
 nations, kindred, tongues and people are bound together 
 in a deep and everlasting bond of Fraternity and Love, 
 the harmonial and universal expression of which exter- 
 nally would inaugurate the long-hoped-for millenrum. 
 This fraternal sentiment, paradoxical as it may appear, 
 underlies all wars, insurrections, social strife and personal 
 antipathies and antagonisms. If men would, in all their 
 disputes, national and individual, revert to this fact, and 
 consider that its orderly manifestation takes place only 
 through the laiv of Justice and equal rights, and their 
 perceptions were so clear as to trace it in all cases, how- 
 ever complicated, war, bloodshed and massacre would 
 disappear from the earth. If the military heroes, who 
 were parties to the following anecdote, had made friend- 
 ship before they broke each other's skulls, it would have 
 been just as cordial and enduring. So, if nations would 
 make friendship on the basis of Equity before they butch- 
 ered each other, it would be just as lasting and loving. 
 Powder and ball, since the world began, never made 
 wrong right or right wrong. Neither do wars, massacres 
 or butcheries alter in the least the natural, underlying 
 fraternal relations of the belligerents. They may modify 
 the external international relations, but they can never 
 essentially divorce man from man or nation from nation. 
 The fraternal bond was just as perfect and authoritative 
 before as after. Lieut. Montgomery had seen military 
 service. However, the wars were over, and he had 
 nought to do but lounge as best he could through half 
 pay. He was one day taking his ease at his tavern, when 
 he observed a stranger, evidently a foreigner, gazing in- 
 tently at him. The Lieutenant appeared not to notice 
 the intrusion, and shifted his position ; but the stranger 
 shifted too, and still with unblenched gaze stared. This 
 was too much for Montgomery, who arose and approached 
 the scrutinizing stanger. u Do you know me, sir?" asked 
 the Lieutenant. "I think I do," answered the foreigner. 
 
454 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 who was evidently a Frenchman. u Have we ever met 
 before?' continued Montgomery. "I will not swear to 
 it," said the stranger ; "but if we have — and I am almost 
 sure we have — you have a saber cut, a deep one, on your 
 right wrist." "I have," cried Montgomery, turning back 
 his sleeve and displaying a very broad and ugly scar. "I 
 did not get this for nothing, for the brave fellow who 
 made it was repaid by me with a gash across his scull." 
 The Frenchman removed his hat, bent down his head, and 
 parting his hair with his hands, he said, "You may look 
 at the receipt!" The next moment they were locked in 
 each other's arms. They became true friends for life. 
 
 Friendship is a flower that blooms in all seasons; it 
 may be seen flourishing on the snow-capped mountains 
 of Northern Russia, as well as in more favored valleys of 
 sunny Italy, every where cheering us by its exquisite and 
 indescribable charms. No surveyed chart, no national 
 boundary line, no rugged mountain or steep declining 
 vale, put a limit to its growth. Wherever it is watered 
 with the dews of kindness and affection, there you may 
 be sure to find it. Allied in closest companionship with 
 its twin sister, Charity, it enters the abode of sorrow and 
 wretchedness, and causes happiness and peace. It 
 knocks at the lonely and disconsolate heart; and speaks 
 words of encouragement and joy. Its all-powerful influ- 
 ence hovers o'er contending armies, and unites the 
 deadly foes in the closest bonds of sympathy and kind- 
 ness. Its eternal and universal fragrance dispels every 
 poisoned thought of envy, and purifies the mind with a 
 holy and priceless contentment, which all the pomp and 
 power of earth could not bestow. In vain do we look 
 for this heavenly flower in the cold, calculating worldling ; 
 the poor, deluded wretch is dead to every feeling of its 
 ennobling virtue. In vain do we look for it in the actions 
 of the proud and aristocratic votaries of fashion; the 
 love of self-display, and of the false and fleeting pleas- 
 ures of the world, has banished it forever from their 
 hearts. In vain do we look for it in the thoughtless and 
 practical throng, who with loud laugh, and extended 
 open hands, proclaim obedience to its laws — while at the 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 455 
 
 same time the canker of malice and envy and detraction 
 is enthroned in their hearts, and active on their tongues. 
 Friendship, true friendship, can only be found to bloom 
 in the soil of a noble and self-sacrificing heart ; there it 
 has a perennial summer, a never-ending season of felicity 
 and joy to its happy possessor, casting a thousand rays 
 of love and hope and peace to all around. 
 
 The first law of friendship is sincerity ; and he who 
 violates this law, will soon find himself destitute of what 
 he so erringly seeks to gain; for the deceitful heart of 
 such an one will soon betray itself, and feel the contempt 
 due to insincerity. The world is so full of selfishness, 
 that true friendship is seldom found ; yet it is often sought 
 for paltry gain by the base and designing. Behold that 
 toiling miser, with his ill-got and worthless treasures ; his 
 soul is never moved by the hallowed influence of the 
 sacred boon of friendship, which renews again on earth 
 lost Eden's faded bloom, and flings hope's halcyon halo 
 over the wastes of life. The envious man, — he, too, 
 seeks to gain the applause of others for an unholy usage, 
 by which he may usurp a seat of pre-eminence for him- 
 self. Self-love, the spring of motion, acts upon his soul. 
 All are fond of praise, and many are dishonest in the use 
 of means to obtain it; hence it is often difficult to dis- 
 tinguish between true and false friendship — for 
 
 " Disguise so near the truth doth seein to run, 
 1 Tis doubtful whom to seek or whom to shun ; 
 Nor know we when to spare or when to strike, 
 Our friends and foes they seem so much alike." 
 
 There are in human life three tragedies of friendship. 
 Thirst, the deficiency of it — there is so much less than we 
 want. Few are satisfied with their share, or would be if 
 they thought and felt enough to know the depths of 
 their own hearts. "The friend is some fair, floating isle 
 of palms, eluding us mariners in the Pacific seas." Many 
 and many a man might sigh from his death-bed, "I have 
 pined and prayed all my life, and never found one friend 
 to satisfy my heart;" and the breast-harp of millions, 
 + med to the same experience, would murmur in melan- 
 
456 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 choly repose through the halls of the world. Secondly, 
 the decay or loss of it. Sometimes it cools from day to 
 day — warm confidence giving gradual place to chill civil- 
 ity, civilities swiftly becoming icy husk of neglect and 
 repugnance. Sometimes its relics touch us with a pang, 
 or we stand at its grave, sobbing, " wounded with a grief 
 whose balsam never grew." Thirdly, the desecration and 
 expulsion of it by hypocrites and traitors. The harshest 
 draught in the cup of life is wrung from betrayed affec- 
 tions. When the guiding light of friendship is quenched 
 in deception, the freezing gloom that surrounds our path 
 grows palpable, and drooping faith and hope perish in 
 its shade. Let one find cold repulse or mocking treachery 
 where he has garnered up his dearest treasures, and it is 
 not strange if he feels as though the firm realities of 
 time and sense had become shadows, and the solid globe 
 broken like an empty bead of foam. 
 
 Life is to be fortified by many friendships, says Sidney 
 Smith. To love and to be loved is the greatest happi- 
 ness of existence. If I lived under the burning sun of 
 the equator it would be a pleasure to me to think that 
 there were human beings on the other side of the world 
 who regarded and respected me ; I could not and would 
 not live if I were alone upon the earth and cut off from 
 the remembrance of my fellow-creatures. It is not that 
 a man has occasion to fall back upon the kindness of his 
 friends. Perhaps he may never experience the necessity 
 of doing so ; but we are governed by our imaginations, 
 and they stand there as a solid bulwark against all the 
 evils of life. Friendship should be formed with persons 
 of all ages and conditions, and with both sexes. I have 
 a friend who is a bookseller, to whom I have been very 
 civil, and who would do anything to serve me; and I 
 have two or three small friendships among persons in 
 much humbler walks of life, who, I verily believe, do me 
 a considerable kindness according to their means. I am 
 for a frank explanation with friends in cases of affronts. 
 They sometimes save a perishing friendship, and even 
 place it upon a firmer basis than at first; but secret dis- 
 content must always end badly. Friendship, founded on 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 457 
 
 the principles of worldly morality, recognized by virtu- 
 ous heathens, such as that which subsisted between Atti- 
 €us and Cicero, which the last of these illustrious men 
 has rendered immortal, is fitted to survive through all 
 the vicissitudes of life; but it belongs only to a union 
 founded on religion, to continue through an endless dura- 
 tion. The former of these stood the shock of conflicting 
 opinions, and of a revolution that shook the world; the 
 latter is destined to survive when the heavens are no 
 more, and to spring fresh from the ashes of the universe. 
 The former possessed all the stability which is possible 
 to sublunary things; the latter partakes of the eternity 
 of God. Friendship founded on worldly principles is 
 natural, and though composed of the best elements of 
 nature, is not exempt from its mutability and frailty: the 
 latter is spiritual, and therefore unchanging and imperish- 
 able. The friendship which is founded on kindred tastes 
 and congenial habits, apart from piety, is permitted by 
 the benignity of Providence to embellish a world, which, 
 with all its magnificence and beauty, will shortly pass 
 away; that which has religion for its basis will ere long 
 be transplanted in order to adorn the paradise of God. 
 
 There is true enjoyment in that friendship which has 
 its source in the innocence and uprightness of a true 
 heart. Such pleasures do greatly sweeten life, easing it 
 from many a bitter burden. A sympathizing heart finds 
 an echo in sympathizing bosoms that brings back cheer- 
 ing music to the spirit of the loveliest. Be all honor, 
 then, to true friendship, and may it gather yet more fra- 
 grant blossoms from the dew-bathed meadows of social 
 intercourse to spread their aroma along the toil-worn 
 road of life. What a blessing it is to have a friend to 
 whom one can speak fearlessly upon any subject ; with 
 whom one's deepest thoughts come simply and safely. 
 O, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort, of feeling safe 
 with a person — having neither to weigh the thoughts nor 
 measure the words, but pouring them all right out, just as 
 they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful 
 hand will take and sift them ; keep what is worth keeping, 
 and then, with the breath of kindness, blow the rest away. 
 
458 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 A time comes in every human friendship, says Thomas 
 Hughes, when you must go down into the depths of your- 
 self, and lay bare what is there to your friend, and wait 
 in fear for his answer. A few moments may do it ; and 
 it may be that you never do it but once. But done it 
 must be, if the friendship is to be worth the name. You 
 must find what is there, at the very root and bottom of 
 one another's hearts; and if you are at one there, noth- 
 ing on earth can, or at least ought to, sunder you. There 
 can be no friendship where there is no freedom. Friend- 
 ship loves a free air, and will not be penned in straight 
 and narrow enclosures. It will speak freely, and act so 
 too; and take no ill where no ill is meant; nay, when it 
 is, it will easily forgive, and forget too, upon small ac- 
 knowledgements. Without confidence, friendship is a 
 mockery, and social intercourse a sort of war in disguise. 
 The highest pleasure in friendship, is a free communica- 
 tion of all thoughts, designs, and counsels. Aristotle 
 says, friendship is one soul in two bodies. 
 
 A great advantage of friendship, is the opportunity ot 
 receiving good advice; it is dangerous to rely always 
 upon our own opinion. Miserable is his case, who, when 
 he needs, hath none to admonish him. It will be very 
 fit for all that have entered into any strict friendship, to 
 make this one special article in the agreement, that they 
 shall mutually admonish and reprove each other. The 
 difficult province in friendship is the letting a man see his 
 faults and errors, which should, if possible, be so contrived, 
 that he may perceive our advice is given him not so 
 much to please ourselves as for his own advantage. The 
 reproaches therefore of a friend should always be strictly 
 just and not too frequent. 
 
 The best friendship is to prevent a request, and never 
 put a man to the confusion of asking. To ask is a word 
 that lies heavily on the tongue, and cannot be uttered 
 but with a dejected countenance. We should therefore 
 strive to meet our friend in his wishes, if we cannot as- 
 sist him. Friendship is more firmly secured by lenity 
 towards failings than by attachment to excellences. The 
 former is valued as kindness which cannot be claimed, 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 459 
 
 the latter is exacted as a payment of a debt to merit. 
 The longer we live and the more we think, the higher 
 value we learn to put on the friendship and tenderness of 
 parents and friends. If we are loved by those around 
 us, we can easily bear the hostility of the world; just as, 
 if we are before a warm fire, we need not care for all the 
 ice in the Polar regions. 
 
 A Mountain is made up of atoms, and friendship of 
 little matters and if the atoms hold not together, the 
 mountain is crumbled into dust. A friendship that 
 makes the least noise is often the most useful; for which 
 reason I should prefer a prudent friend to a zealous one. 
 Friendship is a silent gentleman that makes no parade; 
 the true heart dances no hornpipe on the tongue. Friend- 
 ship is like phosphorus. It shines best when all around 
 is dark. 
 
 That friendship which consists only in the reciproca- 
 tion of civil offices, is but a kind of traffic ; and it abides 
 no longer than whilst such men can be useful to one an- 
 other. It is a negotiation, not a friendship, that has an 
 eye to advantages. A friendship of interest lasts no 
 longer than the interest continues : whereas true affection 
 is of the nature of a diamond ; it is lasting, and it is hard 
 to break. The friendship of an artful man is mere self 
 interest ; you will get nothing and may lose much by it. 
 The friendships of the world are often confederacies in 
 vice or leagues of pleasure. Never contract friendship 
 with a man who is no better than thyself. 
 
 Many begin friendships, and cancel them on slight oc- 
 casions ; and great enmity often succeeds a tender affec- 
 tion. Let friendship creep gently to a height ; if it rush 
 to it, it may soon run itself out of breath. Friendship 
 often ends in love; but love in friendship — never. A 
 gentle acceptance of courtesies is as material to maintain 
 friendship, as bountiful presents. 
 
 There is requisite to friendship more goodness and 
 virtue, than dexterity of wit, or height of understanding ; 
 it being enough, that men have sufficient prudence to be 
 as good as they should be, in order to the completing of 
 a virtuous friendship. The water tha,t flows from a spring 
 
460 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 does not congeal in the winter. And those sentiments 
 of friendship which flow from the heart cannot be frozeD 
 by adversity. Nothing can impair perfect friendship # 
 because truth is the only bond of it. 
 
 Friendship can never suffer so much by any other kind 
 of wrong, as by that of a causeless suspicion. Dr. John- 
 son says that "among the enemies of friendship are sus- 
 picion and disgust The former is always hardening the 
 •cautious, the latter always repelling the delicate." Noth- 
 ing is more grievous than the loss of his friendship whom 
 we have greatly esteemed, and least feared would fail us. 
 Friendship is a vase, which, when it is flawed by heat, or 
 violence, or accident, may as well be broken at once; 
 it never can be trusted after. The more graceful and or- 
 namental it was, the more clearly, do we discern the 
 hopelessness of restoring it to its former state. Coarse 
 stones, if they are fractured, may be cemented again; 
 precious ones, never. There is so great a charm in 
 friendship, that there is even a kind of pleasure in ac- 
 knowledging ourself duped by the sentiment it inspires. 
 
 Friendship with a generous stranger, is commonly 
 more steady than with the nearest relation. Being some- 
 times asunder heightens friendship. The great cause of 
 the frequent quarrels between relations is their being so 
 much together. Constant companionship is not enjoya- 
 ble, any more than constant eating is a possibility. We 
 sit too long at the table of friendship when we out-sit 
 our appetites for each other's thoughts. 
 
 If the minds be consonant, says Dr. Fuller, the best 
 friendship is between different fortunes. Says Lord 
 Bacon, there is little friendship in the world, and least of 
 all between equals, who are wont to be magnified. That 
 which is, is between superior and inferior, whose fortunes 
 may comprehend each other. 
 
 Whatever is excellent hath most of unity ; and as a 
 river divided into several streams, is more weak, so friend- 
 ship shared amongst many, is always languid and impo- 
 tent. It is said to be a certain principle, that friendship 
 cannot long subsist between many persons. 
 
HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 Every man is a volume, if you but knew how to read 
 him. There is a great deal in a face ; all the interest of 
 life depends on face. A thousand acts of thought, and 
 will, and deed, shape the features and expression of the 
 soul — habits of love, and purity, and truth — habits of 
 falsehood, malice and uncleanliness — silently mould and 
 fashion it, till at length it wears the likeness of God, or 
 the image and superscription of the Evil One. 
 
 One of the most interesting branches of physiognomy 
 would be the study of that influence which a frequent 
 repetition of analogous sentiments and thoughts exer- 
 cises on the countenance. Difficult as this examination 
 is, its object is not chimerical. Often-recurring emotions 
 act on the features like those geological changes by which 
 a rock is either gradually disintegrated, or slowly raised 
 up to a higher level. Close observations can establish a 
 relation between an expression and the fact that is most 
 likely to have influenced it. Thus it may be ascertained 
 that there is an indescribable sort of flash or light in the 
 eye of a person telling a falsehood, as if the mind was 
 making an effort, as it were, to swerve from the truth, 
 thereby causing more nervous power to be evolved from 
 the eye than on usual occasions. Frequent acts of de- 
 ception imprint a peculiar cast to the features. Again, 
 frequent mental labor appends its signet to the features ; a 
 number of occupations leave their stamp on the face. 
 Who cannot discover the gambler as he promenades 
 Broadway? Dress him as you will; put on him the 
 blackest of broadcloths, and the whitest neckcloth, and 
 you cannot disguise the hard, coarse features which his 
 thoughts and mind have chiselled on his face. 
 
 It is asserted that married people who have lived long 
 together, and have thought, and cared, and worked for 
 the same object, come at last to look like each other, and 
 even if the features are very unlike, the expression of 
 both faces will be the same. 
 
 461 
 
-462 RXMAX NATURE. 
 
 The Rev. Orville Dewey in one of his lectures on the 
 Problem of Human Destiny, remarks: — ik The expression 
 of the face is a beautiful distinction of humanity. We 
 are little aware of the influence which it constantly ex- 
 erts. If the dumb animals, on whom man exerts his 
 cruelty, if the horse or dog. when suffering by a blow 
 from the violence of man, could turn upon him with a 
 look of indignation or appeal, could any one resist the 
 power of mute expostulation? How extraordinary, too, 
 the difference of expression in the human face, by which 
 the recognition of personal identity is secured. On this 
 small surface, nine inches by six, are depicted such vari- 
 ous traits, that among the millions of inhabitants of the 
 earth, no two have the same lineaments of the face. 
 What dire confusion would ensue if all countenances 
 were alike ; if fathers did not know their own children 
 by sight, nor husband their wives! But now we could 
 pick out our friends from among the multitudes of the 
 universe/' 
 
 " Nature," says Thackary, ''has written a letter of 
 credit upon some men's faces, which is honored almost 
 wherever presented.'' 
 
 With regard to the study of the face, a story is told of 
 the great French satirist, which finely illustrates his 
 knowledge of human nature. He was traveling in Ger- 
 many, in entire ignorance of its language and currency. 
 Having obtained some small change for some of his 
 French coins, he used to pay coachmen and others in the 
 following manner — taking a handful of the numismatical 
 specimens from his pocket, he counted them one by one, 
 into the creditor's hands, keeping his eye fixed all the 
 time on the receiver's face. As soon as he perceived the 
 least twinkle of a smile, he took back the last coin de- 
 posited in the hand, and returned it, with the remainder, 
 to his pocket. He afterwards found that, in pursuing 
 this method, he had not overpaid for anything. 
 
 The mouth is a feature upon which very much of the 
 character of the face depends. No woman can be a 
 pretty woman who has an ugly mouth. To the most reg- 
 ular features a gaping mouth, or ugly, drooping, badly 
 
HUMAN NATURE. 463 
 
 formed lips, will give an air of listless ignorance, or half 
 idiocy, which is repulsive. Firmness, general decision, 
 cruelty, softness and gentleness of mind, love of our fel- 
 lows, eloquence, spite, vindictiveness, generosity, and 
 strength of character, are all indicated by the mouth. It 
 is incumbent, therefore, with astute and cunning men — 
 with those who are crafty and politic, and who plot 
 against humanity — to conceal the workings of the mouth. 
 As Caesar covered his baldness with a laurel crown, so a 
 modern Caesar covers his lips with a thick drooping 
 moustache; in this, too, nature has admirably aided him. 
 Forrester, the Bow street runner, and Fouche, Napoleon's 
 celebrated chef of police, almost invariably detected the 
 guilty by noticing the play of the lips. Forrester, in his 
 curious "Memoirs," has frequently told us that he saw 
 u guilt upon the lip" of more than one whom he sus- 
 pected; and his sagacity, if not unerring, was great. But 
 who can watch the play of the mouth when it is covered 
 by a thick grove of moustache! All the celebrated 
 police agents, from Fouche to inspector Whicher, have 
 been completely puzzled by such. It is well, therefore, 
 on important occasions, to conceal the mouth. It is too 
 sure an index of character. Thin, pale lips, are supposed 
 to be indicative of ill-temper. They are more surely, 
 perhaps, the consequence of a weekly and not too healthy 
 habit of body. A very thin nether lip, clenched teeth, 
 and a pale cheek, have been for ages the stock in trade 
 of the fictionist when he wishes to draw a conspirator; 
 and the painter has followed him. Judas, in many of the 
 early Italian pictures, is seen biting his under lip. Rich- 
 ard the Third, as portrayed by Holingshed, and by Shak- 
 speare, had a simiiar habit. Men of nervous and excit- 
 able temperament have, especially if suspicious, a habit 
 of plucking at their lips and distorting their mouths. 
 Small mouths are very much praised, and have been for 
 a long time much in fashion. Fashionable painters and 
 artists for the u Book of Beauty" have carried this small- 
 ness of mouth to an absurdity. You will see engravings 
 of ladies with mouths considerably smaller than their 
 eyes, which, of course presuming the face to be in due 
 
464 HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 proportion, is as much a monstrosity as if the mouth, like 
 that of a giant in a pantomime, extended from ear to ear. 
 The female mouth should not be too small. From what 
 we can gather from contemporary portraits, supposing 
 them to be true, both Queen Elizabeth and Mary, Queen 
 of Scots, had mouths much too small to be handsome. 
 That of the former, the greatest female monarch who has 
 ever existed, should have at least indicated her capacious 
 mind. That of Queen Charlotte was ugly ; that of the 
 princess of that name was a true Brunswick mouth, ex- 
 hibiting the two front teeth, from the shortness and 
 curious elevation of the upper lip, which is perpetuated 
 in the males of the present royal family. The house of 
 Hapsburg had also a very ugly mouth, celebrated as the 
 Austrian mouth. 
 
 Certain masters of ceremonies have written much on 
 the expression of the mouth. "It is," says one, "the 
 feature which is called into play the most frequently ; and, 
 therefore even where beauty of form exists, careful train- 
 ing is needed, to enable it to perform correctly its mani- 
 fold duties. An elegant manner of utterance renders 
 words, insignificant in themselves, agreeable and persua- 
 sive. In the act of eating, skillful management is nec- 
 essary. A laugh is a very severe test to this feature." 
 Mr. Dickens, whose observation is very wide, has ridi- 
 culed such teaching, when he makes one of his superfine 
 old women instruct his pupils in the formation of the lips 
 by uttering three magic words — potatoes, prunes, and 
 prism. And we presume that when Lord Byron nearly 
 fainted at the sight of his wife enjoying a rumpsteak, the 
 skillful management of his Ada's mouth was neglected. 
 
 Turning from such foppery to the poets, we may con- 
 clude by saying that from the Greek Anthology, down- 
 ward to the fluent young fellows who write songs for the 
 music publishers, thousands of lines have been written 
 in praise of ladies' mouths. The Latins and the Italians 
 have paid great attention to this feature ; rosy lips, pearly 
 and violet breath, have been for ages the stock in trade 
 of the poets. But, perhaps, the best thing said of them 
 are by an Irish and an English poet. The Irishman, hy- 
 
HUMAN NATURE. 465 
 
 perbolically, likens the mouth of his charmer to u a dish 
 of strawberries smothered in crame;" and Sir John Suck- 
 ling paints to the life the pretty pouting under lip of a 
 beauty, in his "Ballad on a Wedding:" 
 
 " Her lips were red, and one was thin, 
 Compared to that was next her chin — 
 Some bee had stung it newly." 
 
 What I am about to record may surprise some people ; 
 but I have always noticed that in women who have an 
 extremely small mouth, there is seldom observed that 
 amiableness of disposition and character, which is so fre- 
 quently found in those who have a handsome mouth of 
 moderate size. It would seem that too small a mouth in- 
 dicates a weakness which degenerates into affectation. 
 The last mentioned quality seems to be so inseparably 
 attached to smallness of the mouth, that even those 
 females who have an ordinary mouth, when they are going 
 to be affected, always begin by contracting that part. 
 
 The language of the eye is very hard to counterfeit. 
 You can read in the eyes of your< companion, while you 
 talk, whether your argument hits him, though his tongue 
 will not confess it. There is a look by which a man 
 allows he is going to say a good thing, and a look when 
 he has said it. Vain and forgotten are all the fine offices 
 of hospitality if there be no holiday in the eye. How many 
 furtive invitations are avowed by the eye, though dis- 
 sembled by the lips. A man comes away from a com- 
 pany; he heard no important remark, but if in sym- 
 pathy with the society he is innocent of such a stream 
 of life as has been flowing to him through the eye. 
 There are eyes which give no more admission into them 
 than blackberries. Others are liquid, and deep wells 
 that men might fall into. And others are oppressive and 
 devouring, and take too much notice. There are asking 
 eyes, and asserting eyes, and prowling eyes, and eyes 
 full of faith — some of good, and some of sinister omen. 
 
 Says Oliver Wendell Holmes, look a man calmly 
 through the very center of his pupils and ask him for 
 anything with a tone implying entire conviction that he 
 
 30 
 
466 HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 will grant it, and he will very commonly consent to the 
 thing asked, were it to commit Hari-Kari. 
 
 It is said that all the Presidents of the United States, 
 except General Harrison, had blue eyes. Among the 
 great men of the world, the blue eyes appear to have 
 been predominant. Socrates, Shakspeare, Locke, Bacon, 
 Milton, Goethe, Franklin, Napoleon and Humboldt, all had 
 blue eyes. The blue-eyed boys win all the prizes in 
 shooting at the English volunteer trials. Black eyes are 
 at a discount, therefore, since they fail early too. Dr. 
 Leask wrote years ago, "Men with gray eyes are gener- 
 ally keen, energetic and at first cold; but you may de- 
 pend upon their sympathy with real sorrow. Search the 
 ranks of our benevolent men, and you will agree with 
 me." Dark blue eyes are most common in persons of 
 delicate, refined, or effeminate nature; light blue, and 
 much more gray eyes, in the hardy and active. Greenish 
 eyes have generally the same meaning as the gray. Hazel 
 eyes are the more usual indications of a mind masculine, 
 vigorous and profound. 
 
 "Black eyes most dazzle in a hall ; 
 Blue eyes most please at evening fall ; 
 The hlack a conquest soonest gain, 
 The blue a conquest most retain ; 
 The black bespeak a lively heart, 
 Whose soft emotions soon depart ; 
 The blue a steadier flame betray, 
 That burns and lives beyond a day , 
 The black may features best disclose ; 
 The blue may feelings all repose." 
 
 "A gray eye 
 Is still and sly ; 
 A roguish, 
 Is the brown ; 
 The eye of blue 
 Is ever true; 
 But, in the black eye's 
 Sparkling spell, 
 Mystery 
 And mischief dwell 1 " 
 
 The eye is both the inlet and outlet of a great deal of 
 wickedness — witness Joseph's mistress, Samson and Da- 
 vid; and we read of eyes full of adultery, that cannot 
 cease from sin. We need, therefore, with holy Job, to 
 
HUMAN NATURE. 467 
 
 make a covenant with our eyes ; a bargain with them, 
 that they should have the pleasure of beholding the 
 light of the sun and the works of God, provided they 
 would never fasten or dwell on anything that might occa- 
 sion impure imaginations or desires. What have we the 
 covering of the eyes for but to restrain corrupt glances, 
 and to keep out defiling impressions? And if looking 
 be lust, they who dress, and deck, and expose themselves, 
 with design to be looked at and lusted after, like Jezebel, 
 who painted her face, tired her head and looked out of 
 the window, are no less guilty. Men sin, but devils 
 tempt to sin. A chaste eye exiles licentious looks. 
 
 It is said that Napoleon selected his officers with ref- 
 erence to their noses. Napoleon used to say: "Strange 
 as it may appear, when I want any good hard work done, 
 I choose a man, provided his education has been suitable, 
 with a long nose. His breathing is bold and free, his 
 brain, as well as his lungs and heart, cool and clear. In 
 my observation of men, I have almost invariably found a 
 long nose and a long head together." 
 
 We extract the following from Temple Bar: "The 
 more any one studies the nose, the more will he appre- 
 ciate its importance. Noses mark the peculiarities of 
 races, and the gradations of society. The noses of the 
 Australians, the Esquimaux, and the Negroes — broad, flat, 
 and weak, mark their mental and moral characteristics. 
 The striking differences between the African Negro and 
 the North American Indian are sculptured on their noses. 
 In the mingled races and different classes of our own 
 country we find the largest variety, and everywhere, if 
 we but examine, the nose is the index of the class as well 
 as of character. The noses of the aristocracy are not 
 those of the democracy ; and how could one more appro- 
 priately express his contempt for an inferior than by 
 turning up his nose at him? Do you see the same kind 
 of noses at the east end of the town as at the west? in 
 the stalls and dress circle of the opera, and in the six- 
 penny pit and three-penny gallery of the minor theatre ? 
 at a prize fight and a fashionable evening party ? In 
 smaller towns where social grades are brought nearer 
 
468 HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 together, and can be more readily examined, the contrast 
 is very remarkable. Dublin, for instance, presents us 
 with a perfect gamut of noses, from the most diminutive 
 small potato pug to the symmetrical Grecian and haughty 
 Roman. The pug in rags drives along in a picturesque 
 donkey cart, the elegant Grecian, in its statuesque beauty, 
 glides past on the side-walk ; the Roman reclines in a 
 carriage, whose panels exhibit the insignia of ancient 
 rank and dominion. There are Irish faces of children 
 and of savages, simply good or fearfully bad, and there 
 are also those of the highest culture and refinement. 
 Beauty, genius, valor, and nobility have their home 
 there; but these find their opposites, in a strange prox- 
 imity. If you look at the progress of the individual life, 
 the contour of the nose marks all its stages. Who ever 
 saw a baby with a Roman or aquiline nose or even a 
 Grecian? The baby nose is a little snub, the nose of 
 weakness and undevelopment. The child's nose keeps 
 its inward curve; in youth it straightens; and then 
 comes, in certain characters and races, the bold outward 
 curve of the aquiline or the stronger prominence of the 
 Roman. It may stop at any point in this march of pro- 
 gress, and present a case of arrested development. And 
 we all feel instinctively that a certain shaped nose is the 
 proper index of a certain character." 
 
 Josh Billings says, " There iz probably no feetur uv the 
 human countenance, that hez been diskivered yet, that 
 so much advertises the insides uv a man's karacter, ez 
 the nose." 
 
 One may judge of the spirits and disposition of a man 
 by his gait and mien in walking. He who habitually 
 pursues abstract thought, looks down on the ground. 
 He who is accustomed to sudden impulses, or is trying 
 to seize upon necessary recollection, looks up with a kind 
 of jerk. He who is a steady, cautious, merely practical 
 man, walks on deliberately, his eyes straight before him ; 
 and even in his most musing moods, observes things 
 around sufficiently to avoid a porter's knot or a butcher's 
 tray. But the man with strong impulses — of pushing, 
 lively temperament, who, though practical, is not specula- 
 
HUMAN NATURE. 469 
 
 tive — the man who is emulous and active, and ever trying 
 to rise in life — sanguine, alert, bold — walks with a spring, 
 looks rather above the heads of his fellow passengers, but 
 with a quick, easy turn of his own, which is lightly set 
 on his shoulders ; his mouth is a little open ; his eye is 
 bright, rather restless, but penetrative ; his port has some- 
 thing of defiance ; his form erect without stiffness. 
 
 Observing persons move slow — their heads move alter- 
 nately from side to side, while they occasionally stop and 
 turn round. Careful persons lift their feet high, and 
 place them down flat and firm. Sometimes they stoop 
 down, pick up some little obstruction, and place it quietly 
 by the side of the way. Calculating persons generally 
 walk with their hands in their pockets, and their heads 
 slightly inclined. Modest persons generally step softly 
 for fear of being observed. Timid persons often step 
 off from the side-walk on meeting another, and always 
 go round a stone, instead of stepping over it. Wide 
 awake persons "toe out," and have a long swing to their 
 arms, while their hands shake about mischievously. 
 Careless persons are forever stubbing their toes. Lazy 
 persons scrape about loosely with their heels, and are 
 first on one side of the walk and then on the other. 
 Very strong-minded persons have their toes directly in 
 front of them, and have a kind of stamp movement. 
 Unstable persons walk fast and slow by turns. Venturous 
 persons try all roads, frequently climb the fences instead 
 of going through the gate, and never let down a bar. 
 One-idea persons and very selfish ones "toe in." Cross 
 persons are apt to hit their knees together. Good-natured 
 persons snap their thumb and finger every few steps. 
 Fun-loving persons have a kind of jig movement. Ab- 
 sent minded persons often take the wrong road, and 
 sometimes find themselves up to their knees in the mud- 
 puddle, although the side-walks are excellent. Dignified 
 men move slow and erect. Fast persons cut across the 
 corner, kick every dog they meet, knock down the little 
 children ; run against the ladies, and hit every twelfth man's 
 ribs with their elbows. Very neat men occasionally stop 
 to wipe the dust from their boots — their hands hang by 
 
470 HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 their sides. Yery polite persons are sometimes seen 
 bowing in their course to black servants and sometimes 
 to black stumps. 
 
 There is culture not less in carriage than behavior. 
 The seneschal in old castles could rank all the guests 
 without error, by their conduct. 
 
 The hands are, by the very instincts of humanity, 
 raised in prayer; clasped in affection; wrung in despair; 
 pressed on the forehead when the soul is u perplexed in 
 the extreme;" drawn inward to invite ; thrust objectively 
 to repel; the fingers point to indicate; and they are 
 snapped in disdain ; the palm is laid upon the heart as an 
 indication of subdued feeling; and on the brow of the 
 compassioned in benediction. The expressive capacity 
 of the hands was never more strikingly displayed than in 
 the orisons of the deaf and dumb. Their teacher stood 
 with closed eyes and addressed the Deity by those signs 
 made by the fingers which constitute a language far from 
 speechless. Around him were grouped more than a hun- 
 dred mutes, who followed with reverent glances, every 
 motion. It was a visible but not an audible worship. 
 
 The ancients believed that the individual whose hair 
 was straight and lank, was weak and cowardly. Frizzly 
 hair was indicative of coarseness and clumsiness. The 
 hair that specially won their admiration was that which, 
 flowing down, terminated in ringlets. The Emperor Au- 
 gustus was favored by nature with wonderfully fine and 
 abundant hair. Auburn or light brown tresses were 
 thought the most distinguished, and the possessor of hair 
 of either tint was pre-supposed to be intelligent, indus- 
 trious, and of a peaceful disposition. Black hair was not 
 held in esteem by the Romans. Red hair was positively 
 hideous in their eyes. Ages before the time of Judas it was 
 an object of aversion. It was even held to be an omen of 
 wickedness in its possessor. Fortunately, these old-time 
 prejudices have quite worn away. Men no longer base 
 their estimate of character upon the color of the hair. 
 
 There is a true saying in the Vicar of Wakefield, to the 
 effect that when men talk about "studying human na- 
 ture," they almost invariably mean studying it on the 
 
HUMAN NATURE. 471 
 
 bad side. One of the first things a young man proceeds 
 to do when he "starts in life," or gets old enough to begin 
 to think on his own responsibility, is to " study human 
 nature." As a rule, the first few months complete his 
 education in this direction, and he spends the remainder 
 of his life in learning that he knows very little about hu- 
 man nature after all. A young man flatters himself that 
 he is " studying human nature" when he visits all kinds 
 of vile places, dance houses, concert saloons, and the va- 
 rious haunts of vice which a great city affords, as if 
 human nature sunk, beneath masses of moral filth, and 
 blackened by contact with wretchedness and crime, were 
 especially worthy of the student's attention as represen- 
 tative of the race; it is an insult to humanity. All honor 
 to those, like Charles Dickens, who have been among the 
 wretched and vicious, among the sons and daughters of 
 darkness, tor a direct purpose, and that purpose one of 
 good to our race. They have found pearls covered with 
 filth, and diamonds among the rubbish and offal of hu- 
 manity. But we have no sympathy with that morbid 
 curiosity, that affectation of studying human nature, which 
 continually leads so many of our young men into places 
 where some such excuse is necessary for the sake of de- 
 cency and respectability. Is there not as much "human 
 nature " to be studied in the decent walks of life where 
 nature is nature, and not where she is forced out of her own 
 chosen paths by suffering and desperation ? He who seeks 
 for vice, and falsehood, and treachery, as exponents of hu- 
 man nature, will find enough of each around him and above 
 him ; he need not go below his own level. Business men 
 often flatter themselves that they have accomplished the 
 study of human nature when they can detect the face of 
 the rogue or the hypocrite among their customers or ac- 
 quaintances. This is a very low branch of the study. 
 There are all the forms of purity and virtue, love, charity, 
 gentleness, the thousand delicate emotions of the heart, 
 and the exquisite shades of thought and feeling, hopes and 
 aspirations — are none of these worth studying ? 
 
 It is said a woman never confesses that she laces tight; 
 that her shoes are too small for her ; that she is as old as 
 
472 HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 she looks; that she paints ; that she is ever tired at a ball; 
 that she has been more than five minutes dressing ; that 
 she has kept you waiting ; that she blushed when a cer- 
 tain person's name was mentioned; that she ever says a 
 thing she does not mean ; that she can't keep a secret ; 
 that she is ever in the wrong ; that she don't argue ; that 
 she is ugly ; that she has a bad memory ; that she in- 
 tended to give offence ; that she has ever been in love ; 
 that she ever " jews " a shopkeeper ; that she is hard to 
 please; that she is vain; that she has ever flirted; that 
 she is too old to marry. 
 
 The following anecdote told by Dr. Baird in a recent 
 lecture, will bear repeating: Shortly after Bonaparte 
 was made First Consul and had installed himself in the 
 Palace of the Tuilleries, he held a grand reception and 
 ball. But he experienced at an early day of his career 
 no little difficulty in organizing his court and making 
 matters go smoothly. When the supper was ready, the 
 ladies were summoned first, the gentlemen being under 
 the necessity of waiting until their " betters " were served. 
 Two thousand ladies, showily, if not tastefully dressed, 
 rushed forward to the doors of the great dining hall, one 
 of the largest and most splendid dining rooms in Europe. 
 The great folding doors were closed, and the officers of 
 the palace found it impossible to get them open, for the 
 ladies pressed against them, and were engaged in high 
 dispute among themselves as to who of them had the 
 entre or right to go first. One lady said the right was 
 hers, for her husband was a great General ; but she soon 
 found that others maintained, on one ground or another, 
 that their claims were greater. Meanwhile the officers 
 could not get the doors open, and in consternation one 
 of them hastened to the First Consul and asked him how 
 they should settle the question of precedence. u O" said 
 Bonaparte, "nothing is easier; tell them that the eldest is 
 to go first!" The officer reported to the ladies the First 
 Consul's decision, and instantly they all fell back ! This 
 gave the officers an opportunity to get the doors open, 
 when to their astonishment none of the ladies were will- 
 ing to go first. After standing in that ridiculous position 
 
HUMAN NATURE. 473 
 
 xor a moment, they began to laugh heartily at their own 
 folly, and all marched into the dining-hall without further 
 delay. 
 
 Human nature shows many strange inconsistencies. 
 How often do we find the strong and great possessed of 
 petty foibles that would seem ill in even the lowest and 
 weakest; and how often do we find in the weak tem- 
 porary gleams of greatness. A crooked tree will have a 
 crooked shadow. Beware of a silent dog, and still water. 
 Too much cheek shows deficiency of brain ; for Nature 
 does not give lavishly of both. A nod from a lord is a 
 breakfast for a fool. When a fish is wounded, other 
 fishes fall upon and devour him. There's some human 
 nature in fishes. 
 
 Human nature is so constituted that all see and judge 
 better in the affairs of others than their own. Men can 
 better philosophize on the human heart, but women can 
 read it better. Do not judge of a person from first im- 
 pressions ; it is not liberal ; often your warmest friends 
 prove to be those you were prejudiced against. If you 
 want to " prove n the best friend you have, ask him to 
 lend you some money. If it is important for you to 
 know whether a man will cheat you if he can, sound him 
 as to his willingness to help you cheat somebody else. 
 Trust him little who praises all ; him less who censures all ; 
 and him least who is indifferent about all. Shakspeare 
 makes Caesar say : 
 
 " Let me have men about me that are fat ; 
 Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights : 
 Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look ; 
 He thinks too much : Such men are dangerous." 
 
 When a man attains power he has all the virtues of an 
 epitaph; let him fall into misfortune, he has more vices 
 than the prodigal son. To know a man, observe how he 
 wins his object rather than how he loses it; for when 
 we fail, our pride supports us, when we succeed, it 
 betrays us. Every man has, so to speak, several strings 
 by which he may be pulled. An English writer says you 
 can tell when you are surrounded by a dozen Americans, 
 
474 THE POWER OF SULKINESS. 
 
 by the following unerring test; three will always be 
 found smoking cigars, and nine reading newspapers. 
 
 u What's the Time?" — Did you ever after asking this 
 question, notice the different style in which it would be 
 answered, according as the person interrogated had a 
 gold watch or a silver watch? It is a rare chance to 
 learn a lesson in human nature. In the one case, your 
 friend turns around till his back is nearly squared towards 
 you, and drawing out his "pinchbeck" barely to the edge 
 of the fob, steals a quick, furtive glance at the dial, then 
 hurries back the article like lightning into its receptacle ; 
 in the other he draws out his splendid, full-jewelled re- 
 peater slowly and deliberately, with great pomposity and 
 flourish, and extending it at arm's length between his 
 two hands, gives you the desired information, and one of 
 his blandest smiles in addition. 
 
 A man's nature runs either to herbs or weeds; there- 
 fore let him seasonably water the one and destroy the 
 other. 
 
 THE POWER OF SULKINESS. 
 
 Great is the power of sulkiness. Fortunately for the 
 world, it rarely exists in its highest and most concen- 
 trated form, for if united to real intellectual or moral 
 force, it would be a despotism so thorough as to be inju- 
 rious to the welfare of humanity. But in a less and more 
 ignoble form it is not uncommon, and the dead weight 
 and the steady, choking pressure which mankind endure 
 in consequence, go to make up an almost intolerable 
 grievance. There are people who have the gift of being 
 sulky for an indefinite length of time, and assert that 
 they act thus on principle ; but it is almost invariably 
 found that the principle harmonizes with the nature, for 
 to tempers that are short and sweet, hot, inconsistent, or 
 quickly placable, — and any of these are liable to be sud- 
 denly vexed for an hour or two, — it is always a difficulty 
 to sulk. It is a bit of acting, and not reality, even when 
 
THE POWER OF SULKLS'ESS, 475 
 
 carried out, and the assumption of it is felt to be a bur- 
 den too heavy to be borne. 
 
 The capacity for steady, solid, concentrated sulkiness 
 is a mighty power to him who possesses it ; it implies 
 many curious and varied accomplishments and gifts, 
 among others that of the complete mastery of the five 
 senses. It is for a man to be blind whenever it is desired 
 that he should open his eyes, dumb whenever words 
 would be acceptable, deaf to all allurements or submis- 
 sion, insensible to all efforts at conciliation. It can create 
 gloom, and, having created it, it can perpetuate and 
 deepen it, until it becomes a clinging atmosphere as un- 
 wholesome as a malaria. It comprehends an absolute 
 control over the facial muscles, so that no softness or sign 
 of yielding, not a ripple of a smile, or an expression of 
 pleasure, may replace even for a moment the sullen 
 apathy or illumine the habitual scowl of the confirmed 
 sulker. In a word, it is the faculty of simulation to such 
 a degree that a person shall appear to be blind, deaf, 
 dumb, stupid, paralyzed, ill. or dead, whenever and for 
 as long as he chooses. Mr. Helps has truly said. "Un- 
 reason always governs. Nothing prevents your having 
 your own way so much as being at all amenable to rea- 
 son." And sulkiness neither gives reasons nor listens to 
 them. The sulky being sometimes wears a depressed, 
 spiritless, and utterly dejected appearance, as though 
 crushed and heart-broken by long-continued oppression; 
 sometimes a heavy, displeased, dragging step, and a black 
 and lowering brow are the chief signs which indicate 
 the disturbance within, and the form of the vengeance 
 which is to be taken in respect of it. The latter is the 
 musculine type; the former is, properly speaking, femin- 
 ine. Mr. X. P. Willis, in one of his earlier volumes, has 
 a clever little tale, describing the power of an u injured 
 look." By virtue of it a young American lady contrived 
 to persuade a whole house full of boarders to regard her 
 as a martyr and to speak the worst and think the worst 
 they could of her husband ; and all this, without uttering 
 one word herself, was produced solely by the "injured 
 look." And if there is an "injured look" there is also 
 
476 THE POWER OF SULKINESS. 
 
 such a thing as a "dumb devil;" if the power of one is 
 great, the provocation induced by the latter is unutter- 
 able. It is a curious, and to some it will appear an unac- 
 countable circumstance, that in sulkiness a woman is 
 more often possessed with a dumb devil than a man. 
 
 Sulkiness is visible even in the nursery, where it exists, 
 so to speak, in the form of a bud ; but it is merely an 
 outbreak of bad temper, for at that age a child has not 
 learned the method of using it as an instrument with 
 which to punish his playmates. And the wisest way is to 
 leave it entirely unnoticed, "efface" the offender, as the 
 French say, until there is an obvious return to a more 
 amiable disposition. But boys and girls soon learn to 
 estimate the power of sulkiness either by practice or en- 
 durance, and a large school is the best check on a despot- 
 ism of this kind. Sulkiness is not a tyranny which can 
 be safely exercised in society at large, and it is commonly 
 reserved for private or home exhibition. The smaller the 
 circle the more concentrated its force; in a family, in a 
 house, in one room, the power of sulkiness oppresses, 
 searches, and pervades every corner of it. In love- 
 making sulkiness is a deplorable blunder. Smile or strike, 
 or smile and strike, too, if that seems more advisable; 
 but no good ever follows a sullen enmity, which chills, 
 disconcerts, and often actually destroys love. Even that 
 simulated sulkiness, that toothless vengeance, which con- 
 sists in pouting coldness, is an experiment full of danger, 
 and in the worst possible taste. But if between lovers 
 it is a blunder, in married life it is simply the greatest 
 madness of which a human being can be guilty. There 
 they are men and women yoked together like goats, and 
 as the countryman justly observed, " that's been a trouble 
 to more than goats," and if either of them is endowed 
 with the faculty of persistent sulkiness, one shudders to 
 think of the life the other one may be made to lead. It 
 might be reasonably urged as a cause for judicious separ- 
 ation, possibly even for divorce, since the practice of 
 quietly pressing the spirit and life out of a human being, 
 no matter how many years the operation spreads over, is 
 not one that ought to be permitted in a Christian country ; 
 
THE POWER OF SULKINESS. 477 
 
 " vsevictis! n the weak go to the wall, and too often the 
 weak are the pleasantest and most lovable of earth's 
 creatures. 
 
 Sometimes a person is seen to exhibit something which 
 resembles and yet is not sulks. It is a silent moodiness 
 of manner arising from a sense of failure, mortification, 
 or secret discouragement and vexation which he cannot 
 get over all at once. It is often seen in youth, but in 
 reality the man is struggling with his infirmity, and a 
 kind word, or a friendly overture will always float him 
 over the difficulty. But genuine sulkiness is essentially 
 premeditated and of a forethought ; it is also vindictive, 
 sometimes even malignant, in its nature, and if much in- 
 dulged in causes the manners to become habitually 
 morose, and the face and person acquire a heavy, sod- 
 den appearance as of a substance too long steeped in 
 unwholesome juices. Dragging the feet along the floor, 
 and slamming the doors of the house for weeks and 
 months together are vulgar and ignoble, but neither un- 
 common nor inexpressive modes of sulking. We all 
 know of other ways more refined, but not less disagree 
 able, and remember them too well. The fashion in which 
 the very few words which custom and convenience render 
 absolutely necessary are dropped from the lips as if they 
 were so many leaden bullets; the steadfast surprised 
 stare, that you or any one else should venture to ask such 
 questions as shall require reply of any kind, the pertina- 
 cious coldness, the carefully averted glance, the steady 
 gloom, the hand withheld, the smile unreturned, and the 
 hardly muttered acknowledgment of the morning or 
 evening salutation, — who that has witnessed or endured 
 these amenities can forget the effect of them? In fact, 
 the severity of the pressure which a really able, discrimin- 
 ating, and obstinate sulker can bring to bear on others 
 for an indefinite space of time amounts to a tyranny, 
 dumb, indeed, but sufficiently unholy of its kind ; neither 
 soft coaxing nor urgent cursing affect it, and though to 
 yield is humiliating, it is well-nigh hopeless to resist it. 
 
HINTS ON TALKING. 
 
 He is a better man who wisely speaks, than he who 
 talks at random. It is a great master-piece to speak well, 
 without affecting knowledge. A gentleman should talk 
 like a gentleman, which is like a wise man. 
 
 Talking is an art, susceptible of improvement and elab- 
 oration, like any other art, and capable of being seriously 
 impaired by neglect, like any vocation which, after being 
 learned, may be forgotten. It is a mistake to imagine 
 that all good talkers are born with the endowment ; some, 
 indeed, possess it as a native talent, but many others ac- 
 quire it by long, careful, and painful effort. As a general 
 thing, persons with wide mouths and thin tongues are 
 able to express their ideas with ease, and to converse and 
 speak with envied fluency, while those with narrow 
 mouths and thick tongues stammer through a conversa- 
 tion with labor to themselves, and little satisfaction to 
 those who listen to them. But even this latter class may 
 by attention and effort overcome the infirmities of their 
 organs of speech, and learn to express themselves easily 
 and gracefully. The faculty of fluent and graceful ex- 
 pression is a most charming and enviable one, and where 
 it does not exist as a natural gift, is worth the years oi 
 attention and labor that the acquisition costs. It requires, 
 in the first place, deliberation — and this is why so few cul- 
 tivate it in the midst of the hurry and haste of business 
 pursuits. The words should be selected with care and 
 with taste, and pronounced with distinctness and pre- 
 cision of utterance. At first this will produce an appear- 
 ance of affectation and stiffness ; but after a little practice 
 it will become an easy and facile habit; the very effort 
 to select choice and apt words will cause them to flow 
 spontaneously to the tongue, and the clear, distinct pro- 
 nunciation of them will become an easy task, for the or- 
 gans of speech will adjust themselves to the work, and 
 perform it without constraint. Every one who has tried 
 to announce the best that is in him — the deepest thoughts, 
 
 478 
 
HINTS ON TALKING. 479 
 
 the highest aspirations, the warmest affections — has been 
 conscious that his words fell short at least of his meaning, 
 if not, indeed, greatly misrepresenting it. This is not 
 owing to the poverty of the language, as some may 
 think. Words and ideas grow side by side, and there 
 are always means of adequate expression at hand, if we 
 can find and arrange them. But to do this requires a 
 previous training, that the schools alone can not give, 
 and that only personal attention and constant habit can 
 produce. The thoughts and ideas that rise in our mind 
 must not be permitted to tumble together like an unorgan- 
 ized mob; they must be disciplined, systematized, and 
 placed under control, so that we can express each at its 
 proper time, and leave unexpressed those which we would 
 conceal. Our ideas being thus disciplined, will reflect their 
 own good order upon our words, and we shall find that 
 to think and speak accurately are parts of the same task. 
 Strange and high sounding words should be avoided, for 
 good speech does not consist in belching the dictionary 
 upon your hearers 7 heads, and stunning them with an 
 awful sense of your profound wisdom. In conversation 
 simple plain words, clearly and pointedly spoken, are the 
 most effective ; for knowledge really consists in ideas and 
 thoughts, instead of words, and thoughts and ideas may 
 be expressed in simple language as well as in intricate 
 terms. 
 
 Words are the pledges and pictures of our thoughts, 
 and therefore ought not to be obscure and obsolete. 
 Truth (as Euripides says,) loves plain language. We ad- 
 vise all young people to acquire in early life the habit of 
 using good language, both in speaking and writing, and 
 to abandon as early as possible any use of slang words 
 and phrases. The longer they live the more difficult the 
 acquisition of such language will be; and if the golden 
 age of youth, the proper season for the acquisition of 
 language be past in its abuse, the unfortunate victim of 
 neglected education is very probably doomed to talk 
 slang for life. Money is not necessary to procure this 
 education. Every man has it in his power. He has 
 merely to use the language which he reads instead of the 
 
480 HINTS ON TALKING. 
 
 slang which he hears; to form his taste from the best 
 speakers, and poets of the country ; to treasure up choice 
 phrases in his memory, and habituate himself to their use 
 — avoiding at the same time that pedantic precision and 
 bombast, which show rather the weakness of a vain am- 
 bition than the polish of an educated mind. To the 
 young I would say, never use unbecoming words or in- 
 delicate language. It shows a perverted mind, and does 
 not speak well of the company you keep. Indelicate 
 words offend the ear of modesty, and make your pres- 
 ence an offense to all good people. A vain and vulgar 
 young man is loathed and abhorred by all, although for 
 the sake of his friends, he may be sometimes tolerated 
 by decent and respectable society. Avoid then all ex- 
 pressions, all faint allusions to what is unbecoming and 
 improper ; unless you do this, you never will be respected. 
 Never make an expression that you would not be willing 
 all your friends should hear. 
 
 " Indecent words allow of no defence, 
 For want of decency is a want of sense." 
 
 Good talkers are about as rare as the black swan of the 
 Roman proverb. Great talkers are abundant. But a 
 good talker is a different thing. In the first place gram- 
 mar must be unexceptionable — though too much nicety 
 of phrase is worse than occasional carelessness. Secondly, 
 he talks on proper subjects, at suitable times and places. 
 Thirdly, he talks in a low tone, and only raises his voice 
 with the spirit of his topic. Wit is not important to a 
 good talker, though a spice of humor is, and good sense 
 is indispensable. Adaptation to persons and occasions is 
 a great point, and the want of it a glaring defect in many 
 otherwise good talkers. They discuss very eloquently 
 of books to ignoramuses, of balls to devotees, of philos- 
 ophy to women, and of science to sailors. They talk pol- 
 itics at the opera, describe a funeral at a pic-nic, and 
 crack jokes on hemp before people who have lost rela- 
 tions by hanging. To editors they offer improvements 
 in the art of conducting a newspaper — to ministers (un- 
 suspectingly) diatribes on the immorality of the clergy, 
 
HINTS ON TALKING. 481 
 
 and to lawyers (but that is not always amiss) excellent 
 homilies on the knavery of the bar. To think well needs 
 more than a ready wit and a nimble tongue. 
 
 Talking in the rough comes by nature ; talking well is 
 an art. It requires a certain self-confidence, much frank- 
 ness, patience and quickness of sympathy; and the more 
 humor it can get the better. Practice enters so largely 
 into this process of cultivation, that it is said but few 
 young girls can talk well except to their lovers. 
 
 When you are in company talk often, but never long. 
 In that case, if you do not please, you are sure not to 
 tire your hearers. There are many persons, who, though 
 they have nothing to talk of, never know when to leave 
 off talking. There are some who labor under so great 
 and insatiable a desire for talking, that they will even in- 
 terrupt others when about to speak. We should in 
 society never talk of our own or others' domestic affairs. 
 Your's are of no interest to them, and their's should not 
 be to you. Besides, the subject is of so delicate a nature, 
 that with the best intentions it is a chance if we do not 
 make some mortifying mistake, or wound the feelings of 
 some one of the company. 
 
 The best rules to form a young man are, to talk little, 
 to hear much, to reflect alone upon what has passed in 
 company, to distrust one's own opinions and value others 
 that deserve it. 
 
 One should be silent, or give utterance to such thoughts 
 as are better than silence. Throw a stone at hazard 
 rather than an idle and useless word; and never say little 
 in many words, but in few words say much. Better say 
 nothing, than not to the purpose; and to speak perti- 
 nently, consider both what is fit and when it is fit to 
 speak. Some people write and others talk themselves 
 out of reputation. Talking is like playing on the harp ; 
 there is as much in laying the hand on the strings to stop 
 their vibrations as in twanging them to bring out the 
 music. 
 
 " There are," says Roger L'Estrange, u braying men in 
 the world as well as braying asses ; for what's loud and sense- 
 less talking and swearing other than braying? " The less 
 
 31 
 
482 HINTS ON TALKING. 
 
 a man knows the wider he wears his mouth open, it is 
 as impossible for a fool to keep his mouth shut, as it is 
 for a sick oyster to keep his shell closed. It is with nar- 
 row-souled people as with narrow-necked bottles; the 
 less they have in them the more noise they make in 
 pouring out. Men are like wagons; they rattle most 
 when there's nothing in them. Talkers are no good doers. 
 Many talk like philosophers and live like fools. Words 
 are but poor fig-leaves to cover the nakedness of deeds. 
 
 It is presumable that those who talk the most tell the 
 most untruths. But perhaps we are ungallant in saying it. 
 
 Evil and idle words may seem, as they are uttered, 
 light and trivial things ; yet if light, they are like the 
 filaments of the thistle-down, each feathery tuft, floating 
 on the slightest breeze, bears with it the germ of a nox- 
 ious weed. A desire to say things which no one ever 
 said, makes some people say things which nobody ought 
 to say. Over-earnest asseveration give men a suspicion 
 that the speaker is conscious of his falsities. It is not a 
 good plan, after you have driven a nail in a sure place, 
 instead of just clinching and leaving it, to keep hammer- 
 ing away till you break the head off or split the board. 
 Superlative commendations, besides bringing in question 
 ihe sincerity of the speaker, often give offence to the 
 hearer, and do no credit to the person commended. It 
 is frequent with many, upon every trivial matter, to pawn 
 their reputation : which is a most trivial thing ; for what 
 \s so often lent, and passeth so many hands upon every 
 occasion, cannot but lose much of its value. Care for 
 what you say, or what you say will make you care. There 
 is only the difference of a single letter between " words" 
 and u swords." 
 
 He whose honest freedom makes it his virtue to speak 
 what he thinks, makes it his necessity to think what is 
 good. People who like so much to talk their mind, 
 should sometimes try to mind their talk. Nothing is 
 more silly than the pleasure some people take in "speak- 
 ing their minds." A man of this make will say a rude 
 thing for the mere pleasure of saying it, when an oppo- 
 site behavior, full as innocent, might have preserved his 
 
HINTS ON TALKING. 483 
 
 friend or made his fortune. To speak ill of a man in his 
 absence, shows a base mind ; and to do so to his face, is 
 adding an affront to the scandal. A man has no more 
 right to say an uncivil thing than to act one; no more 
 right to say a rude thing to another, than to knock an- 
 other down. Never touch the sore place in any one's 
 character, for be assured, whoever you are, you have 
 a sore place in you. It is ungenerous to give a man 
 occasion to blush at his own ignorance in any one thing, 
 who perhaps may excel us in many. " Those who admonish 
 their friends," says Plutarch, "should observe this rule, not 
 to leave them with sharp expressions." Ill language de- 
 stroys the force of reprehension, which should be always 
 given with prudence and circumspection. Instructions 
 are entertained with better effect, when they are not too 
 personally addressed. We may with civility glance at, 
 but cannot, without rudeness, stare upon the faults and 
 imperfections of any man. 
 
 Never does a man portray his own character more viv- 
 idly than in his manner of portraying another's. There 
 is something unsound about the man whom you have 
 never heard say a good word about any mortal, but who 
 says bad words about a good many mortals. Never 
 speak bad of others, even with a cause ; remember we all 
 have our faults, and if we expect charity from the world, 
 we must be charitable ourselves. Think that a word once 
 spoken can never be recalled; therefore it is often pru- 
 dent to think twice before we speak. Let No be ever 
 the firm answer of Manhood and Womanhood to the over- 
 tures oi Fraud and Wrong ; but let Yes always drop ten- 
 derly from the lips of the prosperous and the happy, 
 when the poor, the miserable, and the oppressed petition 
 for help and succor. "In table talk," says Montaigne, "I 
 prefer the pleasant and witty before the learned and the 
 grave." 
 
 Bacon tells us that, to use too many circumstances ere 
 one comes to the matter is wearisome ; to use none is 
 blunt. It is neither grateful or discreet to dwell too 
 long upon a subject, the brain being like a field; though 
 ever so rich, if you over harrow it, you may be sure to 
 
484 HINTS OX TALKING. 
 
 turn up barren ground at last. A good tale badly told, 
 is a bad one. Avoid telling idle tales, which is like firing 
 arrows in the dark ; you know not into whose heart they 
 may fall. He that is peremptory in his own story, may 
 meet with another that is peremptory in the contradic- 
 tion of it; and then the two sir positives must have a 
 skirmish. Too much asseveration gives a ground of 
 suspicion. Truth and honesty have no need of loud 
 protestations. The strongest words are generally the 
 oftenest broken. You need not tell all the truth, unless 
 to those who have a right to know it all. But let all you 
 tell be the truth. If you find a person telling an abso- 
 lute falsehood, let it pass over in silence — it is not worth 
 your while to make any one your enemy, by proving 
 him a liar. 
 
 There is no man, says a learned author, but that de 
 lights to be questioned in his profession; who being 
 moved by others, may see to publish his knowledge with- 
 out ostentation. Young folks tell what they do: >ld 
 ones what they have done ; and fools what they will do. 
 Some people are always boasting of their services, but 
 the spoke of the wheel that creaks, does not bear the 
 greatest burden. To talk intentionally above the com- 
 prehension of those we address, is pedantry. We oftener 
 say things because we say them well, than because they 
 are sound and reasonable. To talk well is a gift, just as 
 much as a taste for music is. But tine talkers are seldom 
 good thinkers. They like to float on the surface — not to 
 dive into the depths of the sea of existence. The great 
 game is not to talk with those who know less than our- 
 selves, but rather tilt with those who are wiser than 
 ourselves. We shall then be overthrown and learn true 
 wisdom thereby. 
 
 A good word for another is easily said, and costs us 
 nothing. If there is any person to whom you feel dis- 
 like, that is the person* of whom you ought never to 
 speak. Never tell a friend what you would conceal from 
 an enemy; for the friend may become your bitterest foe. 
 
 The more any one speaks of himself, the less he likes 
 to hear another talked of. How many people would re- 
 
HINTS ON TALKING. 485 
 
 main dumb were it forbidden them to speak good of 
 
 themselves and ill of others. First, talk of yourself with- 
 out being vain ; second, talk of others without slander. 
 Be deaf to the quarrelsome, blind to the scorner, and 
 dumb to those who are mischievously inquisitive. Shut 
 your ears when evil things are said. Those who boast of 
 plain speaking generally like it only in themselves. 
 Would you hear a sweet and pleasing echo, speak sweetly 
 and pleasantly yourself. It is with narrow-souled people 
 as with narrow-necked bottles; the less they have in 
 them the more noise they make in pouring it out. The 
 Talker must be, of necessity, the smallest of human souls. 
 His soul must dwindle, dwindle, dwindle, for he utters 
 great feelings in words, instead of acts, and so satiates 
 his need of utterance, the need of all. Talkativeness is 
 usually called a feminine vice, but it is possible to go into 
 masculine company, where it will be as hard to wedge 
 in a word as at a female gossiping. What is said from 
 the feeling of the moment, should excite but the feeling 
 of the moment. Say what is right, and let others say 
 what they please. "Hew to the line, let the chips fall 
 where they will." When a man has no design but to 
 speak plain truth, he may say a great deal in a very nar- 
 row compass. An honest tale speeds best being plainly 
 told. 
 
 What an evil disposition is that which leads people to 
 say "hateful" things for the mere pleasure of saying 
 them! You are never safe with such a person. When 
 you have done your best to please, and are feeling very 
 kindly and pleasantly, out will pop some underhand stab 
 which you alone can comprehend — a sneer which is 
 masked, but which is too well aimed to be misunderstood. 
 It may be at your person, your mental feeling, your fool- 
 ish habits of thought, or some little secret opinions con- 
 fided in a moment of genuine confidence. It matters 
 not how sacred it may be to ycu, he will have his fling at 
 it : and since the wish is to m ake you suffer, he is all the hap - 
 pier the nearer he touches your heart. Just half a dozen 
 words, only for the pleasure of seeing a cheek flush, and 
 fan eye lose its brightness, only spoken because he is 
 
486 HINTS ON TALKING. 
 
 afraid you are too happy or too conceited. Yet they are 
 worse than so many blows. How many sleepless nights 
 have such mean attacks caused tender-hearted men ! How 
 after them one awakes with aching eyes and head, to re- 
 member that speech before everything — that bright, 
 sharp, well-aimed needle of a speech that probed the very 
 center of your soul ! 
 
 How fond we are of making other people uncomfort- 
 able! It's very natural, but very wrong, after all. 
 People are wretched enough on their own account, as a 
 general thing, and we might bottle up our woes if we 
 had the proper feeling. But we don't. We tell them, 
 "How sick we feel!" "What a cold we have!" "How 
 our heads ache!" "How we didn't sleep a wink last 
 night!" "How cold we are!" "How hot we are!" etc. 
 We never cry out, "I am so well!" "I haven't a sign 
 of a cold!" "I'm so delightfully comfortable!" at least 
 very seldom, in comparison with the reverse of the 
 question ; and the only comfort is that people very 
 rarely care enough about their neighbors to suffer from 
 sympathy. They are only dreadfully bored by it, that 
 is all ; just as they are when we tell them that our 
 Aunt Tompkins has been "miserable all summer," and 
 that our cousin Jones has lost his youngest by scarlet- 
 fever, and that there's a dreadful war in France, and a 
 terrible flood in Virginia, and ever so many people starved 
 to death in Asia. Sit quiet and listen, if you can, the 
 very next time you find a select circle of friends collected 
 together for convivial purposes, and you will discover 
 that the conversation turns principally on these subjects : 
 their own woes and illnesses ; those of their relatives and 
 of their friends ; the fault of the weather ; the failings ol 
 government; the calamities of a nation, and other 
 uncomfortable topics too numerous to mention, over 
 which, nevertheless, they are decidedly cheerful, consid- 
 ering, and which do not diminish the consumption of re- 
 freshments to any perceptible degree. 
 
 When will American women learn to believe — and 
 what is more, practice upon that belief — that a "low, 
 soft voice is an excellent thing in woman ?" Wherever * 
 
CONVERSATION. 487 
 
 we go — in the horse- cars, on the steamboats, in the lec- 
 ture rooms and concert halls, on the street, in every pub- 
 lic place, in short, we are perpetually and involuntarily 
 receiving confidences from unknown females, in regard 
 to family matters, love affairs, matrimonial spats and 
 other subjects, important or the reverse. We cannot 
 help it. We don't want to know that A abuses his wife, 
 and B's better half flirts outrageously ; we don't care why 
 a certain match said to be on the tapis was broken off; 
 we are not deeply interested in the particulars of C's last 
 illness, inasmuch as to us he is a total stranger, nor do 
 we mind about knowing how much his coffin cost or 
 whether it was real rosewood or a base imitation ; that 
 D's son is rather fast and E's daughter bids fair to turn 
 out a "girl of the period." All these, and plenty mere 
 facts of the kind, are of no special moment to us, and we 
 are not interested in hearing them discussed, yet we can- 
 not see how we are to avoid becoming depositories of all 
 sorts of secrets, pleasant or otherwise. Just as long as we 
 are forced to travel to and fro on the earth, the Ameri- 
 can women will talk of private matters at the top of 
 their voices in public. 
 
 From hearing comes wisdom; from speaking, repent- 
 ance. 
 
 CONVERSATION. 
 
 There is one defect in American education, or rather 
 in American character, and that is, our young people do 
 not learn to converse well. They think — they act — when 
 roused they are eloquent — but they seldom converse well. 
 The boy is taught to declaim — to store his mind with 
 those ideas that will instruct and even move the multitude 
 — but very rarely to converse with ease and elegance. 
 The girl is disciplined to sing, and play, and dance, and sit 
 gracefully. She is even prepared for those womanly 
 duties she must perform in after life — duties of the nur- 
 sery and the household. Her moral powers are culti- 
 vated likewise in this country, so that she becomes a use- 
 
488 CONVERSATION. 
 
 ful, benevolent, amiable being. But she is not taught to 
 converse. 
 
 "She can talk enough," says the crusty old bachelor, 
 "pray do not teach her, to any greater degree, the use 
 of her tongue." Talking is not conversing. There is no 
 deficiency in the former with our girls. To talk, and to 
 talk well, are very different. The latter requires ease, 
 tact, self-confidence, good sense, a well conducted educa- 
 tion, a desire to please, and an amiable temper. 
 
 In neither sex should conversation be high flown, de- 
 clamatory, or above the condition of the hearers. The 
 voice should be modulated to the subject, and never 
 raised to an oratorical pitch. The style should be easy, 
 natural, playful if the occasion require it, with no strained 
 and far-fetched attempts at wit or glitter. 
 
 There are occasions when the very essence of enter- 
 taining and successful conversation consists in being a 
 good listener, and in drawing out others upon those topics 
 about which you know they can furnish information. We 
 have said before that the great secret of pleasing consists 
 in making others pleased with themselves. It is so in 
 conversation. To be a good listener, is one of the se- 
 crets of a conversational power. It is said that Daniel 
 Webster remarked that he never was in any sensible man's 
 company a quarter of an hour, but he learnt something. 
 He had the tact of drawing them out on subjects with 
 which they were familiar, and in this way, gained infor- 
 mation himself, and made others pleased with him. 
 
 When girls think too much of their beauty, they are 
 very apt to forget that the powers of conversation are 
 needed to please. Beauty may strike a severe blow on 
 the heart, but it requires conversational powers to follow 
 up the blow and render it effective. A plain woman 
 who converses well will soon cause the want of beauty 
 to be forgotten by her powers of entertainment. Madam 
 De Stael Holstein was an exceedingly plain woman, but 
 such were her conversational talents, that Byron declared 
 she could talk down her face in a quarter of an hour, and 
 be felt to be positively beautiful. 
 
 But the question occurs, how can this power be ac- 
 
CONVERSATION. 489 
 
 quired? It needs some native confidence and much good 
 judgment to lay the foundation for it. Instructors can 
 create it, by always requiring their pupils to give the 
 ideas of their lessons in their own language, and not in 
 the words of the text book. Parents, too, can early 
 begin to encourage their children to converse on sensible 
 topics, by calling out their opinions. All should learn 
 to converse. 
 
 Were children accustomed from infancy to hear noth- 
 ing but correct conversation, there would be but little 
 need of their learning arbitrary rules of grammar — they 
 would naturally speak and write correctly. Hence it is, 
 that children of educated parents are generally so much 
 more easy and graceful in their conversation, than the chil- 
 dren of the uneducated. Our language, like our manners, 
 is caught from those with whom we associate; and if we 
 would have the young improve in this important part of 
 education, we must be careful that they hear no vulgar- 
 isms from us. Parents and teachers cannot be too par 
 ticular in their use of language in the presence of imita- 
 tive children. 
 
 The art of imparting our ideas easily and elegantly to 
 others may be improved by ourselves, if there are op- 
 portunities of mingling in good society, with a little 
 study. The mind must first be cultivated ; but it should 
 not abash those who are conscious of moderate talents, or 
 imperfect cultivation, from taking a due part in conver- 
 sation, on account of their inferiority. It is a very dif- 
 ferent thing to shine and to please ; to shine in society is 
 more frequently attempted than surpassed; to please is 
 in the power of all. The effort to shine, when fruitless, 
 brings a certain disgrace, and engenders mortification ; all 
 good people are inclined to take the will for the deed 
 when they see a desire to please. A gentle, deferential, 
 kind manner, will disarm even the most discerning from 
 criticising too severely the deficiencies of the inexpe- 
 rienced; confidence, disrespect of others, volubility, 
 eagerness to dispute, must irritate the self-love of others, 
 and produce an averseness to acknowledge talent or in- 
 formation when they may even happen to exist. 
 
490 CONVERSATION. 
 
 Yoice and manner have much to do with the qualifica- 
 tions of a pleasant speaker. It was this that lent the 
 irresistible charm, which all his listeners acknowledged, 
 to the conversation of Chateaubriand. It is really not 
 so much what is said, as how it is said, that makes the 
 difference between the talkers of society. In public dis- 
 cussions, in parliament or elsewhere, though the grace of 
 voice and manner are valuable adjuncts to the speaker, 
 especially in the opening of his career, he soon commands 
 the attention of the audience, in spite of personal defects 
 in these particulars, when it is once found that he can 
 speak to the purpose. But all the good sense and ability 
 in the world will not make up, in society, for a hesitating 
 and embarrassed manner, or even for a very disagreeable 
 voice. We may be conscious that the man has plenty to 
 say, but we receive no pleasure from his talk. 
 
 The art of conversation is a rare gift, and to be culti- 
 vated as one would cultivate any desirable art. With 
 some it is a spontaneous faculty ; with all, it can be ac- 
 quired in a greater or less degree of perfection An old 
 book upon etiquette, among an immense deal of twaddle, 
 contains some grains of sound sense, which would profit 
 all to heed. On the subject of conversation, we are told 
 to "interrogate without display, not to interrupt a profit- 
 able speaker, nor desire ambitiously to put in a word of 
 one's own, to be measured in speaking and hearing, not 
 to be ashamed of receiving, or to be grudging of infor- 
 mation, nor to pass another's knowledge for one's own." 
 And again, that the "middle tone of voice, neither so 
 low as to be inaudible, nor ill-bred from its high pitch," 
 is the most desirable. And, also, that "one should reflect 
 first what he is going to say, and then give it utterance ; 
 be courteous when addressed, amiable in social inter- 
 course, not aiming to be pleasant by face tiousn ess, but 
 cultivating gentleness in kind admonitions. Harshness 
 is ever to be put aside, even in censuring." 
 
 Nothing is better than conversation as a corrective of 
 self-sufficiency. In educated conversation a man soon 
 finds his level. He learns more truly than from books, 
 in converse with living men, to estimate his powers mod- 
 
CONVERSATION. 491 
 
 estly and justly. A book is passive; it does not repel 
 pretensions ; it does not rebuke vanity. Indeed, reading 
 and study become to many but the nature of conceit. 
 If some persons value themselves on the books they own, 
 it is not surprising that others should value them- 
 selves on the books they read. As knowledge grows on 
 the thoughts in books, so pedantry feeds on their words, 
 and is proud, lean and solitary. In conversation, a man 
 is not long in discovering that he alone does not know 
 everything, and that, though he were to die, wisdom 
 would not perish with him. 
 
 A talent for conversation has an extraordinary value 
 for common, every-day uses of life. Let any one who 
 has this gift enter into a social circle anywhere. How 
 every one's face brightens at his entrance. How soon he- 
 sets all the little wheels in motion, encouraging the timid, 
 calling out unostentatiously the resources of the reserved 
 and shy, subsidizing the facile, and making everybody 
 glad and happy. 
 
 To converse well is not to engross the conversation. 
 It is not to do all the talking. It is not necessarily to 
 talk with great brilliancy. A man may talk with such 
 surpassing power and splendor as to awe the rest of the 
 company into silence, or excite their envy, and so pro- 
 duce a chill where his aim should be to produce warmth 
 and sunshine. He should seek the art of making others 
 feel quite at home with him, so that no matter how great 
 may be his attainments or reputation, or how small may 
 be their's, they find it insensibly just as natural and pleas- 
 ant talking to him, as hearing him talk. The talent for 
 conversation, indeed, more, almost, than anything else in 
 life, requires tact and discretion. It requires one to 
 have more varied knowledge, and to have it at instant 
 and absolute disposal, so that he can use just as much, or 
 just as little as the occasion demands. It requires the 
 ability to pass instantly and with ease from the playful 
 to the serious, from books to men, from the mere phrases 
 of courtesy to the expressions of sentiment and passion. 
 
 If, says a writer in the Corn Hill Magazine, our talk is 
 to prosper, the subject of it must be led up to gradually. 
 
492 CONVERSATION 
 
 It must be led up to gradually, and what is more, naturally ; 
 the conversation reaching it by easy stages, and, as one 
 may say, in the course of nature. And this leading up must, 
 you are entreated to remember, be the work of destiny, and 
 by no means brought about by you who wish to profit by it 
 Next in magnitude to the fault of dragging in your sub- 
 ject neck and heels, is the error of leading up to it yourself 
 in a forced and unnatural manner. You must wait for your 
 opportunity. Self-control and patience are as necessary 
 to the attainment of conversational, as any other distinc- 
 tion. You must be patient then, but you must also be 
 vigilant; a combination of qualities rare but indispen- 
 sable to those who would be great in anything. You 
 must be ready when that opporiunity which has been 
 spoken of does come, to seize it and hold it fast. You 
 must hold your remark, your description, your story, or 
 whatever it is, in check, as a skillful gillie does a deer- 
 hound, but you must be ready to let it slip when the 
 right moment comes. If that moment is missed, your 
 chance is gone. Not the proverbial mutton, not Queen 
 Anne herself, are more utterly dead than is a subject 
 which has once been disposed of and dropped. You can- 
 not revive it ; to assert that such resuscitation is possible 
 would be to mislead many unoffending and, perhaps, de- 
 serving persons. If a good thing comes into your head 
 after the opportunity for letting it loose upon society 
 has gone by, the best thing you can do is to gulp it down 
 altogether or keep it by you, in case a use for it should 
 come in the course of time. Conversation is a very seri- 
 ous matter. There are men with whom an hour's talk 
 would weaken one more than a day's fasting. 
 
 Conversation should be studied as an art. Style in 
 conversation is as important, and as capable of cultiva- 
 tion, as style in writing. The manner of saying things 
 is what gives them their value. Avoid provincialisms in 
 your language and pronunciation. 
 
 The art of conversation consists in the exercise of two 
 fine qualities. You must originate, and you must sympa- 
 thize — you must possess at the same time the habit of 
 communicating and listening. The union is rare, but irre- 
 
CONVERSATION. 493 
 
 sistible. Conversation is the daughter of reasoning, the 
 mother of knowledge, the breath of the soul, the com- 
 merce of hearts, the bond of friendship, the nourishment 
 of content, and the occupation of men of wit. Intelli- 
 gent conversation is the great charm of man, the finest 
 solace of intellectual labors, and the simplest yet the 
 most effectual and delightful mode of at once resting and 
 invigorating the mind, whether wearied by study or de- 
 pressed by struggles with fortune. All good conversa- 
 tion, manners and action, says Emerson, come from a 
 spontaneity which forgets usages and makes the moment 
 great. While the gift of conversation proves a clever 
 man, the want of it is no proof of a dull one. If we 
 enter into conversation upon equal terms with the lowest 
 of the people, unrestrained by circumstance, unawed by 
 interest, we shall find in ourselves but little superiority 
 over them. If we know what they do not, they know 
 what we do not. In general, those who do things for 
 others know more about them than those for whom they 
 are done. A groom knows more about horses than his 
 master. 
 
 Would you both please and be instructed, too, 
 Watch well the rage of shining, to subdue ; 
 Hear every man upon his favorite theme ; 
 And ever be more knowing than you seem ; 
 The lowest genius will afford some light, 
 Or give a hint that had escaped your sight. 
 
 It is a sure method of obliging in conversation, to 
 show a pleasure in giving attention. In discourse it is 
 good to hear others first; for silence has the same effect 
 as authority, The art of conversation consists much less 
 in your own abundance than in enabling others to find 
 talk for themselves. Men do not wish to admire you; 
 they want to please. The most honorable part of talk is 
 to give the occasion. Coleridge was very luminous in 
 conversation, and invariably commanded listeners; yet 
 the old lady rated his talent very lowly, when she de- 
 clared she had no patience with a man who would have 
 all the talk to himself. No one, says dean Loker, will 
 ever shine in conversation who thinks of saying fine 
 things. To please, one must say many things indifferent, 
 
494 CONVERSATION. 
 
 and many very bad. This last rule of the Dean's is rarely 
 violated in society. Conversation should be pleasant 
 without scurrility, witty without affectation, learned with- 
 out pedantry, novel without falsehood." There is nothing, 
 says Plato, so delightful as the hearing or speaking of 
 truth. For this reason there is no conversation so agree- 
 able as that of the man of integrity, who hears without 
 .any intention to betray, and speaks without any intention 
 .to deceive. Dr. Johnson said "that to speak truth al- 
 ways, one must of course, be continually watching. " One 
 drop of ink will blacken a whole glassful of pure water. 
 So will one evil communication make the whole heart 
 foul. In the lightness of conversation we should respect 
 modesty and piety. To make them blush or to wound 
 them is a course play, a social crime. 
 
 In conversation, humor is more than wit, easiness more 
 rthan knowledge. Few desire to learn, or to think they 
 need it; all desire to be pleased, or if not, to be easy. 
 In conversation condescend to a compliance rather than 
 continue a dispute. It is the union of parts and acquire- 
 ments, of spirit and modesty, which produces the inde- 
 finable charm of conversation. Steele says that the most 
 necessary talent in a man of conversation, is a good 
 judgment. 
 
 One of the foremost arts of life — conversation — is also 
 one of the least understood, and most poorly cultivated. 
 How seldom we meet a conversable person! How im- 
 mensely does our interest in persons depend upon their 
 conversational skill. We are forever measuring men's 
 capacity, wit, judgment, sense, and knowledge of the 
 world, by the fragments of their talk which we hear. 
 This is the standard to which we bring all our compan- 
 ions, just or unjust, superficial or profound, we do uncon- 
 sciously erect this criterion of the tongue by which to 
 judge the whole man. We advise all young people to 
 acquire, in early life, the habit of using good language, 
 both in speaking and writing, and to abandon as early as 
 possible, any use of slang words and phrases. The 
 longer they live, the more difficult the acquisition of such 
 language will be ; and if the golden age of youth, the 
 
CONVERSATION . 495 
 
 proper season for the acquisition of language, be past in 
 its abuse, the unfortunate victim of neglected education 
 is very probably doomed to talk slang for life. Money is 
 not necessary to procure their education. Every man 
 has it in his power. He has merely to use the language 
 which he reads, instead of the slang which he hears ; to 
 form his taste from the best speakers and poets of the 
 country ; to treasure up choice phrases in his memory, 
 and to habituate himself to their use — avoiding at the 
 same time, that pedantic precision and bombast, which 
 show rather the weakness of a vain and ambitious than 
 the polish of an educated mind. 
 
 Some people never attempt to obtain a clear idea of 
 the exact meaning of the words which they employ in 
 writing and conversation. They utter them at random, 
 and if they happen to convey the idea which they in- 
 tended them to convey, the result is to be attributed 
 rather to chance than to their knowledge and discrimina- 
 tion. This fault is very common among those who love 
 big, sonorous words, — more common, indeed, among 
 them than among the ignorant and uneducated. Those 
 who are in the habit of selecting long words for use in 
 conversation, generally are not worth listening to. The 
 plainest and commonest words in the English language 
 are the best for both conversation and writing. 
 
 William Cullen Bryant gave the following excellent ad- 
 vice to a young man who offered him an article for the 
 Evening Post: u My young friend, I observe that you have 
 used several French expressions in your article. I think 
 if you will study the English language, that you will find 
 it capable of expressing all the ideas that you may have. 
 I have always found it so, and in all that I have written 
 I do not recall an instance when I was tempted to use a 
 foreign word, but that, on searching, I found a better one 
 in my own language. Be simple, unaffected; be honest 
 in your speaking and writing. Never use a long word 
 where a short one will do. Call a spade a spade, not a 
 well known oblong instrument of manual industry; let 
 home be a home, not a residence; a place a place, not a 
 locality, and so of the rest. Where a short word will do. 
 
496 CONVERSATION. 
 
 you always lose by using a long one. You lose in clear- 
 ness, you lose in honest expression of your meaning ; and 
 in the estimation of all men who are competent to judge, 
 you lose in reputation for ability. The only true way to 
 shine even in* this false world, is to be modest and unas- 
 suming. Falsehood may be a very thick crust, but in 
 the course of time truth will find a place to break 
 through. Elegance of language may not be in the power 
 of all of us, but simplicity and straightforwardness are. 
 Write much as you would speak ; speak as you think. If 
 with your inferior, speak no coarser than usual ; if your 
 superior, speak no finer. Be what you say, and within 
 the rules of prudence, say what you are. Avoid all od- 
 dity of expression. No one ever was a gainer by singu- 
 larity of words, or in pronunciation. The truly wise 
 man will so speak that no one will observe how he speaks. 
 A man may show great knowledge of chemistry by car- 
 rying about bladders of strange gases to breathe, but he 
 will enjoy better health, and find more time for business, 
 who lives on common air. When I hear a person use a 
 queer expression, or pronounce a name in reading differ- 
 ently from his neighbor, the habit always goes down, 
 minus sign before, it stands on the side of deficit, not of 
 credit. Talk as sensible men talk ; use the easiest words 
 in their commonest meaning. Let the sense conveyed, 
 not the vehicle in which it is conveyed, be your subject 
 of attention. Avoid in conversation all singularity of 
 accuracy. One of the bores of society is the bore who 
 is always setting you right; who, when you report from 
 the paper that 10,000 men lell in some battle, tells you 
 that it was 9,999; who when you describe your walk as 
 two miles out and back, assures you that it lacked half a 
 furlong of it. Truth does not consist in minute accuracy 
 of detail, but in conveying a right impression ; and there 
 are vague ways of speaking that are truer than strict fact 
 would be. When the Psalmist said "Rivers of waters 
 run down mine eyes, because men keep not thy law," he 
 did not state the fact, but he stated a truth deeper than 
 fact and also truer. 
 
 Delight not yourself with lampoons, satires, and jests; 
 
CONVERSATION. 497 
 
 for whatever pleasure they procure at first, the reflection 
 that follows, is rarely favorable to the author. Good na- 
 ture is more agreeable in conversation than wit, and gives 
 a certain air to the countenance, which is more amiable 
 than beauty. Avoid all boastings and exaggerations, back- 
 biting, abuse, and evil speaking, slang phrases and oaths 
 in conversation ; depreciate no man's qualities, and accept 
 hospitalities of the humblest kind in a hearty and appre- 
 ciative manner; avoid giving offence, and if you do 
 offend, have the manliness to apologize; infuse as much 
 elegance as possible into your thoughts as well as your 
 actions ; and as you avoid vulgarities you will increase 
 the enjoyments of life, and grow in the respect of others. 
 
 Beware of impure words. Filthy conversation is a 
 fruitful means of corruption. It is a channel by which 
 the impurity of one heart may be communicated to an- 
 other. And we know who hath said, "Evil communica- 
 tions corrupt good manners." Words are an index of 
 the state of the heart. Hence says Christ, u By thy words 
 thou shalt be condemned ; for every idle word that men 
 shall speak they shall give account thereof in the day of 
 judgment." There are those whose conversation is filthy 
 and disgusting. Parents should guard their children from 
 such. They should themselves avoid every indelicate ex- 
 pression and check the first appearance of any such thing 
 in their children. Avoid foolish talking and jesting. Let 
 your words always be pure. The frequent use of the 
 name of God or the devil ; allusions to passages of Scrip- 
 ture; mocking at anything serious and devout; oaths, 
 vulgar by-words, cant phrases, effected hard words, when 
 familiar terms will do as well ; scraps of Latin, Greek or 
 French; quotations from plays spoken in a theatrical 
 manner — all these much used in conversation render a 
 person very contemptible to grave and wise men. Let 
 your subject be something of necessity and use ; some- 
 thing that may advance the love and practice of virtue, 
 reform the passions, or instruct the understanding; such 
 as may administer advice to men in difficulties, comfort 
 them under afflictions, assist them in the search of truth, 
 give them a reverend sense of God, and an awful admira- 
 
 32 
 
498 CONVERSATION. 
 
 tion of his divine excellence. We should always accom- 
 modate ourselves to the capacity of those with whom we 
 converse. The discourse of some men is like the stars 
 which give little light because they are so high. This 
 rule should be observed in all conversation, that men 
 should not talk to please themselves, but those that hear 
 them. This would make them consider, whether what 
 they speak be worth hearing; whether there be either 
 wit or sense in what they are about to say; and whether 
 it be adapted to the time when, the place where, and the 
 person to whom it is spoken. Speak to old men of the 
 past, to the middle-aged of the present, and to the young 
 of the future. It is the art of conversation not only to 
 say the right thing in the right place, but far more diffi- 
 cult still, to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting 
 moment. One reason why we see so few agreeable in 
 conversation, is, that almost everybody is more intent 
 upon what he himself has a mind to say, than upon 
 making pertinent replies to what the rest of the company 
 say to him. The object of conversation is to entertain 
 and amuse. To be agreeable, you must learn to be a 
 good listener. A man who monopolizes the conversation 
 is a bore, no matter how great his knowledge. A man 
 of good sense will seem to be less knowing, more oblig- 
 ing ; and choose to be on a level with others, rather than 
 oppress with the superiority of his genius. The thread 
 of conversation is sustained among many persons, by each 
 knowing when to take a stitch in time. If in conversa- 
 tion, you think a person wrong, rather hint a difference 
 of opinion than offer a contradiction. Be not easily ex- 
 ceptions, nor rudely familiar; the one will breed conten- 
 tion, the other contempt. It is to the virtues and errors 
 of our conversation and ordinary deportment, that we 
 owe both our enemies and our friends, our good or bad 
 character abroad, our domestic peace and troubles, and in 
 a high degree the improvement and depravations of our 
 minds. Let us then so order our conversation in the 
 world that we may live when we are dead in the affec- 
 tions of the best, and leave an honorable testimony in 
 the consciences of the worst. 
 
CONVERSATION. 499 
 
 The first ingredient in conversation is truth ; the next is 
 good sense ; the third, good humor ; and the fourth, wit. 
 
 The whole force of conversation, says Oliver Wendell 
 Holmes, depends on how much you can take for granted. 
 Vulgar Chess players have to play their games out ; noth- 
 ing short of the brutality of an actual checkmate satisfies 
 them. But look at the masters of that noble game! 
 White stands well enough so far as you can see; but the 
 red says "mate in six moves." White looks, nods — the 
 game is over. Just so in talking with first-rate men, 
 especially when they are good natured and expansive. Con- 
 versation is a traffic; and if you enter into it without 
 some stock of knowledge to balance the account perpet- 
 ually betwixt you, the trade stops at once. A man's want 
 of conversation generally arises from his supposing that 
 his mind is like Fortunatus' purse, and will always fur- 
 nish him without his putting anything into it. 
 
 Sala says, u In all seriousness and sincerity, I render to 
 the young ladies of America the tribute of being the 
 most accomplished talkers in the world. Their readiness 
 of diction, the facile flow of ideas, their quickness of 
 apprehension, are really and truly astonishing." Among 
 all the " accomplishments " which our young ladies are 
 expected to acquire, the art of conversation is included. 
 No grace of person or manners can compensate the lack 
 of this. In youth, the conversation of our women is too 
 apt to be trifling and insipid, and in middle-age is too 
 often confined to complaints of health and the scandal of 
 the day. Lively conversation upon instructing and elevat- 
 ing topics is but little practised, but whenever it is found 
 it gives a charm to the society of females which nothing 
 else can. It triumphs over deformity and old age, and 
 makes ugliness itself agreeable. Curran, speaking of 
 Madame de Stael, who was by no means handsome, but 
 a splendid conversationalist, said that she had the power 
 of talking herself into a beauty. Ladies should think of 
 this. Beauty lies in other things than fine features or 
 cosmetics. Women, however lovely they may be in per- 
 son, rarely excite true admiration, it they are ignorant of 
 the art of conversing well. No man can be master in 
 
500 CONVERSATION. 
 
 conversation who has not talked with woman. In con- 
 versation lies the greatest charm to a thoughtful mind. 
 It is instructive, and yet so elegant — so winning, and still 
 sensible, that its fascination is like a spell cast over the hu- 
 man being to invigorate the functions of the brain, and 
 rouse into activity every pure emotion of the heart. There 
 is nothing in the world like it, except love ; and as that 
 divine passion would be nothing without it, they may be 
 considered inseparable. Commend us to conversation, 
 for it improves, adorns and sanctifies, and in no place is 
 more delightful than by the fireside of an agreeable- 
 tempered, intelligent, family group. 
 
 A ready man is made by conversation. He that buries 
 himself among his manuscripts "besprent," as Pope ex- 
 presses it, "with learned dust," and wears out his days 
 and nights in perpetual research and solitary meditation, 
 is too apt to lose, in his elocution, what he adds to his 
 wisdom ; and when he comes into the world, to appear 
 overloaded with his own notions, like a man armed with 
 weapons which he cannot wield. He has no facility of 
 inculcating his speculations ; of adapting himself to the 
 various degrees of intellect which the accidents of con- 
 versation will present; but will talk to most unintel- 
 ligibly, and to all unpleasantly. Addison, who is ac- 
 knowledge to have been one of the most elegant writers 
 that ever lived, was awkwardly stupid in conversation. 
 The conversation of Goldsmith was so notoriously flat 
 and pointless as to provoke the remark that he "wrote 
 like an angel, and talked like poor Poll." Corneille, the 
 greatest dramatist of France, was completely lost in so- 
 ciety — so absent and embarrassed that he wrote of himself 
 a witty couplet, importing that he was never intelligible 
 but through the mouth of another. Wit on paper seems 
 to be something widely different from that play of words 
 in conversation, which, while it sparkles, dies ; for Charles 
 II., the wittiest monarch that ever sat on the English 
 throne, was so charmed with the humor of "Hudibras" 
 that he caused himself to be introduced, in the character 
 of a private gentleman, to Butler, its author. The witty 
 king found the author a very dull companion, and was of 
 
CONVERSATION. 501 
 
 the opinion, with many others, that so stupid a fellow could 
 never have written so clever a book. Some one pithily 
 says, "Authors ought to be read and not heard." The 
 biography of men of letters, in a great measure, confirms 
 this opinion. Some of the greatest names in English and 
 French literature, men who have filled books with an elo- 
 quence and truth that defy oblivion, were mere mutes 
 before their fellow men. They had golden ingots, which, 
 in the privacy of home, they could convert into coin 
 bearing an impress that would insure universal currency, 
 but they could not, on the spur of the moment, produce 
 the farthings current in the market-place. Descartes, 
 the famous mathematician and philosopher, Lafontaine, 
 celebrated for his witty fables, and Buffon, the great nat- 
 uralist, were all singularly deficient in the powers of con- 
 versation. Marmontel, the novelist, was so dull in 
 society that his friends said of him, after an interview, 
 " I must go and read his tales to recompense myself for 
 the weariness of hearing him." Tasso's conversation was 
 neither gay nor brilliant. Dante was either taciturn or 
 satirical. Butler was either sullen or biting. Gray sel- 
 dom talked or smiled. Hogarth and Swift were absent- 
 minded in company. Milton was very unsociable and 
 irritable when pressed into conversation. Kirwin, though 
 copious and eloquent in public address, was meagre and 
 dull in colloquial discourses. Yirgil was heavy in con- 
 versation. La Fontaine appeared heavy, coarse and 
 stupid ; he could not speak and describe what he had just 
 seen ; but then he was the model of poetry. Chaucer's 
 silence was more agreeable than his conversation. Dry- 
 den's conversation was slow and dull, his humor satur- 
 nine and reserved. Cornelius in conversation was so 
 insipid that he never failed in wearying ; he did not even 
 speak correctly that language of which he was such a 
 master. Ben Johnson used to sit silent in company and 
 suck his wine. Sou they was stiff, sedate, and wrapped 
 up in asceticism. Addison was good company with his 
 intimate friends, but in mixed company he preserved his 
 dignity by a stiff and reserved silence. Fox in conversa- 
 tion never flagged, his animation and vivacity were in ex- 
 
502 CONVERSATION. 
 
 haustible. Dr. Bently was loquacious, as was also Grotius 
 Goldsmith u wrote like an angel and talked like poor 
 Poll." Burke was entertaining, enthusiastic and interest- 
 ing in conversation. Curran was a convivial deity. Leigh 
 Hunt was a pleasant stream in conversation. Carlyle 
 doubts, objects and constantly demurs. 
 
 Conversation of the ignorant is generally confined to 
 indifferent, low, or perhaps vicious subjects ; and all that 
 is serious or good, is almost banished. Some are so pol- 
 luted in the mouth, as to utter nothing that is decent; 
 supplying the want of wit for the want of modesty, and 
 the want of reputation for the want of shame. As a 
 bird is known by his note, so is a man by his discourse. 
 Our conversation should be such as to afford youth im- 
 provement, women modesty, the aged respect, and all 
 men civility. It is a fair step toward happiness and vir- 
 tue, to delight in the conversation of good and wise men ; 
 and where that cannot be had, the next thing is to keep 
 no company at all. They who have the true taste of 
 conversation, enjoy themselves in a communication of 
 each other's excellencies, and not in a triumph over their 
 imperfections. He who treats men ingeniously, and con- 
 verses kindly with them, gains a good esteem with a 
 very little expense. 
 
 The true art of conversation seems to be this: An 
 agreeable freedom and openness, with a reservedness and 
 as little appearing as possible. Freedom, which is the 
 life of conversation, must be reciprocal, or it cannot be 
 agreeable. Too much familiarity breeds contempt. 
 
 How long the lamp of conversation holds out to burn 
 between two persons only, is curiously set down in the 
 following passage from Count Gonfallioner's account of 
 his imprisonment : u Fifteen years I existed in a dun- 
 geon ten feet square. During six years I had a compan- 
 ion; during nine I was alone. I never could rightly dis- 
 tinguish the face of him who shared my captivity, in the 
 eternal twilight of our cell. The first year we talked 
 incessantly together; we related our past lives, our joys 
 forever gone, over and over again. The next year we 
 communicated to each other our thoughts and ideas on 
 
CONVERSATION. 503 
 
 all subjects. The third year we had nothing to commu- 
 nicate; we were beginning to lose the power of reflec- 
 tion. The fourth, at the interval of a month or so, we 
 would open our lips to ask each other if it were possible 
 that the world went on as gay and bustling as when we 
 formed a portion of mankind. The fifth we were silent. 
 The sixth he was taken away — I never heard where, to 
 execution or liberty. But I was glad when he was gone; 
 even solitude was better than the pale, vacant face. One 
 day, it must have been a year or two after my companion 
 left me — the dungeon door was open, whence proceeding 
 I knew not, the following words were uttered: "By 
 order of his Imperial Majesty, I intimate to you that your 
 wife died a year ago." Then the door was shut, and I 
 heard no more; they had flung this great agony upon 
 me, and left me alone with it. 
 
 The most casual remark lives forever in its effects. 
 There is not a word w T hich has not a moral history. And 
 hence it is that every u idle word" which men utter, as- 
 sumes a character so important, that an inquest will be 
 held on it in the general judgment. Good, kind, true, 
 holy words, dropped in conversation, may be little 
 thought of, but they are like seeds of flower or fruitful 
 tree falling by the wayside, borne by some bird afar, 
 happily thereafter to fringe with beauty some barren 
 mountain side, or to make glad some lonely wilderness. 
 Bishop Latimor, when examined before Bonner, at first 
 answered without much thought or care; but hearing the 
 movement of a pen behind the curtain, he perceived that 
 a writer was taking down his words, and the effect was 
 to make him considerate and wary. He said he then re- 
 alized as never before the force of his Lord's premonition 
 — u By thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy 
 words thou shalt be condemned." How changed would 
 be much of our conversation if we were suitably aware 
 that an invisible hand is recording our utterances ! As 
 there is an eye that sees our actions, however hidden 
 from human observation, so there is an ear that hears 
 whatever we speak. Every word is registered, and we 
 shall have to meet it in our final trial at the great day. 
 
504 HEARERS. 
 
 The following advice Shakspeare makes Polonious give 
 to his son Laertes, when about to set out on his travels* 
 
 Give thy thoughts no tongue, 
 Nor any unproportioned thought his act. 
 Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar ; 
 The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 
 Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel ; 
 But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 
 Of each new-hatched, unfledg'd comrade. Beware 
 Of entrance to a quarrel ; but, being in, 
 Bear't,that th' opposed may beware of thee. 
 Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; 
 Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment 
 Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, 
 But not express' d in fancy; rich, not gaudy: 
 For the apparel oft proclaims the man. 
 Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; 
 For loan oft loses both itself and friend, 
 And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. 
 This above all — to thine own self be true ; 
 And it must follow, as the night the day, 
 Thou canst not then be false to any man. 
 
 HEARERS. 
 
 It is a Jewish proverb that hearers are of four sorts — 
 the sponge, which swallows up everything; the funnel, 
 which allows that to escape at one end which it receives 
 at the other; the filterer which allows the liquor to 
 escape and retains the dregs ; the seive, which rejects the 
 chaff and retains nothing but the wheat. 
 
 To listen well is a most rare accomplishment. Indeed, 
 it is a thing beyond an accomplishment. It takes a great 
 man to make a good listener. The ordinary hindrances 
 to good listening are very considerable, such as th£ de- 
 sire to talk one's self, proneness to interrupt, the inaccu- 
 racy, — if one may use such an expression, — of most men 
 in listening. 
 
 But there is something which prevents good listening 
 in a much more subtle way, and to a much more danger- 
 ous extent, than any of the above named hindrances. It 
 is this: — As soon as you begin to give utterance to some 
 sentiment or opinion, narrate some story, declare some 
 fact, you will find that your hearer, in nine cases out of 
 
HEARERS. 505 
 
 ten, strikes at once a mental attitude in reference to what 
 you say. He receives it as a friend, or as a foe, or as a 
 critic, or as an advocate, or as a judge. Now, all these 
 characters may afterwards be fairly taken up; but the 
 first thing is to listen, if it may be so expressed, out of 
 character, — to be a bona fide listener and nothing more. 
 This requires some of the simplicity of greatness. It in- 
 dicates the existence, too, of that respect which really 
 great men have for other men, and for truth. 
 
 It is a sure method of obliging in conversation to show 
 a pleasure in giving attention. 
 
 The following are given as hints to hearers: — 1. Turr. 
 a deaf ear to slanders; be sure never to mention them 
 again. 2. Feed not the innate desire to hear ill of an- 
 other. 3. Listen to no tale against another, which you 
 are requested not to repeat. 4. Beware of conversation 
 with a tale-bearer, or with one who revealeth secrets. 
 5. Beware of the busy, self-important messenger ; remem- 
 ber that "he that is first in his own cause seemeth just* 
 but his neighbor cometh and searcheth him." 6. If you 
 should hear ill of another, remember that your informant 
 may be mistaken or deceived ; he may be misinformed, 
 or prejudiced by party spirit. 7. In any doubtful case, 
 communicate with the party before forming a judgment. 
 
 8. Ask counsel of God before mentioning a report again. 
 
 9. Prejudice distorts innocent and even praiseworthy acts 
 beware of taking even a fact from a prejudiced person. 
 From other lips matters might appear very different. 10. 
 Charity puts the best — the want of it, the worst — con 
 struction on what is told us. 11. "Meddle not with him 
 that flattereth with his lips." — Prov. xx. 17. 
 
 The art of not hearing is fully as important to domestic 
 happiness as a cultivated ear, for which so much time and 
 money is expended. There are so many things which it 
 is painful to hear, many of which, if heard, w r ill disturb 
 the temper and detract from contentment and happiness, 
 that every one should be educated to take in or shut out 
 sounds at will. 
 
 If a man falls into a violent passion and calls me all 
 manner of names, the first word shuts my ears and I hear 
 
506 THOUGHT 
 
 no more. If in my quiet voyage of life, I am caught in 
 one of those domestic whirlwinds of scolding, I shut my 
 ears, as a sailor would furl his sails, and, making all tight, 
 scud before the gale. If a hot and restless man begins 
 to inflame my feelings, I consider what mischief these 
 sparks might do in the magazine below, where my temper 
 is kept, and instantly close the door. Does a gadding, 
 mischief-making fellow begin to inform me what people 
 are saying about me, down drops the portcullis of my ear, 
 and he cannot get in any further. 
 
 Some people feel very anxious to hear every thing 
 that will vex or annoy them. If it is hinted that any 
 one has spoken ill of them, they set about searching and 
 finding it out. If all the petty things said of one by the 
 heedless or ill-natured idlers were to be brought home to 
 him, he would become a mere walking pincushion, stuck 
 full of sharp remarks. I should as soon thank a man for 
 emptying on my head a bushel of nettles, or setting loose 
 a swarm of mosquitoes in my chamber, or raising a pun- 
 gent dust in my house generally, as to bring upon me all 
 the tattle of spiteful people. If you would be happy, 
 when among good men open your ears; when among 
 bad, shut them. 
 
 It is not worth while to hear what your servants say 
 when they are angry ; what your children say when they 
 have slammed the door ; what a beggar says whose peti- 
 tion you have rejected; what your neighbors say about 
 your children; what your rivals say about your business 
 or dress. I have noticed that a well-bred woman never 
 hears an impertinent remark. A kind of discreet deaf- 
 ness saves one from many insults, from much blame, 
 from not a little apparent connivance in dishonorable 
 conversation. 
 
 THOUGHT. 
 
 To think correctly is a great accomplishment. Sir 
 Isaac Newton, on being asked how he had discovered the 
 system of the universe, replied, " By continually think- 
 
THOUGHT. 507 
 
 ing upon it." At another time he said, u By thinking I 
 have triumphed." There never was a great action which 
 had not nearly or remotely, a great thought for its an- 
 cestor. 
 
 Thinking, not growth, makes perfect manhood. There 
 are some, who, though they are done growing are only 
 boys. The constitution may be fixed, while the judg- 
 ment is immature ; the limbs may be strong, while the 
 reasoning is feeble. Many who can run and jump, and 
 bear any fatigue, can not observe, can not examine, can 
 not reason or judge, contrive or execute — they do not 
 think. Accustom yourself, then, to thinking. Set your- 
 self to understand whatever you see or read. To run 
 through a book is not a difficult task, nor is it a profitable 
 one. To understand a few pages only, is far better than 
 to read the whole, where mere reading it is all. If the 
 work does not set you to thinking, either you or the 
 author must be very deficient. It is only by thinking 
 that a man can know himself. Yet all other knowledge 
 without this is splendid ignorance. Not a glance merely, 
 but much close examination will be requisite for the 
 forming a true opinion of your own powers. Ignorance 
 and self-conceit always tend to make you overrate your 
 personal ability; as a slight degree of knowledge may 
 make a timid mind pass upon himself too humble a judg- 
 ment. It is only by thinking, and much impartial obser- 
 vation, that a man can discover his real disposition. A 
 hasty temper only supposes itself properly alive; an in- 
 dolent indulger imagines he is as active as any one ; but 
 by close and severe examination each may discover some- 
 thing nearer the truth. Thinking is, indeed, the very 
 germ of self-cultivation — the source from which all vital 
 influence springs. Thinking will do much for an active 
 mind, even in the absence of books, or living instructors. 
 The reasoning faculty grows firm, expands, discerns its 
 own powers, acts with increasing facility, precision and 
 extent, under all its privations. Where there is no priva- 
 tion, but every help from former thinkers, how much 
 may we not expect from it! Thus great characters rise. 
 While he who thinks little, though much he reads, or 
 
508 THOUGHT. 
 
 much he sees, can hardly call anything he has his own. 
 He trades with borrowed capital, and is in the high 
 road to literary or rather to mental bankruptcy. 
 
 Next to the good heart and clear conscience, is the 
 clear head. Dull thinkers are always led by sharp ones. 
 The keen intellect cuts its way smoothly, gracefully, rap- 
 idly; the dull one wears its life out against the simplest 
 problems. To perceive accurately and to think correctly, 
 is the aim of all mental training, and — I had almost said 
 — of life itself. But I will not say that. Heart and con- 
 science are more than the mere intellect. Yet we cannot 
 tell how much the clear, clean-cut thought, — the intel- 
 lectual vision, sharp and true, may aid even these. Some 
 say that a man never feels till he sees, and when the ob- 
 ject disappears, the feeling ceases. So we cannot exag- 
 gerate the importance of clear, correct thinking. We 
 should eat, drink, sleep, walk, exercise body and mind, 
 to this end. Just so far as we fail, we make dolts and 
 idiots of ourselves. We cast away our natural armor and 
 defense. The designing make us dupes, we are over- 
 reached by the crafty, and trodden under foot by the 
 strong. Very likely there is a low murmur of conscience, 
 too, for falling below its pure ideal. This adds a sharp 
 sting to the shame of conscious dullness. A man's great 
 power in the natural world, — among Nature's forces, 
 water, steam and lightning, — is not in his muscle, but his 
 brain. Any horse can pull harder, lift more and endure 
 it longer than the most perfectly developed man. But a 
 single human brain can rule a nation of horses. It is for 
 us, then, to look out for this. If we would share what 
 has not only given Napoleons, Csesars and Alexanders 
 their power, but the great conquerors of natural forces 
 as well, — the Fultons and the Morses, — let us look out for 
 brain; see that late suppers and indigestion do not rob 
 it of vitality, that alcohol does not harden it, nor want 
 of sleep goad it on to insanity; but that natural, honest 
 living may render it the clear, strong, glorious thing it 
 may become. 
 
 All mental superiority originates in habits of thinking. 
 A child, indeed, like a machine, may be made to perform 
 
THOUGHT. 509 
 
 certain functions by external means; but it is only when 
 he begins to think that he rises to the dignity of a 
 rational being. It is not reading, but thinking, that 
 gives you the possession of knowledge. A person may 
 see, hear, read and learn, whatever he pleases, and as 
 much as he pleases ; but he will know very little, if any- 
 thing, of it, beyond that which he has thought over, and 
 made the property of his mind. Take away thought 
 from the life of man, and what remains? You may glean 
 knowledge by reading, but you must separate the chaff 
 from the wheat by thinking. Dr. McClintock says : "It 
 is a great guilt in any man to allow any mental faculties 
 he may possess to become rusty from disuse, or to sub- 
 mit implicitly to another." 
 
 But deep thinking implies earnest acting. Let an in- 
 dividual give careful, rational, intelligent thought to any 
 principle, and his actions will be characterized and influ- 
 enced by that principle. What stupenduous thoughts 
 must have revolved in the mind of Columbus, that he 
 should give a new world to civilized man. What grand 
 ideas must have glowed in the soul of a Newton, that he 
 should reveal the occult laws of the planetary universe. 
 The great inventions of the present and former ages, 
 have been the result of deep and oft times painful 
 thought. Evil thoughts, too, have had their sway. Am- 
 bition has heaped the earth with mangled slain, and 
 Avarice and Malice brought great calamities in their 
 train. Let every person cultivate the powers of deep 
 thinking, connected with those of high moral action — of 
 subjection in all things to the precepts of right, — and a 
 world of new power would be given to society ; — a world 
 of thorough-working, intelligent minds would become 
 active co-operators in carrying forward the great Reforms 
 of the age. Every improvement of our time, whether 
 in science, politics, or religion, would be characterized 
 by a higher spirit, — would tend to the elevation of the 
 people in the scale of virtue and intelligence. 
 
 Our thoughts very greatly influence our actions. It is 
 questionable whether a man could long think on any 
 subject, without the course of his life being colored by 
 
510 THOUGHT 
 
 it. Like certain silkworms which yield silk colored ac- 
 cording to the food they have fed on, so our life grad- 
 ually takes the tinge and hue of the thoughts to which 
 we most accustom ourselves. We have had in our police- 
 courts of late, frequent instances of this. Boys have 
 been studying literature of the Jack Sheppard and Dick 
 Turpin order — and they have become thieves of neces- 
 sity. Men who have been deeply read in French novels, 
 Byronic poetry, and German metaphysics, have become 
 dissolute and sceptical, and none could wonder. You 
 can not send the mind up the chimney, and expect it to 
 come down white. Whatever road the thoughts traverse, 
 all the faculties of manhood will go after them. On the 
 whole, it is of as great importance for a man to take heed 
 what thoughts he entertains, as what company he keeps; 
 for they have the same effect on his mind. Bad thoughts 
 are as infectious as bad company; and good thoughts 
 solace, instruct and entertain the mind, like good com- 
 pany. And this is one great advantage of retirement, 
 that a man may choose what company he pleases from 
 within himself. As in the world we oftener light in bad 
 company than good, so in solitude we are oftener troubled 
 with impertinent and unprofitable thoughts, than enter- 
 tained with agreeable and useful ones; and a man that 
 hath so far lost the command of himself, as to lie at the 
 mercy of every foolish and vexing thought, is much in 
 the same situation as a host whose door is open to all 
 comers; whom, though ever so noisy, rude, or trouble- 
 some, he cannot get rid of; but with this difference, that 
 the latter hath some recompense for his trouble, the for- 
 mer none at all, but is robbed of his peace and quiet for 
 nothing. Carlyle says that each man carries under his 
 hat a "Private Theatre," whereon a greater drama than 
 is ever performed on the mimic stage is acted, beginning 
 and ending in Eternity. 
 
 We cannot guard too much against indulging in 
 thoughts and actions, which, trivial as they may at first 
 appear, would give a cast to our whole character, should 
 they become settled habits. Good thoughts are compan- 
 ions; often our best. Impure thoughts are the seeds of 
 
THOUGHT. 511 
 
 sin. If dropped into the soil of the mind and heart, 
 they should be cast out immediately ; otherwise they will 
 germinate, spring up, and bear the fruit of sinful words 
 and acts. Entertain no thoughts which you would blush 
 at in words. Beware of evil thoughts. They have done 
 great mischief in the world. Bad thoughts come first, 
 bad words follow, and bad deeds finish the progress. 
 Watch against them, strive against them, pray against 
 them. They prepare the way for the enemy of souls. 
 
 " Bad thought's a thief; he acts his part ; 
 Creeps through the windows of the heart ; 
 And if he once his way can win, 
 He lets a hundred robbers in." 
 
 The value of our thoughts depends much upon the 
 course thy take — whether the subject in hand is examined 
 fully and carefully, or only given an undecided glance, 
 when our thoughts revert to other matters, to be treated 
 in the same desultory way. Many minds from want of 
 training cannot really think, and it is of great importance 
 that right habits of thought be formed and fostered in 
 early life. That mental discipline is of great value which 
 will enable «us to give our close and undivided attention 
 to any subject which we wish to investigate. In order 
 to judge rightly, we must look at a matter on all sides — 
 we must take it in all its bearings, or our judgment is an 
 imperfect and partial one; — and this task is an almost 
 impossible one to those without the habit of close, con- 
 secutive thinking. They try to investigate a matter, but 
 the mind wanders — the thoughts will not be controlled, 
 and they can arrive, but with great effort, at the results 
 so easy to the mind trained from early life to right habits 
 of thought. Parents and teachers can do much to form 
 this habit in those under their care ; and when once ac- 
 quired, its daily exercise on the subjects brought before 
 us in ou^ intercourse with the world and with good 
 books — the repositories of the thought of the past 
 ages, — cannot fail to preserve and improve it. 
 
 He who cannot command his thoughts must not hope 
 to control his actions. All mental superiority originates 
 
512 THOUGHT. 
 
 in habits of thinking. Become master of your thoughts, 
 so that you can command them at pleasure. Whenever 
 you read, have your thoughts about you. Make careful 
 observations as you pass along, and select subjects upon 
 which your mind shall dwell when your book shall have 
 been laid aside. He who reads only for present gratifi- 
 cation and neglects to digest what he reads, nor calls it 
 up for future contemplation, will not be likely to ever 
 know the extent of his own powers, for the test best cal- 
 culated to make them known will remain unemployed. 
 Consider the great field which is open before you. The 
 manifold works of nature — earth, sea, air with their in- 
 habitants, and the heavenly bodies, all invite your atten- 
 tion. Into whichever department you take your way, 
 you will be amazed at the magnitude and grandeur of 
 the objects by which you are surrounded, and your mind 
 will be filled with the most exalted conceptions of the 
 goodness, wisdom and power of the Creator. 
 
 As a creature of memory, every thought which man 
 voluntarily entertains will abide with him forever. If it 
 be a thought in harmony with divine will, and he has 
 acted in harmony with it, it will never cease to yield him 
 good; if he have not so acted, it will never cease to re- 
 proach and condemn him. If it be an evil thought, and 
 he have repented of it, and not carried it out into action, 
 it can never yet cease to be an occasion of regret. If he 
 have not repented of it, it remains with him in effect, as 
 an over-running fountain of pollution. How terrible the 
 ordeal of having to meet the sinful thoughts of a long 
 life of guilt ! How fearful the prospect of having to con- 
 front them not for an age merely, or a million of ages, 
 but to have the ordeal repeated through every point of 
 endless duration. 
 
 In the best of all books, we read, " As a man think- 
 eth in his heart, so is he." Reader, did you ever think 
 of this? Did you ever consider the power, the majesty 
 and the philosophy of thought? Do you comprehend 
 the full measure and meaning of the inspired words, u As 
 a man thinketh in his heart so is he?" Man is not as he 
 seems nor as he acts, but as he thinks. It is thought and 
 
THOUGHT. 513 
 
 not deeds that makes the man. Deeds are the paper cur- 
 rency of character stamped in the mint of purity. Deeds 
 make reputation — thought makes character. Reputation 
 is what a man is thought to be — character is what a man 
 is. Thought surpasses deeds in its essential power and 
 grandeur in the same ratio as character surpasses reputa- 
 tion. As a man's thoughts are so is his life. As a man 
 thinks so he acts; his life is the perpetual index of his 
 thoughts. As he thinks of sales, and schemes, and bar- 
 gains, so is he in politics. As he thinks of truth and vir- 
 tue, so is he in morals. As he thinks of Christ and Reli- 
 gion, so is he in piety. The statement, then, that it 
 does not matter what a man thinks or believes, so his life 
 is right, is as false in fact as it is dangerous in theory. A 
 man's character is good or bad, in exact correspondence 
 with his thoughts. Doctrine and duty are as inseparably 
 joined together as principle and practice, and both are 
 alike indispensable to the formation of a beautiful and 
 consistent character. Believe me, this world is not a 
 world in which we can do well without thinking, and 
 least of all, do well in the matter of our souls. r Don't 
 think," whispers Satan; he knows that an unconverted 
 heart is like a dishonest tradesman's book, — it will not 
 bear a close inspection. " Consider your ways," says the 
 word of God — stop and think — consider and be wise. 
 Well says the Spanish proverb, "Hurry comes of the 
 devil." Just as men marry in haste, and repent at leisure, 
 so they make mistakes about their souls in a minute, and 
 then suffer for it for years. A thinking man, says Carlyle, 
 is the worst enemy the Prince of Darkness can have; 
 every time such a one announces himself, I doubt not 
 there runs a shudder through the nether empire ; -and 
 new emissaries are trained, with new tactics, to, if possi- 
 ble, entrap him, arid hoodwink and handcuff him. 
 
 Evil is wrought from want of thought 
 As well as want of heart. 
 
 Young man, in the flush of early strength, stop and 
 think ere you take a downward step. Many a precious 
 life is wrecked through thoughtlessness alone. If you 
 
 33 
 
514 THOUGHT. 
 
 find yourself in low company, do not sit carelessly by till 
 you are gradually but surely drawn into the whirlpool 
 and shame, but think of the consequences of such a 
 course. Rational thought will lead you to seek the 
 society of your superiors ; and you must improve by the 
 association. A benevolent use of your example and in- 
 fluence for the elevation of your inferiors, is a noble 
 thing; even the most depraved are not beyond such 
 help. But the young man of impressible character must, 
 at least, think, and beware lest he fall himself a victim. 
 Think before you touch the wine; see its effect upon 
 thousands, and know that you are no stronger than they 
 were in their youth. Think before you allow angry pas- 
 sions to overcome your reason; it is thus that murderers 
 are made. Think before, in a dark hour of temptation, 
 you borrow without leave, lest you become a thief. 
 Think well ere a lie or an oath passes your lips; for a 
 man of pure speech only can merit respect. Ah! think 
 on things true and lovely, and of good report, that there 
 may be better men and happier women in the world. 
 
 Nothing promotes fixation of thought more than the 
 closing of our eyes ; for according to the Arabian proverb ; 
 when the five windows of the senses are shut, the house 
 of the mind is fullest of light. 
 
 The blind man thinks more constantly than the seeing 
 man ; this from his habit of uninterrupted introspection. 
 Out of blindness came the Iliad and the Paradise Lost. 
 Thoughts weighed in silence are most likely to develop 
 into wisdom. The revolutions produced by a genius in 
 the world of thought, actually end in actual revolution 
 in society. Thoughts are but dreams till their effects be 
 tried. The best thoughts are ever swiftest winged, the 
 duller lag behind. A thought must have its own way of 
 expression, or it will have no way at all. The thought 
 that lives is only the deeds struggling into birth. It is 
 with our thoughts as with our flowers — those that are 
 simple in expression carry their seed with them; those 
 that are double charm the mind, but produce nothing. 
 
 To think clearly is among the first requirements of a 
 public teacher. The faculty must be improved, like 
 
THOUGHT. 515 
 
 other faculties of the mind and body. One of the best 
 modes of improving in the art of thinking is to think 
 over some subject before you read upon it, and then to 
 observe after what manner it has occurred to the mind of 
 some great master ; you will then observe whether you 
 have been too rash or too timid, in what you have ex- 
 ceeded, and by this process you will insensibly catch a 
 great manner of viewing questions. It is right to study, 
 not only to think, but from time to time to review what 
 has passed ; to dwell upon it, and see what trains of 
 thought voluntarily present themselves to your mind. It 
 is a most superior habit of some minds to refer the par- 
 ticular truths that strike them to other truths more gen- 
 eral; so that their knowledge is beautifully methodized, 
 and that the general truth at any time suggests the par- 
 ticular exemplifications, or any particular exemplification 
 at once leads to the general truth. This kind of an un- 
 dertaking has an immense and a decided superiority over 
 those confused heads in which one fact is piled upon an- 
 other without the least attempt at classification and 
 arrangement. 
 
 Perhaps few persons are aware how much a habit of 
 thought creates a power of thought. Thought engen- 
 ders thought. Place one idea upon paper, another will 
 follow, and still another, until you have written a page. 
 You cannot fathom your mind. There is a well of 
 thought there which has no bottom. The more you draw 
 from it, the more clear and fruitful it will be. If you 
 neglect to think yourself, and use other people's thoughts, 
 giving them utterance only, you will never know what 
 you are capable of. At first your ideas may come in 
 lumps — homely and shapeless — but no matter; time and 
 perseverance will polish them. Learn to think and you 
 will learn to write ; the more you think the better you 
 will be enabled to express your ideas. 
 
 Speaking without thinking is shooting without taking 
 aim. A thinker very truly says that he who cannot 
 clearly express a thought cannot think one, for thoughts, 
 like Minerva, are born with their clothes on. Some 
 persons complain that they cannot find words for their 
 
516 THOUGHT. 
 
 thoughts, when the real trouble is they cannot find 
 thoughts for their words. The man who thinks labori- 
 ously will express himself concisely. It is only by labor 
 that thought can be made healthy, and only by thought 
 that labor can be made happy. It is not depth of thought 
 which makes obscure to others the work of a thinker; 
 real and offensive obscurity comes merely of inadequate 
 thought embodied in inadequate language. What is 
 clearly comprehended or conceived, when what is duly 
 wrought and thought out, must find for itself and seize 
 upon the clearest and fullest expression. That grave and 
 deep matter should be treated with the fluency and 
 facility proper to light and slight things, no one is foolish 
 enough to desire ; but we may at least demand that what- 
 ever of message a speaker may have for us be delivered 
 without impediment of speech. A style that stammers 
 and rambles and stumbles, that stagnates here, and there 
 overflows into waste marsh, relieved only by thick patches 
 of powdery bulrush, and such bright flowerage of barren 
 blossoms as is bred of the fogs and the fens — such a style 
 gives no warrant of depth or soundness in the matter 
 thus arrayed and set forth. To be a good thinker, you 
 must be a little abstemious in eating. The writer who 
 gorges his stomach gives thin gruel to his readers. 
 
 St. John, the biographer of Montaigne, says he made 
 it, as it were, a business to think at his castle. He was 
 ever on the look-out for ideas and images. A thought 
 would suddenly strike him in the family part of his house, 
 and he would often, not having his tablets at hand, hurry 
 across the court and climb his tower, in order to set it 
 down. Experience, however, had taught him that the 
 thought might be lost on the way, whisked out of sight, 
 by some sudden gust of sensation ; so he used to take 
 care before setting out to tell it to his wife, his daughter, 
 or anybody else who might happen to be at hand. Says 
 Channing, one great and kindling thought, from a retired 
 and obscure man, may live when thrones are fallen, and 
 the memory of those who filled them is obliterated ; and, 
 like an undying fire, may illuminate and quicken all- 
 future generations. It is a terrible thought to remember 
 
MEMORY. 517 
 
 that nothing can be forgotten. I have somewhere read 
 that not an oath is uttered that does not continue to vi- 
 brate through all time, in the wide-spreading current of 
 sound, — not a prayer lisped that its record is not to be 
 found stamped on the laws of nature by the indelible seal 
 of the Almighty's will. Let no one imagine, as too many 
 are apt to do, that it is a matter of indifference what 
 thoughts he entertains in his heart. Most of our thoughts 
 and actions may be minute, and unnoticed by ourselves 
 and others, and yet their result is, character for eternity. 
 Prof. Park tells us there are some things which it is allow- 
 able to write, which had better not be printed; some 
 things which one may speak in very private conversation, 
 which he would not commit to paper; and some things 
 which he may think of, which he would not utter to his 
 most intimate friend; and finally, some things which it is 
 a shame even to think of. 
 
 The pleasantest things in the world are pleasant 
 thoughts ; and the greatest art in life is to have as many 
 of them as possible. 
 
 MEMORY. 
 
 Some one has said that of all the gifts with which a benefi- 
 cent Providence has endowed man, the gift of memory is 
 the noblest. Without it life would be a blank — a dreary 
 void, an inextricable chaos, an unlettered page cast upon 
 the vast ocean of uncertainty. 
 
 Memory is too often accused of treachery and incon- 
 stancy, when, if inquired into, the fault will be found to 
 rest with ourselves. Although nature has wisely propor- 
 tioned the strength and liberality of her gifts to the vari- 
 ous intellects around, yet all have it in their power to 
 improve it, by classing, analyzing and arranging the dif- 
 ferent subjects which successively occupy their minds. 
 By these means habits of thought and reflection are ac- 
 quired, which will materially conduce to the invigorating 
 of the understanding, the improvement of the mind, and 
 the strengthening and correction of the mental powers, 
 
518 MEMORY. 
 
 or, to use an Eastern aphorism, "The weakest capacity, 
 by aiming at excellence, will be above mediocrity; the 
 strongest, by aiming at mediocrity, will fall short of it." 
 
 A quick and retentive memory, both of words and 
 things, is an invaluable treasure and may be had by any 
 one who will take the pains. Theodore Parker, when in 
 the Divinity School, had a notion that his memory was 
 defective and needed looking after, and he had an im- 
 mense chronological chart hung up in his room and 
 tasked himself to commit the contents — all the names and 
 dates from Adam and the year one down through Nimrod, 
 Ptolemy, Soter, Heliogabalus and the rest. Our verbal 
 memory soonest fails us, unless we attend to it, and keep 
 it in fresh order. A child will commit and recite ver- 
 batim easier than an adult, and girls easier than boys. 
 To keep the verbal memory fresh, it is capital exercise to 
 study and acquire new languages, or commit and treasure 
 up choice passages, making them a part of our mental 
 wealth. Sir William Hamilton tells some huge stories in 
 his lectures on Memory. Ben. Jonson could not only 
 repeat all he had ever written, but whole books he had 
 read. Niebuhr in his youth was employed in one of the 
 public offices of Denmark, where part of a book of ac- 
 counts having been lost, he restored it from his recol- 
 lection. 
 
 The following examples of the marvels of memory 
 would seem entirely incredible had they not been given to 
 us upon the highest authority. Cyrus knew the name of 
 each soldier in his army. It is also related of Themis- 
 tocles that he could call by name every citizen of Athens, 
 although the number amounted to 20,000. Mithridates, 
 king of Pontus, knew all his 80,000 soldiers by their 
 right names. Scipio knew all the inhabitants of Rome, 
 Seneca complained of old age because he could not, as 
 formerly, repeat 2,000 names in the order in which they 
 were read to him ; and he stated that on one occasion, 
 when at his studies, 200 unconnected verses having been 
 recited by the different pupils of his preceptor, he re- 
 peated them in a reversed order, proceeding from the 
 last to the first. Lord Granville could repeat, from be- 
 
MEMORY. 519 
 
 ginning to end, the New Testament in the original Greek. 
 Cooke, the tragedian, is said to have committed to 
 memory all the contents of a large daily newspaper. 
 Racine could recite all the tragedies of Euripides. It is 
 said that George III. never forgot a face he had once 
 seen, nor a name he had ever heard. Mirandola would 
 commit to memory the contents of a book by reading it 
 three times, and could frequently repeat the words back- 
 ward as well as forward. Thomas Cranmer committed to 
 memory in three months, an entire translation of the 
 Bible. Euler, the mathematician, could repeat the iEneid ; 
 and Leibnitz, when an old man, could recite the whole of 
 Virgil, word for word. It is said that Bossuet could 
 repeat not only the whole Bible, but all Homer, Virgil, 
 and Horace, besides many other works. 
 
 Mozart had a wonderful memory of musical sounds. 
 When only fourteen years of age he went to Rome to 
 assist in the solemnities of Holy Week. Immediately 
 after his arrival he went to the Sistine Chapel to hear the 
 famous Miserere of Allegri. Being aware that it was for- 
 bidden to take or give a copy of this renowned piece of 
 music, Mozart placed himself in a corner, and gave the 
 strictest attention to the music, and on leaving the church 
 noted down the entire piece. A few days afterward he 
 heard it a second time, and following the music with his 
 own copy in his hand, satisfied himself of the fidelity of 
 his memory. The next day he sang the Miserere at a 
 concert, accompanying himself on the harpsichord; and 
 the performance produced such a sensation in Rome, that 
 Pope Clement XIV. requested that this musical prodigy 
 should be presented to him at once. 
 
 The following instance illustrates the retentive memory 
 of Sir Walter Scott. He and the poet Campbell had 
 been enjoying a sail on the river. The poet took the 
 opportunity to read aloud in manuscript his poem of 
 Hohenlinden to the great delight of the novelist, who 
 was particularly fond of heroic verse. Some days after, 
 Campbell remarked to Sir Walter that he had lost the 
 manuscript of his poem, and could not recollect a word 
 of it. "I think I can assist you," said Scott, humorously ; 
 
520 THE MIND. 
 
 "get your pen and I will dictate," and, to the profound 
 astonishment of the bard of Hope, he repeated the entire 
 poem verbatim. 
 
 Edward Everett was accustomed to deliver his cele- 
 brated orations on Washington, and on Webster, and 
 others without the aid of any note whatsoever. This ex- 
 traordinary power of memory enabled him to give to 
 his great addresses all the exquisite finish which the most 
 sedulous care in composition can bestow, while by long 
 practice he was enabled to impart quite an air of extem- 
 poraneous effusion to the delivery of fervors a week, a 
 month, or perhaps several years old. 
 
 A good memory is a good thing, but we would not 
 advise any of our young readers to depend on it. You 
 must learn to think as well as to remember, and don't 
 crowd your minds with all sorts of rubbish merely be- 
 cause you can remember. Memory should be a store- 
 house, not a lumber room. 
 
 Memory is a precious, a golden key, opening to us 
 life's richest treasures. It is often debated which is the 
 most enjoyable, the anticipation of a pleasure or its reali- 
 zation ; but the power of recalling, mellowed and hal- 
 lowed by the lapse of time, is more potent than either. 
 Memory is not so brilliant as Hope, but it is almost as 
 beautiful, and a thousand times as true. 
 
 Memory is the only paradise we are sure of always 
 preserving. Even our first parents could not be driven 
 out of it. The memory of good actions is the starlight 
 of the soul. 
 
 The man that forgets a good deal that has happened, 
 has a better memory than he who remembers a great deal 
 that never happened. 
 
 THE MIND. 
 
 Man is feeble of body ; his principal strength lies in 
 his mind. Apart from his superior intellectual faculties, 
 he would be one of the most helpless, forlorn, and 
 wretched animals, upon the face of the earth. It is man, 
 
THE MIND. 521 
 
 it is mind, it is intelligent spirit, that gives to this grand 
 theatre of the material universe all its worth, all its glory. 
 
 Chapin eloquently says that music, sculpture, poetry, 
 painting — these are glorious works; but the soul that 
 creates them is more glorious than they. The music 
 shall die on the passing wind, the poem may be lost in 
 the confusion of tongues, the marble will crumble, and 
 the canvass will fade, while the soul shall be quenchless 
 and strong, filled with a nobler melody, kindling with 
 loftier themes, projecting images of unearthly beauty, 
 and drinking from springs of imperishable life. 
 
 A beautiful mind is like a precious and prolific seed — 
 the mother of loveliness — the fountain of bliss — the 
 produce of many treasured and inestimable flowers — no 
 canker can deface, nor time destroy. Even should there 
 be those of its lovely produce that pass away, yet the 
 source is there — the seed remains to revive, to modify — 
 to place again on our bosom, and near our hearts, in re- 
 newed beauty — in the same deep interest and winning 
 power as at first. We would, gather it in as the richest 
 possession — as the well spring of the purest, most abund- 
 ant and enduring joys — as our support, our comfort, and 
 the cherished object, worthy of our highest admiration; 
 and we would cling to it, thanking God that it is immor- 
 tal — living forever. 
 
 The mind is like a glowing spark, which, when suf- 
 fered to rest, is ever in danger of being smothered by 
 the dross and ashes which life deposits. It must be kept 
 constantly in motion, lest it perish in its youth. The 
 quiet monotony which is so suitable to the body, as it 
 becomes impelled by age, is fatal to the mind. 
 
 Is not the mind of childhood the tenderest, holiest 
 thing this side of Heaven? Is it not to be approached 
 with gentleness, with love — yes, with a heart-worship of 
 the great God from whom, in almost angel innocence, it 
 has proceeded? A creature undefiled by the taint of the 
 world, unvexed by its injustice, unwearied by its hollow 
 pleasures. A being fresh from the source of light, with 
 something of its universal lustre. If childhood be this, 
 how holy the duty to see that, in its onward growth, it 
 
522 THE MIND. \ 
 
 shall be no other! To stand as a watcher at the temple, 
 least any unclean thing should enter it. A straw will 
 make an impression on the virgin snow. Let it remain 
 a short time, and a horse's hoof can hardly penetrate it. 
 So it is with the youthful mind. A trifling word may 
 make an impression upon it, but after a few years the 
 most powerful appeals may cease to influence it. Think 
 of this, ye who have the training of the infant mind, and 
 leave such an impression thereon as will be safe for it to 
 carry amid the follies and temptations of the world. 
 
 The mind ought to be apprenticed, as well as the limbs 
 and muscles ; the skillful intellect, as well as the cunning 
 hand, enters into the stock-in-trade of the successful arti- 
 san. Knowledge does not impair a man's ability to labor, 
 but increases it. A man is none the less competent in 
 any branch of industry for uniting with his activity, the 
 skill and tact of a cultivated understanding or a disci- 
 plined heart. So far from it, these qualities form the most 
 active elements of his strength, and the surest pledges of 
 his success. Knowledge cannot, indeed, supply the place 
 of energy and strength. A good mind without the 
 strong muscle would make a bad mechanic ; a replenished 
 memory is no substitute for persevering industry. But 
 the completest artisan is he who combines the two in 
 best proportions, and who has the enlarged mind to 
 enrich the energies of the strong and well-disciplined 
 body. 
 
 Lord Canarvon, in addressing the people of Birming- 
 ham, used the following illustration: " Travelers tell us 
 that in some of the Eastern seas, where those wonderful 
 coral islands exist, the insect that forms the coral within 
 the reefs, where they are under shelter of protecting 
 rocks, out of the reach of wind and wave, work quicker, 
 and their work is, apparently to the eye, sound and good. 
 But on the other hand, those little workers who work 
 outside those reefs in the foam and dash of the waves, are 
 fortified and hardened, and their work is firmer and more 
 enduring. And so I believe it is with men. The more 
 their minds are braced up by conflict, by the necessity 
 of forming opinions upon difficult subjects, the better 
 
THE MIND. 523 
 
 they will be qualified to go through the hard wear and 
 tear of the world, the better they will be able to hold 
 their own in that conflict of opinion which, after all, it is 
 man's duty to meet." 
 
 Said Daniel Webster, "The Creator has so constituted 
 the human intellect that it can grow only by its own 
 action ; and by its own action and free will it will cer- 
 tainly and necessarily grow. Every man must, therefore, 
 educate himself. Costly apparatus and splendid cabinets 
 have no magical power to make scholars. In all circum- 
 stances, as a man is, under God, the maker of his own 
 fortune, so is he the maker of his own mind. Strength 
 of mind is exercise, not rest." 
 
 The gifts of the mind are able to cover the defects of 
 the body ; but the perfections of the body cannot hide 
 the imperfections of the mind. Where the senses, and 
 their perceptions, are vigorously employed, there the in- 
 tellectual powers cease to act. Body and mind are har- 
 nessed together for the journey of life. They will get 
 along badly if the coachman, judgment, drives one faster 
 than the other. 
 
 The mind's vegetative power can not be idle. If it is 
 not laid and planted in flowers, it will shoot up in nox- 
 ious weeds. The mind, in its everlasting progress in the 
 upward course of virtue, or downward course of vice, 
 must ere long be infinitely happy or inconceivably mis- 
 erable. Old age will prove a joyless and dreary season, 
 if we arrive at it with an unimproved, or a corrupted 
 mind. Mental pleasures never cloy ; unlike those of the 
 body, they increase by repetition, approved of by reflec- 
 tion, and strengthened by enjoyment. It is the duty of 
 every one, to cultivate the heart and mind. A cultivated 
 mind and good heart will give an intellectual and even 
 beautiful expression to the face. The health of the mind 
 is more important than the health of the body. Anguish 
 of mind has driven thousands to suicide; anguish of 
 body, none. 
 
 The mind of the child has been called a sheet of white 
 paper, but how often nurses and nursing maids are 
 allowed to write all over with their pot-hooks and hangers. 
 
524 THE MIND. 
 
 Daniel Webster never uttered a truer or grander 
 thought than the following — couched, too, in that sturdy 
 Saxon he handled so well: "If we work upon marble, 
 it will perish. If we work upon brass, time will efface 
 it. If we rear temples; they will crumble into dust. 
 But if we work upon immortal minds — if we imbue 
 them with high principles — with the just fear of God 
 and of their fellow-men, — we engrave upon those tablets 
 something which no time can efface, but which will 
 brighten to all eternity." In this way we may all be 
 artists; and even the most ordinary and unlearned, if he 
 have but an earnest and loving heart, may produce a 
 master-piece. The professor or lecturer may cut deep 
 lines and fashion wondrous forms on the unwrought ma- 
 terial before him. The teacher in the common school 
 or the Sabbath school may, with the sunlight of truth, 
 photograph upon the tender minds committed to his 
 charge a thousand forms of holy beauty. The humblest, 
 most quiet man may write upon his neighbor's heart 
 good thoughts and kind words which will last forever. 
 And such a monument will be a real immortality ; "more 
 enduring than brass, and loftier than the regal majesty of 
 the pyramids." Such a record, instead of growing dim 
 with time, will grow deeper with eternity; and will still 
 be bold and legible, when the sculptures of Nineveh, 
 which have outlasted the centuries, shall have all faded 
 out, and the steel pictures of modern art shall be all for- 
 gotten. And when the things which the dimness of time 
 obscures shall be revealed by the light of eternity, the 
 names of these unknown artists shall be found written, 
 not on tables of bronze or stone, but on "the fleshy 
 tables of the heart" and the unfading pages of the soul. 
 
 The mind is like a trunk. If well packed, it holds 
 almost everything; if ill-packed, next to nothing. Like 
 the soil, it rises in value according to the nature and 
 degree of its cultivation. It is always a sign of poverty 
 of mind when men are ever aiming to appear great; for 
 they who are really great never seem to know it. 
 
 One good head is better than a great many hands. As 
 any action or posture long continued will disfigure the 
 
THE MIND. 525 
 
 limbs; so the mind likewise is crippled and contracted 
 by perpetual attention to the same set of ideas. 
 
 The mind has more room in it than most people think, 
 if we would but furnish the apartments. It is but an ill- 
 filled mind that is filled with other people's thoughts. 
 He that has no resources of mind is more to be pitied 
 than he who is in want of necessaries for the body; and 
 to be obliged to beg our daily happiness from others, 
 bespeaks a more lamentable poverty than that of him 
 who begs his daily bread. A purse without money is 
 better than a head without brains; the first may be filled, 
 but the other can't. A vacant mind is open to all sug- 
 gestions, as the hollow mountain returns a response to all 
 sounds. If we may be allowed to compare intellectual 
 wealth to pecuniary, we may say, that, from a man's 
 speaking, we can guess how much ready money he has; 
 from his reading, what legacies have been left him; and 
 from his writing, how much he can sit down and draw 
 for on his banker. Neither wealth nor birth, but mind 
 only, should be the aristocracy of a free people. 
 
 There is no sight in the eye, when the mind does not 
 see. We all know that our intellectual perceptions 
 greatly depend on our moral standpoint. We see those 
 things which we are willing to see, and if there is any- 
 thing in the heart which points in a particular direction 
 we find it exceedingly difficult to prevent the intellectual 
 from going in that direction too. 
 
 It rarely happens that one artificial mind can succeed 
 in forming another ; we seldom imitate what we do not 
 love. A quiet mind, like other blessings, is more easily 
 lost than gained. Little minds rejoice over the errors of 
 men of genius, as the owl rejoices at an eclipse. Large 
 minds, like large pictures, are seen best at a distance. 
 The more mind we have, the more original men do we 
 discover there are. Common people find no difference 
 between men. A rabid mind continually struggles, a 
 feeble one limps, but a great mind selects the surest points, 
 and upon these it stands. The mind that is much ele- 
 vated and insolent with prosperity, and cast down with 
 adversity, is generally abject and base. A generous mind 
 
526 THE MIND. 
 
 does not feel as belonging to itself alone, but to the 
 whole human race. A mind full of piety and knowledge 
 is always rich ; it is a bank that never fails ; it yields a 
 perpetual dividend of happiness. In many minds, great 
 powers of thinking slumber on through life, because they 
 have never been startled by any incident calculated to 
 take them out of the common routine of every day occur- 
 rence. Strong minds are like the firm grained wood, 
 which 'kindles slowly, but burns long. Some minds are 
 like almond- trees ; they have no foliage, and their 
 thoughts, like the white blossoms, spring from bare and 
 leafless branches. The minds of some people are like 
 the pupil of the human eye, and contract themselves the 
 more the stronger light there is shed upon them. 
 
 It is a miserable state of mind to have few things to 
 desire, and many things to fear. A strong mind is more 
 easily impressed than a weak one ; you will not as readily 
 convince a fool that you are a philosopher, as a philoso- 
 pher that you are a fool. 
 
 The same rule, that a disease well known is half cured, 
 holds as true in the distempers of the mind as in the in- 
 disposition of the body. We would rather a child's right 
 shoulder should grow higher than his left, than that his 
 mind should get the start of his body; for the former 
 would only affect his symmetry, the latter is frequently a 
 fatal symptom. Minds like Dr. Johnson's, acute, but mel- 
 ancholy, resemble strong solvents, consuming the vessels 
 that hold them. It is noticed that people who change 
 their minds often never get a good one. An unculti- 
 vated mind, like neglected ground, will soon be overrun 
 with weeds. 
 
 Beauty, as the flowering blossom, soon fades; but the 
 divine excellency of the mind, like the medicinal virtues 
 of the plant, remain in it when all those charms are with- 
 ered. Personal attraction may for a time fascinate, daz- 
 zle the eye. Beauty may please, but beauty alone never 
 captivates. The lily droops, the rose withers, and beauty 
 sooner or later must decay ; but the charms of the mind 
 are imperishable — they bud and bloom in youth, and con- 
 tinue to flourish as long as life remains. These, and these 
 
 
THE MIND. 527 
 
 alone, are the charms that must and will forever enchant. 
 The mind may be overburdened; like the body, it is 
 strengthened more by the warmth of exercise than of 
 clothes. The most delicate and beautiful mind, like the 
 most delicate flower, is the soonest blighted ; yet it is the 
 source of the most exquisite happiness, as well as count- 
 less evils, owing to its refined sensibilities. Nature has 
 made two kinds of excellent minds; the one to produce 
 beautiful thoughts and beautiful actions, the other to 
 admire them. 
 
 Mind may act upon mind, though bodies be far divided, 
 for the life is the blood, but souls communicate unseen. 
 
 The soul is always busy, and if it be not exercised 
 about serious affairs, will spend its activity upon trifles. 
 
 The soul needs a certain amount of intellectual enjoy- 
 ment to give it strength adequate for the daily struggle 
 in which it is involved. 
 
 There is no sculptor like the mind. The man who 
 thinks, reads, studies, meditates, has intelligence cut in 
 his features, stamped on his brow, and gleaming in his 
 eye. There is nothing that so refines, polishes, and en- 
 nobles face and mein as the constant presence of great 
 thoughts. The man who lives in the region of ideas, 
 moonbeams though they be, become idealized. There 
 are no arts, no gymnastics, no cosmetics, which can con- 
 tribute a tithe so much to the dignity, the strength, the 
 ennobling of man's looks as a great purpose, a high de- 
 termination, a noble principle, an unquenchable enthu- 
 siasm. But more powerful still than any of these, as a 
 beautifier of the person, is the overmastering purpose and 
 pervading disposition of kindness in the heart. Affec- 
 tion is the organizing force in the human constitution. 
 Woman is fairer than man, because she has more affection 
 than man. t Loveliness is the outside of love. Kindness, 
 sweetness, good- will, a prevailing desire and determination 
 to make others happy, make the body a Temple of the 
 Holy Ghost. The soul that is full of pure and generous 
 affections fashions the features into its own angelic like- 
 ness, as the rose by inherent impulse grows in grace and 
 blossoms into loveliness which art cannot equal. There 
 
528 GENIUS, TALENT AND TACT. 
 
 is nothing on earth which so quickly and so perfectly 
 beautifies a face, transfigures a personality, refines, exalts, 
 irradiates with heaven's own impress of loveliness as a 
 pervading, prevailing kindness of heart. The angels are 
 beautiful because they are good, and God is beauty be- 
 cause He is love. 
 
 GENIUS, TALENT AND TACT. 
 
 The world always receives talent with open arms, but 
 often does not know what to do with genius. 
 
 Genius is that quality or character of the mind which 
 is inventive, or generates ; which gives to the world new 
 ideas in science, art, literature, morals, or religion ; which 
 recognizes no set rules or principles, but is a law unto 
 itself, and rejoices in its own originality ; which admitting 
 of a direction, never follows the old beaten track, but 
 strikes out for a new course ; which has no fears of public 
 opinion, nor leans upon public favor — always leads but 
 never follows, which admits no truth unless convinced by 
 experiment, reflection, or investigation, and never bows 
 to the ipse dixit of any man, or society, or creed. 
 
 Talent is that power or capacity of mind which reasons 
 rapidly from cause to effect; which sees through a thing 
 at a glance, and comprehends the rules and principles 
 upon which it works ; which can take in knowledge with- 
 out laborious mental study, and needs no labored illustra- 
 tions to impress a principle or a fact no matter how ab- 
 struse, hidden, complex, or intricate. Differing from 
 genius by following rules and principles, but capable of 
 comprehending the works of genius — imitating with ease, 
 and thereby claiming a certain kind of originality, talent 
 is the able, comprehensive agent; while genius is the 
 master director. 
 
 Genius is rather inward, creative, and angelic ; talent, 
 outward, practical, and worldly. Genius disdains and 
 defies imitation; talent is often the result of universal 
 imitation in respect to everything that may contribute to 
 the desired excellence. Genius has quick and strong 
 
529 
 
 sympathies, and is sometimes given to reverie and vision ; 
 talent is cool and wise, and seldom loses sight of common 
 sense. Genius is born for a particular purpose, in which 
 it surpasses ; talent is versatile, and may make a respect- 
 able figure at almost anything. 
 
 Talent is full of thoughts; but genius full of thought. 
 Genius makes its observations in short hand ; talent writes 
 them out at length. Talent is a very common family- 
 trait, genius belongs rather to individuals; just as you 
 find one giant or one dwarf in a family, but rarely a 
 whole brood of either. Men of genius are often dull 
 and inert in society, as the blazing meteor when it de- 
 scends to earth is only a stone. 
 
 It is one of the mysteries of our life that genius, that 
 noblest gift of God to man, is nourished by poverty. Its 
 greatest works have been achieved by the sorrowing ones 
 of the world in tears and despair. Not in the brilliant 
 saloon, furnished with every comfort and elegance; not 
 in the library well fitted, softly carpeted, and looking out 
 upon a smooth, green lawn, or a broad expanse of scenery ; 
 not in ease and competence — is genius born and nurtured; 
 more frequently in adversity, and destitution, amidst the 
 harrassing cares of a straitened household, in bare and 
 fireless garrets, with the noise of squalid children, in the 
 midst of the turbulence of domestic contentions, and in 
 the deep gloom of uncheered despair, is genius born and 
 reared. This is its birth-place, and in scenes like these, 
 unpropitious, repulsive, wretched, have men labored, 
 studied and trained themselves, until they have at last 
 emanated out of the gloom of that obscurity the shining 
 lights of their times; become the companions of kings, 
 the guides and teachers of their kind, and exercise an 
 influence upon the thought of the world amounting to a 
 species of intellectual legislation. 
 
 Genius, says Irving, seems to delight in hatching its 
 offspring in by-corners. The house where Shakspeare 
 was born was a small, mean-looking edifice of wood and 
 plaster, and, according to tradition, he was brought up to 
 his father's craft of wool-combing. 
 
 Columbus was the son of a weaver, and a weaver 
 
 34 
 
530 GENIUS, TALENT AND TACT. 
 
 himself. Oliver Cromwell was the son of a brewer. 
 Howard an apprentice to a grocer. Benjamin Franklin, 
 a journeyman printer. Claude Lorraine was bred up a 
 pastry cook. Molliere was the son of a tapestry maker. 
 Cervantes served as a common soldier. Homer was s, 
 beggar. Demosthenes was the son of a cutler. Terence 
 was a slave. Daniel DeFoe was a hosier, and the son of 
 a butcher. Whitefield son of an inn-keeper. Sir Clou 
 desley Shovel, rear admiral of England, was an appren- 
 tice to a shoemaker, and afterwards a cabin boy. Bishop 
 Prideaux worked in the kitchen at Exeter College, Ox- 
 ford. Cardinal Woolsey was the son of a butcher. Fer- 
 guson was a shepherd. William Hogarth was but an 
 apprentice to an engraver of pewter pots. Dr. Mountain, 
 Bishop of Durham, was the son of a beggar. Yirgil, son 
 of a porter. Horace of a shop-keeper. 
 
 There have been very popular writers who were appar- 
 ently brought out by accident. They did not know what 
 precious vein of thought they had at command, till they 
 stumbled upon it as if by chance, like the Indian at the 
 mines of Potosi. It is not much we know of Sbakspeare, 
 but it seems certain it was in patching up old plays for 
 acting, that he discovered within himself a capacity for 
 producing that which men will not easily let die. When 
 a young military man, disheartened with the service, 
 sought for an appointment as an Irish commissioner of 
 excise, and was sadly disappointed because he did not 
 get it, it is probable that he had as little idea as any one 
 else had that he possessed that aptitude for the con- 
 duct of a war which was to make him the Duke of Wel- 
 lington. 
 
 The faculty of genius is the power of lighting its own 
 fire. Genius has its individuality ; it cannot exist with- 
 out it. As each flower has its own fragrance, so is genius, 
 expressive, distinct. Circumstances cannot control genius : 
 it will wrestle with them ; its power will bend and break 
 them to its path. This very audacity is divine. In every 
 work of genius we recognize our own projected thoughts; 
 they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty. 
 Great works of art have no more affecting lesson for us 
 
GENIUS, TALENT AND TACT. 531 
 
 than this. Mediocrity can talk ; but it is for genius to 
 observe. 
 
 The great and decisive test for genius is, that it calls 
 forth power in the souls of others. It not merely gives 
 knowledge but breathes energy. 
 
 What Hume said of Jean Jacques Rosseau — that he 
 was a thin-skinned man among furze-bushes — is too true 
 of most geniuses in their intercourse with men and 
 society. 
 
 What we want in natural abilities may generally and 
 easily be made up in industry ; as a dwarf may keep pace 
 with a giant, if, he will but move his legs a little faster. 
 "Mother!" said the Spartan boy going to battle, u my 
 sword is too short." (Add a step to it,) was the reply. 
 
 To excel others is a proof of talent ; to know when to 
 conceal superiority is a proof of prudence. 
 
 A recent English writer gives the following amusing 
 off-hand portraiture of tact and talent. The writer re- 
 cognizes the just distinction between these two qualities. 
 Tact in its highest manifestation we have considered only 
 a little short of absolute genius. Talent is something, 
 but tact everything. Talent is serious, grave and respect- 
 able; tact is all that and more. It is not a sixth sense, 
 but the life of all the five. It is the open eye, the quick 
 ear, the judging taste, the keen smell, and the lively 
 touch ; it is the interpreter of all riddles — the surmounter 
 of all difficulties — the remover of all obstacles. It is 
 useful in all places and at all times; it is useful in soli- 
 tude, for it shows a man his way through the world. 
 Talent is power — tact is skill ; talent is weight — tact is 
 momentum; talent knows what to do — tact knows how 
 to do it; talent makes a man respectable — tact will make 
 a man respected; talent is wealth — tact is ready money. 
 For all practical purposes of life, tact carries it against 
 talent — ten to one. Talent makes the world wonder that 
 it gets on no faster — tact excites astonishment that it gets 
 on so fast; and the secret is that it has no weighs to carry; 
 it makes no false steps — it hits the right nail on the head 
 — it loses no time — it takes all hints — and by keeping 
 its eye on the weather-cock, is ready to take advantage 
 
532 GENIUS, TALENT AND TACT. 
 
 of every wind that blows. It has the air of common- 
 place, and all the force and powers of genius. It can 
 change sides with hey-presto movement and be at all 
 points of the compass, while talent is ponderously and 
 learnedly shifting a single point. Talent calculates clearly, 
 reasons logically, makes out a case as clear as daylight, 
 utters its oracles with all the weight of justice and reason. 
 Tact refutes without contradicting, puzzles the profound 
 with profundity, and without wit outwits the wise. Set- 
 ting them together on a race for popularity, pen in hand, 
 and tact will distance talent by half the course. Talent 
 brings to market that which is wanted; tact produces 
 that which is wished for. Talent instructs ; tact enlight- 
 ens. Talent leads where no man follows ; tact follows 
 where humor leads. Talent is pleased that it ought to 
 have succeeded; tact is delighted that it has succeeded. 
 Talent toils for a posterity that will never repay it; tact 
 throws away no pains, but catches the passion of the pass- 
 ing hour. Talent builds for eternity, tact on short lease, 
 and gets good interest. Talent is certainly a very fine 
 thing to talk about, a very good thing to be proud of, a 
 very glorious eminence to look down from; but tact is 
 useful, portable, applicable, always marketable; it is the 
 talent of talents, the availableness of resources, the ap- 
 plicability of power, the eye of discrimination, the right 
 hand of intellect. 
 
 Hazlitt says, Genius rushes like a whirlwind — Talent 
 marches like a cavalcade of heavy men and heavy horses 
 — Cleverness skims like a swallow in the Summer evening, 
 with a sharp shrill note, and a sudden turning. The man 
 of genius dwells with men and with nature ; the man of 
 talent in his study ; but the clever man dances here, there 
 and everywhere, like a butterfly in a hurricane, striking 
 everything and enjoying nothing, but too light to be 
 dashed to pieces. The man of talent will attack theories, 
 the clever man will assail the individual, and slander pri- 
 vate character. But the man of genius despises both; 
 he heeds none, he fears none, he lives in himself, shrouded 
 in the consciousness of his own strength ; he interferes 
 with none, and walks forth an example that " eagles fly 
 
GENIUS, TALENT AND TACT. 533 
 
 alone — they are but sheep that herd together." It is true, 
 that should a poisonous worm cross his path, he may- 
 tread it under his foot ; should a cur snarl at him. he 
 may chastise it ; but he will not, cannot, attack the pri- 
 vacy of another. Clever men write verses, men of talent 
 write prose, but the man of genius writes poetry. 
 
 The drafts which true genius draw upon posterity, 
 although they may not always be honored so soon as 
 they are due, are sure to be paid with compound interest 
 in the end. 
 
 It would be a great comfort to men of genius, whether 
 authors, artists, statesmen, or inventors, if they were to 
 recognize this inevitable fact, namely, that the people 
 who live nearest to them, and probably love them most, 
 are less interested in their doings than any other persons. 
 They know all about them, as they think. They have 
 made up their mind about them, and they do not want 
 books, or pictures, or statues, or speeches, or inventions, 
 to tell them what sort of persons are their husbands, or 
 fathers, or sisters, or intimate friends. Domestic famil- 
 iarity has killed curiosity ; and curiosity has something 
 to do with the interest with which we regard any new 
 work of a worker who is not familiarly known to us. 
 
 Do not lightly doubt your own genius, but have strong 
 faith in your inspiration. 
 
 Great powers and natural gifts do not bring privileges 
 to their possessors, so much as they bring duties. A 
 cotemporary, in dilating on genius, thus sagely remarks: 
 The talents granted to a single individual do not 
 benefit himself alone, but are gifts to the world ; every 
 one shares them, for every one suffers or benefits by his 
 actions. Genius is a light-house, meant to give light from 
 afar ; the man who bears it is but the rock upon which 
 the light-house is built. 
 
 Hath God given you genius and learning? It was not 
 that you might amuse or deck yourself with it, and 
 kindle a blaze which should only serve to attract and 
 dazzle the eyes of men. It was intended to be the means 
 of leading both yourself and them to the Father of lights. 
 And it will be your duty, according to the peculiar turn 
 
534 THE TONGUE. 
 
 • 
 
 of that genius and capacity, either to endeavor to pro- 
 mote and adorn human life, or, by a more direct applica- 
 tion of it to divine subjects, to plead the cause of religion, 
 to defend its truths, to enforce and recommend its 
 practice, to deter men from courses which would be dis- 
 honorable to God and fatal to themselves, and to try the 
 utmost efforts of all the- solemnity and tenderness with 
 which you can clothe your addresses, to lead them into 
 the paths of virtue and happiness. 
 
 THE TONGUE. 
 
 Xanthus, upon a certain occasion, designing to treat 
 some of his friends, ordered iEsop to provide the best 
 things they could find in the market, who therefore made 
 a large provision of tongues, which he desired (he cook 
 to send up with different sauces. When dinner came, 
 the first and second courses, the side dishes, and the 
 removes were all tongues. "Did I not order you/' said 
 Xanthus, in a violent passion, " to buy the best victuals the 
 market afforded? " "And have I not obeyed your orders." 
 said^Esop. "Is there anything better than tongues? Is 
 not the tongue the bond of civil society, the key of 
 sciences, and the organ of truth and reason ? By the 
 means of the tongue cities are built, and governments 
 established and administered — with that, men instruct, 
 persuade, and preside in assemblies; it is the instrument 
 with which we acquit ourselves of the chief of all our du- 
 ties, the praising and adoring of the gods." "Well then," 
 replied Xanthus, thinking to catch him, "go to the market 
 again to-morrow, and buy the worst things you can find, 
 this same company will dine with me, and I have a mind 
 to diversify my entertainment," iEsop the next day pro- 
 vided nothing but the same dishes; telling his master the 
 tongue was the worst thing in the world. It is said to be 
 the instrument of all strife and contention, the fomentor 
 of lawsuits, and the cause of divisions and wars ; it is the 
 organ of lies, of error, of calumny and blasphemy. 
 
THE TONGUE. 535 
 
 Sweet and loving words bless every one. Truthful 
 words carry goodness and benefits upon them. Generous 
 words are richer gifts than silver or gold, and keep bright 
 forever. Pitying words bear smiles and joy, and drive 
 away tears. Prayerful words touch God's heart, and 
 bring to us whatever we most need. All these the 
 tongue can speak. And so, when it can speak both these 
 and the many untrue and evil words, it is at once the best 
 and the worst thing we know of. 
 
 The tongue of kindness is full of pity, love and com- 
 fort. It speaks a word of comfort to the desponding, a 
 word of encouragement to the faint-hearted, of sympathy 
 to the bereaved, of consolation to the dying. Urged on 
 by a benevolent heart, it loves to cheer, console and in- 
 vigorate the sons and daughters of sorrow. 
 
 The tongue of discretion knows when to speak and 
 when to be silent. It is not cowardly ; it dares to say all 
 that needs to be said. But it does not tell all that it 
 knows. It is careful what it speaks, when it speaks and 
 to whom it speaks. 
 
 The tongue of knowledge takes no pains in retailing 
 small talk, scandalous reports or little penny-bit affairs 
 of any kind. It prefers sense to nonsense. It aims to 
 say something that may edify the hearer, though it is not 
 ambitious to teach. To please, to enlighten, to do good, 
 is its delight. 
 
 The tongue of truth never stretches itself like India- 
 rubber for the sake of a great story. It dreads all lies, 
 white or black. It is content to tell what it knows, and 
 no more. It loves truth for its own sake and for the sake 
 of its glorious Author. Hence it never ornaments a 
 story with the gaudy ribbons of fancy. Its motto is 
 " Truth" — naked truth — nothing but truth ! 
 
 The tongue of humility does not " speak great swelling 
 words" about astonishing exploits. It boasts not of its 
 own great deeds. It has very little to say of its own 
 merits, except now and then a word or two by way of 
 self-defense. It takes a great deal more delight in 
 praising others than itself. 
 
 By examining the tongue of a patient, physicians find 
 
536 SPEECH. 
 
 out the disease of the body — philosophers of the mind. 
 It is better that the foot slip than the tongue. The 
 tongue is like a wild beast, very difficult to be chained 
 when once let loose. 
 
 The tongue is like a race-horse, it runs faster the less 
 weight it carries. 
 
 The hardest thing to hold in this world is an unruly 
 tongue. 
 
 Never carry a sword in your tongue to wound the repu- 
 tation of any man. 
 
 Life and death are in the power of the tongue. 
 
 A sanctified heart is better than a silver tongue. 
 
 SPEECH. 
 
 We must speak well, and act well. Brave actions are 
 the substance of life, and good sayings the ornament of it. 
 
 Let a good thing be well said. Expression is valuable 
 as well as thought. 
 
 A word once uttered can never be recalled. Words 
 should drop from the lips as beautiful coins newly issued 
 from the mint, — deeply and accurately impressed, per- 
 fectly finished, neatly struck by the proper organs, distinct, 
 sharp, in due succession, and of due weight. 
 
 Studied figures and ornaments in speech are not always 
 conformable to good sense ; they serve more to amuse 
 than to instruct, and are often a burden to the speaker 
 as well as the hearer. 
 
 When you doubt between two words, choose the 
 plainest, the commonest, the most idiomatic. Eschew the 
 fine words, as you would rouge; love simple ones, as 
 you would native roses on your cheeks. Act as you 
 might be disposed to do on your estate; employ such 
 words as have the largest families, keeping clear of found- 
 lings and those of which nobody can tell whence they 
 come, unless he happens to be a scholar. 
 
 Big words are great favorites with people of small 
 ideas and weak conceptions. They are sometimes em- 
 
SPEECH. 537 
 
 ployed by men of mind, when they wish to use language 
 that may best conceal their thoughts. With few excep- 
 tions, however, illiterate and half educated persons use 
 more "big words" than people of thorough education. 
 It is a very common but very egregious mistake to sup- 
 pose the long words are more genteel than short ones — 
 just as the same sort of people imagine high colors and 
 flashy figures improve the style of dress. They are the 
 kind of folks who don't begin, but always " commence." 
 They don't live, but "reside." They don't go to bed, 
 but mysteriously u retire." They don't eat and drink, 
 but "partake of refreshments." They are never sick, 
 but u extremely indisposed." And instead of dying, at 
 last, they "decease." The strength of the English lan- 
 guage is in the short words — chiefly monosyllables of 
 Saxon derivation ; and people who are in earnest seldom 
 use any other. Love, hate, anger, grief, joy, express 
 themselves in short words and direct sentences ; while cun- 
 ning, falsehood and affectation delight in what Horace calls 
 "verba sesqui'pedalia" — words a "foot and a half long." 
 
 Prefer solid sense to wit ; never study to be diverting, 
 without being useful; let no jest intrude upon good 
 manners, nor say anything that may offend modesty. 
 
 Wisdom leads us to speak and act what is most proper; 
 prudence prevents our speaking or acting improperly. 
 
 Better say nothing, than not to the purpose ; and to 
 speak pertinently, consider both what is fit and when it 
 is fit to speak. 
 
 " If wisdom's ways you wisely seek 
 
 Five things observe with care : — 
 Of whom you speak — to whom you speak — 
 
 And how — and when — and where." 
 
 The greatest wisdom of speech, is to know when, what, 
 and where to speak : the time, matter, and manner. The 
 next is silence. 
 
 There is a time when nothing, a time when something, 
 but no time when all things are to be spoken. 
 
 Speak always according to your conscience; but let it 
 be in the terms of good nature, civility, and good 
 manners. 
 
538 words. 
 
 Bad words, like bad shillings, are often brought home 
 to those who utter them. 
 
 Wherever the speech is corrupted, the mind is. Indul- 
 gence in verbal vice soon encourages corresponding vices 
 in conduct. Let any one of you come to talk about any 
 mean or vile practice with a familiar tone, and do you 
 suppose, when the opportunity occurs for committing the 
 mean or vile act, he will be as strong against it as before? 
 It is by no means an unknown thing that men of correct 
 lives talk themselves into crime, into sensuality, into per- 
 dition. Bad language easily runs into bad deeds. Select 
 any iniquity you please ; suffer yourself to converse in its 
 dialect, to use its slang, to speak in the character of one 
 who approves or relishes it, and I need not tell you how 
 soon your moral sense will lower down to its level. Be- 
 coming intimate with it, you lose your horror of it. This 
 obvious principle, of itself, furnishes a reason for watching 
 the tongue. 
 
 WORDS. 
 
 Words are nice things, but they strike hard. We 
 wield them so easily that we are apt to forget their hid- 
 den power. Fitly spoken, they fall like the sunshine, the 
 dew and the summer rain — but when unfitly, like the 
 frost, the hail, and the desolating tempest. 
 
 A casual word, mere sounding breath, how light its 
 import seems! how u big with fate 1 ' it often proves! Not 
 alone words that are the voice of daily thoughts, but 
 words that are only the* utterance of a transient emotion, 
 forgotten as soon as felt; words that are but an idly- 
 spoken impulse melt not away with the air that holds 
 them, but assume mysterious shapes of good or evil to 
 influence and haunt the hearer's life ! These casual words 
 are seeds, scattered perchance by liberal, perchance by 
 thoughtless hands; though lightly, unpremeditately 
 dropped, if they fall upon open, fertile soils, they strike 
 vigorous roots — germinate in silence and darkness, and, 
 before we know that they are planted, bring forth grapes 
 
WORDS 539 s 
 
 or thistles. Blessed are they whose paths on earth may 
 be tracked by the good seed sown in passing words! 
 
 Kind words do not cost much. They never blister the 
 tongue or lips, and we have never heard of any mental 
 trouble arising therefrom. Be not stingy of kind words 
 and pleasing acts, for such are fragrant gifts, whose per- 
 fume will gladden the heart and sweeten the life of all 
 who hear or receive them. The Scotch have this proverb : 
 U A gude word is as soon said as an ill one." A good 
 word for a bad one is worth much and costs little. 
 Words fitly spoken are indeed both precious and beau- 
 tiful — like apples of gold in pictures of silver. 
 
 Words, thoughts, actions! They are all important, and 
 every one of them tells upon our present life and future 
 state. The effect of an action — a thought — a word, may 
 not be immediately evident, it may never be discovered 
 by us or other mortals, but it is there; it is in our lives, 
 and it will continue to work upon our destiny for evil or 
 good when our bodies shall lie mouldering beneath the 
 sod. Like flakes of snow that fall unperceived upon the 
 earth, the seeming unimportant events of life succeed one 
 another; and, as the snow gathers together — as the ava- 
 lanche is formed, so are our habits established and our 
 character determined. No single flake that is added to 
 the drift produces a sensible change ; no single action 
 creates, however it may exhibit, a man's character; but 
 as the tempest hurls the avalanche down the mountain, 
 and overwhelms inhabitants and habitations, so passion, 
 acting upon the elements of mischief which pernicious 
 habits have brought together, by imperceptible accumu- 
 lations, may overthrow the principles of truth and virtue. 
 How important is it, then, that we maintain the most 
 sleepless guard upon our passions, and scrupulously weigh 
 our every word, thought and action. 
 
 There is as much connection between the words and 
 the thoughts as there is between the thoughts and the 
 actions. The latter are not only the expression of the 
 former, but they have a power to react upon the soul. 
 Be careful of your words as well as of your thoughts. A 
 young man who allows himself to use one vulgar or pro- 
 
540 SIMPLICITY. 
 
 fane word has not only shown that there is a foul spot 
 upon his mind, but by the utterance of that word he ex- 
 tends the spot and inflames it, till, by indulgence, it will 
 pollute and ruin his soul. Be careful of your words as 
 well as your thoughts. If you can control the tongue 
 that no improper words are pronounced by it, you will 
 soon be able, also, to control the mind, and save that 
 from corruption. You extinguish the fire by smothering 
 or by preventing bad thoughts bursting out in language. 
 Never utter a word anywhere which you would be 
 ashamed to speak in the presence of the most refined 
 female or the most religious man. Try this practice a 
 little while and you will soon have command of yourself. 
 That which is not fit to be practiced, is not fit to be 
 so much as mentioned. Yile and debauched expressions 
 are the sure mark of an abject and grovelling mind, and 
 the filthy overflowings of a vicious heart. Immodest 
 Words are in all cases indefensible. 
 
 Immodest words admit of no defence, 
 For want of modesty is a want of sense 
 
 SIMPLICITY. 
 
 A servant in a family near Princeton used to attend a 
 school-house meeting, where the students of the seminary 
 preached. One day, upon returning, she told her mis- 
 tress that a plain old man preached a sermon not near as 
 deep as the productions of the students. She understood 
 every word he said. On inquiry it was ascertained that 
 the preacher, that day, was Dr. Alexander, the teacher 
 of the young men. The late Judge Pease, of the Su- 
 preme Court of Ohio, was a noted wag. A young lawyer 
 was once making his first effort before him, and having 
 thrown himself on the wings of imagination into the 
 cloud-land, was preparing for a still higher ascent, when 
 the Judge struck his ruler on the desk, and exclaimed to 
 the astonished orator, "Hold on, hold on, my dear sir! 
 don't go any higher; you are already out of the jurisdic 
 
SIMPLICITY. 541 
 
 tion of this court! " A story is told of a lady who was 
 handling a pair of artificial plates in a dental office, and 
 admiring the fluency with which the dentist described 
 them, asked him, u Can a body eat with these things?" 
 " My dear madam, mastication can be performed with the 
 facility scarcely excelled by Nature herself," responded 
 the dentist. u Yes, I know, but can a body eat with 
 'em ?" replied the woman. A learned theological pro- 
 fessor was once engaged to address a Sunday school. He 
 read a number of verses from the Bible, and then said, 
 " Children, I intend to give you a summary of the truth 
 taught in this portion of the Scriptures." Here the pastor 
 touched him, and suggested that he had better explain 
 to the school what " summary " meant. So he turned 
 around, and said to the children, " your pastor wants me to 
 explain what 'summary ' means, and I will do so. Well, 
 children, 4 summary ' is an abbreviated synopsis of a thing." 
 Use simple, familiar Anglo-Saxon words, in preference 
 to those of Latin and French origin. The latter may 
 seem finer and more high sounding, but the former are 
 stronger and more expressive, and you will be able to- 
 set forth more clearly in them what you have to say. 
 If your thought is a great one, simple words will befit 
 it; if it is trifling or common-place, your grand phraser 
 will only make it seem ridiculous. Father, mother, 
 brother, sister, home, happiness, heaven ; sun, moon, 
 stars, light, heat ; to sit, to stand, to go, to run, to stag- 
 ger, are Anglo-Saxon words ; as are most of those used 
 to express habitual actions, and designate persons and 
 objects familiar and dear to us. Mark the strength, ex- 
 pressiveness and majestic movements of the following 
 lines from Byron's "Destruction of Sennacherib," in 
 which nearly all the words are Anglo-Saxon : 
 
 " For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, 
 And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed ; 
 And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, 
 And their hearts beat but once, and forever lay still I " 
 
 The French and Latin elements of our language, of 
 course, have their place and use, and cannot be left out ; 
 but the Anglo-Saxon should furnish the staple of our 
 common writing and talk. 
 
SARCASM. 
 
 Satire often proceeds less from ill-nature than from tho 
 desire of displaying wit. But the talent of turning men 
 into ridicule, and exposing those we converse with, is 
 the qualification of little, ungenerous tempers. The 
 greatest blemishes are often found in the most shining 
 characters. What an absurd thing it is to pass over all 
 the valuable parts of a man, and fix our attention on his 
 infirmities; to observe his imperfections more than his 
 virtues ! 
 
 I abhor the spirit of ridicule. I despise it, because it 
 is the usual resource of the shallow and base mind ; and 
 when wielded by the strongest hand with the purest in- 
 tentions, an inefficient means of good. The spirit of 
 satire, reversing the spirit of mercy, which is twice 
 blessed, seems to me twice accursed; evil in those who 
 indulge it — evil to those who are the objects of it. You 
 can no more exercise your reason if you live in constant 
 dread of ridicule, than you can enjoy life if you live in 
 constant fear of death. 
 
 Satire is a sort of glass, wherein beholders generally 
 discover every body's face but their own, which is the 
 chief reason for that kind of reception it meets in the 
 world, and that so very few are offended with it. 
 
 He that indulges himself in ridiculing the little imper- 
 fections and weaknesses of his friends, will in time find 
 mankind united against him. The man who sees another 
 ridiculed before him, though he may, for the present, 
 concur in the general laugh, yet in a cool hour, will con- 
 sider the same trick might be played upon him. 
 
 "I suppose we all begin by being too savage," says 
 Thackeray in a letter to a friend. "/ know one who did" 
 meaning himself. "As for Swift," he once wrote to his 
 friend Mr. Hannay, u you haven't made me alter my 
 opinion. I admire, or rather admit, his power as much 
 as you do; but I don't admire that kind of power as 
 much as I did fifteen years ago, or twenty, shall we say ? 
 iove is a higher intellectual exercise than hatred ; and, 
 
 542 
 
jests. 543 
 
 when you get one or two more of those young ones yon 
 write so pleasantly about, you'll come over to the side of 
 of the kind ways, I think, rather than the cruel ones." 
 
 Carlyle, after emptying his quiver of more satirical 
 arrows than any brother essayist, cooly says, "Sarcasm I 
 now see to be, in general, the language of the devil ; for 
 which reason I have long since as good as renounced it." 
 
 There is no weapon in the armory of Wit more effec- 
 tive than repartee, and the French, from whom the word 
 is borrowed, excel in the use of the missile. An anecdote 
 in point occurs to us. Talleyrand had a crooked leg. 
 Madame De Stael squinted. The two hated each other 
 cordially, and meeting one day in an ante-room of the 
 palace of Versailles, the following little passage at arms 
 occurred between them: "Monsieur," said the lady in a 
 tone of mock sympathy, "how is your poor leg this 
 morning?" "Crooked — as you see, Madame," was the 
 quiet reply. That was what might be called a palpable 
 hit. It took the authoress of " Corinne " completely 
 aback, and before she could frame a rejoinder Talleyrand 
 had hobbled out of ear-shot. 
 
 But repartee, indeed sarcasm of any kind, is an " edge 
 tool " that cuts two ways. Its wounds, thoughtlessly in- 
 flicted, are long remembered by the recipients and often 
 to the great prejudice of those who deal them. Many 
 men can more easily forgive a deliberate wrong than a 
 smart personality, if it touches a tender point ; and, there- 
 fore, as it is never good policy to make an enemy for the 
 sake of a joke, it is often better to let a brilliant oppor- 
 tunity for repartee pass, than to risk the consequences of 
 improving it. Smart sayings as well as cures, not unfre- 
 quently "come home to roost." 
 
 The chasm that divides friends — sarcasm. 
 
 JESTS. 
 
 Many are pleased with a jester but never esteem him. 
 A merry fellow is the saddest fellow in the world. 
 
544 jests. 
 
 Avoid those who take pleasure in exposing others to con- 
 tempt by jeering, mocking, or mimicking. Keep off from 
 such as from the heels of a horse that kicks all near him. 
 
 There is nothing more disagreeable than continual 
 jesting. By endeavoring to purchase the reputation of 
 being pleasant, a man often loses the advantage of being 
 thought wise. Many who are wits in jest are fools in 
 earnest. He that makes himself the common jester of a 
 company, has but just wit enough to be a fool. Wanton 
 jests make fools laugh, and wise men frown. 
 
 No injury makes so deep an impression in one's 
 memory, as that which is done by a cutting, malicious 
 jest ; for let it be ever so good, yet it is always bad when 
 it occasions enmity. A bitter jest is the poison of friend- 
 ship. Thou canst not joke an enemy into a friend ; but 
 thou mayst a friend into an enemy. 
 
 As a man should not construe that in earnest which is 
 spoken in jest; so he should not speak that in jest which 
 may be construed in earnest. Nothing is more ridiculous 
 than to be serious about trifles, and to be trifling about 
 serious matters. 
 
 Sharp jests are blunted more by neglecting than by 
 responding, except they be suddenly and wittily retorted. 
 But it is no imputation to a man's wisdom to use a silent 
 scorn. 
 
 A jest told in a grave manner has the better effect ; but 
 you extinguish the appetite of laughter in others, if you 
 prevent them by your own. But be always careful how 
 you jest. The richest jest of the season may be a very 
 unseasonable one. A jest's prosperity lies in the ear of 
 him who hears it, never in the tongue of him who makes 
 it. Yet we may always jest when we please if we are 
 always careful to please when we jest. A pleasant jest 
 in time of misfortune is courage to the heart, strength to 
 the arm, and digestion to the stomach. 
 
 Too much love of the ridiculous is the dry-rot of all 
 that is high and noble in youth. Like a canker, it eats 
 away the finest qualities of their nature ; and there is no 
 limit to the sacrifices made to it. 
 
 Old Thomas Fuller tells us of writers and speakers in 
 
jests. 545 
 
 his day, two hundred years ago, who carefully cultivated 
 solemnity of manner, and u for fear their orations should 
 giggle, will not let them smile." Dr. Thomas Brown, of our 
 day, intimates that writers are wanting in seriousness. He 
 says: — "It is too much the way with all of us now-a-days 
 to be forever joking." The Christian Register remarks: 
 "It is said that the drawing up of the Declaration of In- 
 dependence would have been committed to Benjamin 
 Franklin if it had not been feared that he would ' put a 
 joke into it.'" Nothing less than the martyrdom of Abra 
 ham Lincoln could have saved his memory in certain quar- 
 ters from the taint of levity unbecoming his high position. 
 
 Washington seldom indulged in a joke or a sarcasm, 
 but when he did he always made a decided hit. During 
 the debate on the establishment of the Federal army, a 
 member of Congress offered a resolution, limiting it to 
 three thousand men ; to which Washington suggested an 
 amendment, providing that* no enemy should ever invade 
 the country with more than two thousand men. The laughter 
 which ensued smothered the resolution. 
 
 The Arabs have a saying, "It is not good to jest with 
 God, death, or the devil: for the first neither can nor 
 will be mocked; the second mocks all men one time or 
 another; and the third puts an eternal sarcasm on those 
 who are too familiar with him." 
 
 It is of great importance that we should resist the 
 temptation, frequently so strong, of annexing a familiar, 
 facetious, or irreverent idea to a Scriptural expression, a 
 Scripture text, or a Scripture name. Nor should we 
 hold ourselves guiltless, though we may have been misled 
 by mere negligence, or want of reflection. Every person 
 of good taste will avoid reading a parody, or a travestie 
 of a beautiful poem, because the recollection of the de- 
 graded likeness will always obtrude itself upon our 
 memories when we wish to derive pleasure from the con- 
 templation of the elegance of the original. But how 
 much more urgent is the duty by which we are bound to 
 keep the pages of the Bible clear of any impression tend- 
 ing to dimmish the blessings of habitual respect and rev- 
 erence towards our Maker's law. 
 
 35 
 
LOQUACITY. 
 
 A great talker is seldom a wise man. Weak men are 
 generally most loquacious, thinking to make up that in 
 number of words, which is wanting in weight. It is 
 with narrow-souled people as with narrow-necked bottles 
 — the less they have in them the more noise they make 
 in pouring it out. 
 
 He can never speak well that can never hold his 
 tongue. It is one thing to speak much, and another to 
 speak pertinently. Much talk and much judgment sel- 
 dom go together ; for talking and thinking are quite dif- 
 ferent faculties; and there is commonly more depth 
 where there is less noise. Boisterous people are like 
 shavings, they make a great fire, but don't last long. 
 
 As men of sense say a great deal in a few words, so 
 the half-witted have a talent of talking much, but of say- 
 ing nothing. Men are like wagons, they rattle most 
 when there is nothing in them. The deepest waters are 
 the most silent ; empty vessels make the greatest sound, 
 and tinkling cymbals the most music. They who think 
 least, commonly speak most. The smaller the calibre of 
 the mind, the greater the bore of a perpetually open 
 mouth. The less weight a race horse carries, the quicker 
 he runs; and the same holds good with the human 
 tongue ; the less weight the tongue carries the faster it 
 runs. 
 
 Words are like leaves ; and where they most abound, 
 Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found. 
 
 He that talks all he knows, will talk more than he 
 knows. Great talkers discharge too thick, to always 
 take true aim. It is a great deal better to say less than 
 half what you think, than to think only half what you say. 
 
 A great talker will always speak, though nobody minds 
 him; nor does he mind any body when they speak to 
 him. A talkative fellow wishing to learn of Isocrates, 
 he asked double price: because, said he, I must both 
 teach him to speak, and hold his tongue. Zeno, hearing 
 
 546 
 
BREVITY. 547 
 
 a young man speak too freely, told him, for this reason 
 we have two ears, and but one tongue, that we should 
 hear much, and speak little. Garrulous people are always 
 superficial. 
 
 If you think twice before you speak once, you will 
 speak twice as well for it. Speak little and to the pur- 
 pose, and you will pass for somebody. The man who 
 does most has the least time to talk about it. Some can- 
 not be too dumb ; an utterly unthinking person should 
 say only what he thinks. 
 
 Says Kossuth, "I beg you to take to heart one maxim, 
 which for myself I have ever observed, and ever shall — 
 it is, never to say more than is necessary. The unspoken 
 word never does harm ; what is once uttered can never 
 be recalled, and no man can forsee its consequences." 
 
 BREVITY. 
 
 Talk to the point, and stop when you have reached it. 
 The quality some possess of making one idea cover a 
 quire of paper, is not good for much. Be comprehensive 
 in all you have to say or write. To fill a volume upon 
 nothing is a credit to nobody ; though Lord Chesterfield 
 wrote a very clever poem upon Nothing. 
 
 There are men who get one idea into their heads, and 
 but one, and they make the most of it. You can see it, 
 and almost feel it when in their presence. On all occa- 
 sions it is produced till it is worn as thin as charity. 
 Short letters, sermons, speeches, and paragraphs, are favor- 
 ites with us. Commend us to the young man who wrote 
 to his father — "Dear Sir, I am going to be married;" and 
 also to the old gentleman, who replied, "Dear son, go 
 ahead." Such are the men for action. They do more 
 than they say. The half is not told in their ca^es. They 
 are worth their weight in gold for every purpose in life. 
 
 When a man has no design but to speak the truth, he 
 may say a great deal in a very narrow compass. If you 
 would be pungent, be brief, for it is with words as with 
 
548 BREVITY. 
 
 sun-beams — the more they are condensed, the deeper 
 they burn. Every body has heard of the famous letters 
 that passed between the adverse chiefs of Tir Connell and 
 Tyrone, the most laconic correspondence in history: — 
 
 " Pay me my tribute, or if you don't — 
 
 VConneU." 
 
 "I owe you no tribute, and if I did— 
 
 O'Md." 
 
 One of the finest specimens of laconic speech on record 
 is that of Rochejacquelin — -"If I advance, follow me; if I 
 fall, avenge me; if I flinch, kill me." The speech of the 
 ancient Grecians was usually short, and very significant; 
 when Philip, king of Macedonia, sent a threatening letter, 
 that if he entered into Laconia, he would overthrow 
 them: they wrote back to them only this word, If. 
 
 The value of things is not in their size ; and so of 
 reason, which, wrapped in a few words has the greater 
 weight. Press your thoughts, pack them, bring every- 
 thing to a focus. Give the pith, the cream, the marrow, 
 the essence, the fire. Avoid prefaces, circumlocutions, 
 say what you have to say — and stop, stop ! A tremen- 
 dous thought maybe packed into small compass — made 
 as solid as a cannon ball, and alike projectile, and cut 
 all down before it. Short articles are generally more 
 effective, find more readers, and are more widely copied 
 than long ones. Pack your thoughts closely together, 
 and though your articles may be brief, it will have 
 more weight and will be more likely to make an im- 
 pression. Ye who write for this busy age, speak quick; 
 use short sentences; never stop the reader with a long 
 or an ambiguous word; but let the stream of thought 
 flow right on, and men will drink it like water. 
 
 It is said of the three most influential members of 
 the Convention that formed the Constitution of the 
 United States, that, in all the debates of that body, 
 no one of them made a speech of more than twenty 
 minutes. We have good authority for stating that 
 Alexander Hamilton, though reckoned among the more 
 diffuse orators of his day, did not occupy more than 
 two hours and a half in his longest argument on the 
 trial of a cause, and his rival, Aaron Burr, not more than 
 
BREVITY. 549 
 
 an hour and a quarter. A judge who was intimately 
 acquainted with Burr and his practice, confirmed this 
 statement, adding that within his knowledge this advo- 
 cate repeatedly and successfully disposed of cases involv- 
 ing a large amount of property in half an hour. u Indeed," 
 said he, u on one occasion he talked to the jury seven min 
 utes in such a manner, that it took me, on the bench, 
 half an hour to straighten them out." He added, "I 
 once asked him, ' Col. Burr, why cannot lawyers always 
 save the time and spare the patience of the court and the 
 jury by dwelling only on the important points in their 
 cases ? ' to which Burr replied, ' Sir, you demand the 
 greatest faculty of the human mind, selection.'" He is 
 well known to have been one of the most effective advo- 
 cates in his time, and in this matter, if nothing else, he 
 deserves to be studied and imitated. We refer to a single 
 foreign example, an eminent English barrister. " I asked 
 Sir James Scarlett," says Buxton, "what was the secret 
 of his pre-eminent success as an advocate. He replied 
 that he took care to press home the one principal point 
 of the case, without much regard to the others. He also 
 said that he knew the secret of being short. 'I find,' 
 said he, ' that when I exceed half an hour, I am always 
 doing mischief to my client. If I drive into the heads 
 of the jury important matter, I drive out matter more 
 important that I had previously lodged there.'" We 
 commend his method, and his reason for it, not only to 
 ministers, but quite as urgently to lawyers and members 
 of Congress. Will not some of those third and fourth- 
 rate speakers of any sort, who, in these days plume them- 
 selves on a speech of three or even six hours, be obliging 
 enough to "inwardly digest" this? 
 
 We give one more example of brevity: "A lady on one 
 occasion entered Abernethy's consulting-room, and put 
 before him an injured finger, without saying a word. In 
 silence Abernethy dressed the wound, when instantly 
 and silently the lady put the usual fee on the table, and 
 retired. In a few days she called again, and offered the 
 finger for inspection. 'Better?' asked the surgeon. 
 4 Better ' ' answered the lady, speaking to him for the first 
 
550 SILENCE. 
 
 time. Not another word followed during the rest of the 
 interview. Three or four similar visits were made, at the 
 last of which the patient held out her finger free from 
 bandages and perfectly healed. ' Well? ' was Abernethy's 
 monosylabic inquiry. 4 Well ! ' was the lady's equally 
 brief answer. ' Upon my soul, madam,' exclaimed the 
 delighted surgeon, ' you are the most rational woman I 
 ever met with ! ' " 
 
 SILENCE. 
 
 Says the Greek proverb, "speech is silver, silence is 
 gold." It is a remarkable and very instructive fact, that 
 many of the most important operations of nature are 
 carried on in unbroken silence. There is no rushing 
 sound when the broad tide of sunlight breaks on a dark 
 world and floods it with glory, as one bright wave after 
 another falls from the mountain, millions of miles away. 
 There is no creaking of heavy axles or groaning of cum- 
 brous machinery, as the solid earth wheels on its way, 
 and every planet and system performs its revolutions. 
 The great trees bring forth their boughs and shelter the 
 earth beneath them — the plants cover themselves with 
 buds, and the buds burst into flowers, but the whole trans- 
 formation is unheard. The change from snow and winter 
 winds to the blossoms and fruits and sunshine of summer, 
 is seen in its slow development, but there is scarcely a 
 sound to tell of the mighty transformation. The solemn 
 chant of the ocean, as it raises its unchanged and unceas- 
 ing voice, the roar of the hurricane, and the soft notes of 
 the breeze, the rushing of the mountain river, and the 
 thunder of the black-browed storm ; all this is the music 
 of nature — a great and swelling anthem of praise, break- 
 ing on the universal calm. There is a lesson for us here. 
 The mightiest worker in the universe is the most unob- 
 trusive. 
 
 The deepest waters move most silently ; the hottest 
 fires have the smallest flames ; and the swiftest spheres 
 that have the swiftest motion, move without noise. 
 
SILENCE. 551 
 
 The grandest operations, both in nature and in grace, 
 axe the most silent and imperceptible. The greatest 
 changes in the face of nature, and in the condition of man- 
 kind, often take place the most imperceptible and quietly. 
 In our best moods God's works command us to silence. 
 The mountain awes us by its majestic presence. On the 
 shores of the sea, we commune silently with its greatness. 
 In the pathless woods, the rustle of the leaves only makes 
 us feel alone with God. A beautiful landscape, like a paint- 
 ing, must be gazed at in silence, in order to appreciate 
 the beauty and greatness of the infinite Artist. The 
 same effect is produced by the presence of great men, in 
 genius, in learning in holiness. A man of silent power, 
 who tells us not all he thinks and feels, attracts us 
 himself. The Bible is a power, partly because of its 
 silence on points upon which human curiosity would 
 gladly have it speak. Heaven and hell have more power 
 over us because we know not all their bliss and woe. 
 Not the least impressive scenes of Christ before his ene- 
 mies were those when he answered them not a word. 
 Perhaps no period in the history of heaven will exceed 
 in interest the thirty minutes' silence, when the angels 
 folded their wings, the harps are still, the songs cease, 
 and the hum of children dies away. In the depths of 
 the sea the waters are still; the heaviest grief is that 
 borne in silence ; the deepest love flows through the 
 eye and touch; the purest joy is unspeakable; the most 
 impressive prayer is silent prayer ; and the most 
 solemn preacher at a funeral is the silent one, whose lips 
 are cold. 
 
 It is a great art in the Christian life to learn to be 
 silent. Under oppositions, rebukes, injuries, still be 
 silent. It is better to say nothing, than to say it in an 
 excited or angry manner, even if the occasion should 
 seem to justify a degree of anger. 
 
 It is often easier to do than to suffer the will of God. 
 There is a pleasurable excitement in the employment of 
 one's active powers in the service of Christ, a satisfaction 
 in the consciousness of doing good. A little grace, with 
 favoring Providence, may make a Christian hero ; while 
 
552 SILENCE. 
 
 abounding grace alone will suffice to make a Christian 
 martyr. 
 
 Be still when persecuted or slandered. If unjustly ac- 
 cused, you may regard every epithet of abuse as a badge 
 of discipleship. Your divine Master and his apostles and 
 witnesses were marked in the same way. Then, too, 
 every lie has the seeds of death within it. Let it alone, 
 it will die of itself. Opposition may look very formid- 
 able; it may seem as "though the mountains were carried 
 into the midst of the sea ; the waters whereof roar, and 
 be troubled; the mountains shake with the swelling 
 thereof; " but the voice of wisdom cries, u Be still, and 
 know that I am God." 
 
 Be still when thwarted in your plans and disappointed 
 in your hopes. You are not responsible for results. If 
 you have sought trustworthy ends by lawful means, and 
 have done your utmost to attain them, the issue is of Di- 
 vine ordering, and should be no more the subject of 
 murmuring or repining than the changes of the seasons 
 or the rolling of the spheres. The purpose of God in 
 your loss or disappointment may not be obvious. You 
 may have to content yourself with the thought, "These 
 are but parts of his ways." But the fact that they are 
 his ways, must hush the soul in quietude under the most 
 trying and mysterious crosses of life. Faith will take 
 Cowper's song : 
 
 " Behind a frowning Providence, 
 He hides a smiling face." 
 
 Be still under sore afflictions. They are all deserved. 
 They are all ordered of God. They are embraced among 
 the "all things" that shall work together for good to 
 them who love God. Murmuring does not lessen, but 
 rather increases the burden of griefs. Submitted to — 
 acquiesced in — sanctified — every sorrow may distil new 
 joys ; every affliction may work out " a far more exceed- 
 ing and eternal weight of glory." Many a saint has 
 never experienced the infinite preciousness of the Gospel, 
 till the rod of God is upon him. It is when in the vale, 
 with eyes uplifted and the mouth closed — "I was dumb" 
 - — that the stars of promise glisten in the spiritual vision 
 
SILENCE. 553 
 
 and the Sun of righteousness darts his rays of comfort 
 and holy joy on the stricken soul. 
 
 It requires but little observation to show that if speech 
 is human, silence is divine. The weaker the intellect the 
 more babbling and immediate the talk. It is as the mind 
 matures that the tongue hesitates to speak — and God, 
 who is the consummation of wisdom, is also the consum- 
 mation of patience. He keeps silence lor years under 
 provocations whose immensity we cannot tell, for we can 
 never draw a comparison between man's littleness and 
 God's greatness. If we could acquire a little # of this 
 grandest of qualities, silence, how could we add dignity 
 to our profession! — The rule of the stoic in this respect 
 ought to be the rule of the Christian, but with this differ- 
 ence in result, that stoical silence freezes by its selfishness, 
 where Christian silence melts by its love. 
 
 The art of silence, if it be not one of the fine, is cer- 
 tainly one of the useful arts. It is an art attained by 
 few. How seldom do we meet with a man who speaks 
 only when he ought to speak, and says only what he 
 ought to say! That the Bible enjoins its attainment is 
 most manifest. It commands us to make a door and a 
 bar for the mouth. It declares that if a man bridleth not 
 his tongue, his religion is vain. The attainment of this 
 art will enable us to avoid saying foolish things. We 
 often speak without reflection, and of consequence foolish 
 thoughts, or expressions destitute of thought are uttered. 
 Possessed of the art of silence, we shall not speak that 
 which ought not to be spoken. Again it will enable us 
 to avoid saying hurtful things. Since we are placed in 
 the world to do good, and since the endowment of speech 
 is one of our greatest means of influence, it is most un- 
 seemly for us to utter that which shall do injury. He 
 whose business it is to root out the tares, should not 
 scatter their seed. It will enable us to govern our feel- 
 ings and direct our trains of thought. He who gives ex- 
 pression to his feelings increases their strength. He 
 who gives expression to anger, for example, increases its 
 power over him. He who gives utterance to improper 
 thoughts, will increase their number. It will increase 
 
554 SILENCE. 
 
 our influence with our fellow-men. U A fool uttereth all 
 his mind, but a wise man keepeth it until afterwards." 
 Gravity and reserve are associated with wisdom. Even 
 an affected gravity is sometimes effective, — the true art 
 of silence, ever. We can be useful only as we are influ- 
 ential. Finally, it will enable us to follow the example 
 of Christ. He was ever affable and ready to communi- 
 cate instruction, but no useless utterances escaped his 
 lips. Let us labor to attain this art, that our speech may 
 always be with grace. 
 
 What a strange power there is in silence! How many 
 resolutions are formed — how many sublime conquests are 
 effected during that pause when the lips are closed, and 
 the soul secretly feels the eye of its Maker upon it! 
 When some of those cutting, sharp, blighting words have 
 been spoken which send the hot indignant blood to the 
 face and head, if those to whom they are addressed keep 
 silence, look on with awe ; for a mighty work is going on 
 within them, and the spirit of evil, or their guardian 
 angel, is very near them in that hour. During that pause 
 they have made a step towards heaven or hell ; an item 
 has been scored in the book which the day of judgment 
 shall see opened. They are strong ones of earth, the 
 mighty for good or evil, those who know how to keep 
 silence when it is a pain and grief to them ; those who 
 give time to their own souls to wax strong against temp- 
 tation, or to the powers of wrath to stamp upon them 
 their withering passage. 
 
 There are three kinds of silence; the silence of peace 
 and joy, the silence of submission and resignation, and 
 the silence of desolation and despair. Lovely are they 
 whose delight is in the first; and most wretched and 
 miserable are those who are driven to the last. 
 
 A good word is an easy obligation, but not to speak ill 
 requires only silence, which costs us nothing. He that 
 knows not when to be silent, knows not when to speak. 
 Listen, if you would learn ; be silent if you would be 
 safe. Silence is the safest response for all the contra- 
 diction that arises from impertinence, vulgarity, or envy. 
 
 One of the best ways for people to contribute to the 
 
SILENCE. 555* 
 
 peace of the world is to hold theirs. Many have suffered 
 by talking, but few by silence. Confine your tongue, 
 lest it oonfine you. A word unspoken is like the sword 
 in the scabbard — thine; if vented, thy sword is in 
 another's hand. 
 
 Says Demosthones, U A wise man speaks but sparingly." 
 There is brevity and abrupt precision in Dante. One 
 smiting word, and then there is silence — nothing more 
 said. His silence is more elequent than words. Solomon 
 says, "Whoso keepeth his mouth and his tongue, keepeth 
 his soul from troubles." 
 
 Says Gracian, u To be reserved in speaking, is the seal 
 of the capacity." Silence is sometimes more significant 
 than the most noble and most expressive eloquence, and 
 is on many occasions the indication of a great mind. 
 
 Says Sir Walter Raleigh, "No one can take less pains 
 than to hold his tongue." Hear much, and speak little; 
 for the tongue is the instrument of the greatest good and 
 the greatest evil, that is done in the world. A prudent 
 man desires as much to inform himself, as to instruct 
 others. 
 
 In the company of strangers, silence is safe. Silence 
 is the protection of the ignorant. Silence is wisdom, 
 and gets a man friends. 
 
 Those men talk most who are in the greatest mental 
 darkness — frogs cease their croaking when a light is 
 brought to the water-side. The chameleon, who is said 
 to feed upon nothing but air, has of all animals the nim- 
 blest tongue. 
 
 Men should remember that sometimes the greatest 
 sound has the less sense ; as, though four is more than 
 three, a third is more than a fourth. Many men are very 
 entertaining at a first interview, but then they are ex- 
 hausted; at a second meeting we find them flat .and mo- 
 notonous. Like hand-organs we have heard all their 
 tunes, and, unlike those instruments, they are not readily 
 new-barreled. 
 
 Wear your learning like your watch, in a private 
 pocket, and don't pull it out to show that you have one; 
 but if you are asked what o'clock it is, tell it. 
 
$56 SOLITUDE. 
 
 Talkative men seldom read. This is among the few 
 truths which appear the more strange the more we reflect 
 upon them. For what is reading but silent conversation? 
 
 Loquacious mouths are like badly-managed banks. 
 They make large issues on no solid capital. Talkers may 
 sow, but the silent reap. 
 
 Men are born with two eyes, but with one tongue, in 
 order that they should see twice as much as they say. 
 The same is also applicable to women and boys. If itch- 
 ing ears are bad, itching tongues are worse. 
 
 It is never more difficult to speak well than when we 
 are getting ashamed of our silence. 
 
 Some say that hurt never comes by silence ; but they 
 may as well say that good never comes by speech ; for 
 where it is good to speak it is harm to be silent. 
 
 The ear and the eye are the mind's receivers, but the 
 tongue is only busy in expending the treasure received. 
 If, therefore, the revenues of the mind be uttered as fast 
 or faster than they are received, it must needs be bare, 
 and can never lay up for purchase. But if the receivers 
 take in still without utterance, the mind may soon grow 
 a burden to itself, and unprofitable to others. I will not 
 lay up too much and utter nothing, lest I be covetous ; 
 nor spend much and store up little, lest I be prodigal 
 and poor. 
 
 The silence of a person who loves to praise is a cen- 
 sure sufficiently severe. 
 
 SOLITUDE. 
 
 It is interesting to notice, in the Scripture biographies, 
 what part solitude has in the formation of character. 
 Abraham goes forth from his home and dwells in a strange 
 land, a pilgrim and a sojourner. Thus his faith grew by 
 living alone with God and he became the father of all 
 them that believe. Jacob pursues a lonely journey on 
 foot, and sleeps in the field all night; heaven is opened 
 to him, and he vows a vow which, with the vision, deck* -^s 
 
SOLITUDE- 55T 
 
 his whole future life. Moses is a shv pherd ; he leads his 
 flock to the backside of the desert, and there he comes 
 to Horeb, and sees the burning bush, and by his solitary 
 meditations and communions with God, is prepared for 
 his eventful work. 'Elijah was the son of the desert. 
 David had great experience of caves, and dens, and holes 
 in the rock. David's son, and David's Lord must be 
 driven into the wilderness, and be with the wild beasts 
 before he can preach. Four, at least, of the apostles 
 were taken from the solitary and contemplative employ- 
 ment of fishers; and John the Baptist lived in the wilds 
 of Judea, on the locust and wild honey, covered only 
 with the shaggy cloth of camel's hair, so different from 
 any fabric known to us by that name, his waist girded by 
 no belt from Tyre, or scarf from Persia, but with a leath- 
 ern thong. There, in those wilds, from the commence- 
 ment of his youth till near the age of thirty, his parents, 
 who were well stricken in years before he was born, being 
 in all probability dead, he lived apart from the busy 
 paths of men, not perhaps, as a hermit, for there were 
 scattered dwellings in the wilderness. He was, however, 
 conversant with the rough face of nature, in her tangled 
 thickets, dark, pathless woods, overhanging cliffs, swollen 
 streams, diversified, all with spring tide beauty, and sum- 
 mer's glory, and autumn's melancholy, and winter's rage ; 
 his courage nurtured by darkness and storms, perhaps by 
 conflicts with wild beasts, and by solemn awe with which 
 solitude and stillness sometimes oppress even the bravest 
 spirit. 
 
 A certain degree of solitude seems necessary to the 
 full growth and spread of the highest mind ; and, there- 
 fore, must a very extensive intercourse with men stifle 
 many a holy germ, and scare away u the gods," who shun 
 the ruthless tumult of noisy companies and the discussion 
 of petty interests. 
 
 Unthinking heads, who have not learned to be alone, 
 are in a prison to themselves, if they are not also with 
 others; whereas, on the contrary, those whose thoughts 
 are in a fair and hurry within, are sometimes fain to retire 
 into company to be out of a crowd themselves. He 
 
558 SOLITUDE. 
 
 who must needs have company, must sometimes have 
 bad company. Be -able to be alone ; lose not the advan- 
 tage of solitude and the society of thyself, nor be only 
 content, but delight to be alone and single with Omnip- 
 otency. Unto him who is thus prepared, the day is not 
 uneasy, nor the night black. Darkness may bound his 
 eyes, not his imagination. In his bed he may lie, like 
 Pompey and his sons, in all quarters of the earth; may 
 speculate the universe, and enjoy the whole world in the 
 hermitage of himself. 
 
 Solitude is the despair of fools, the torment of the 
 wicked, and the joy of the good. It is alike pandemonium, 
 purgatory, and paradise — according to the soul that 
 enters it. 
 
 As in the silence of the night, the ear catches the least 
 sound; so, in the solitude of reflection, the mind detects 
 soft and delicate strains of thought, unheard in the bustle 
 of a crowd. 
 
 Solitude is necessary in the moments when grief is 
 strongest and thought most troubled. 
 
 Conversation enriches the understanding, but solitude 
 is the school of genius. The world makes us talkers, but 
 solitude makes us thinkers. Solitude shows us what we 
 should be; society shows us what we are. 
 
 Solitude is one of the highest enjoyments of which our 
 nature is susceptible. Solitude is also, when too long 
 continued, capable of being made the most severe, inde- 
 scribable, unendurable source of anguish. 
 
 If a man shuts himself up from society because he is 
 afraid that its contact will contaminate him, society loses 
 nothing by his withdrawal. 
 
 A man should neither be a hermit nor a buffoon ; hu- 
 man nature is not so miserable, as that we should be 
 always melancholy ; nor so happy, as that we should be 
 always merry. In a word, a man should not live as if 
 there was no God in the world; nor, at the same time, 
 -as if there were no men in it. 
 
i FEW HINTS TO WRITERS. 
 
 That -writer does the most, who gives his readers the 
 most knowledge, and takes from him the least time. Sid- 
 ney Smith once remarked, "After you have written an 
 article, take your pen and strike out half of the words, 
 and you will be surprised to see how much stronger it is." 
 In literature, our taste will be discovered by that which 
 we give, and our judgment by that which we withhold. 
 If you wish an idea to expand, do not let the whole pro- 
 cess take place in your own writing or conversation; 
 leave part of it for the mind of your hearer or reader. 
 
 There is nothing so fascinating as simplicity and earn- 
 estness. A writer who has an object and goes right on 
 to accomplish it, will compel the attention of his readers. 
 Montaigne, the celebrated French essayist, whose clear 
 style, as well as vigor of thought, has been the praise of 
 good critics the world over, made his boast that he never 
 used a word that could not be readily understood by any- 
 body in the Paris markets. Plain words are ever the 
 best. Says Fitz Greene Halleck: U A letter fell into my 
 hands which a Scotch servant girl had written to her 
 Lover. Its style charmed me. It was fairly inimitable* 
 I wondered how, in her circumstances in life, she could 
 have acquired so elegant and perfect a style. I showed 
 the letter to some of my literary friends in New York, 
 and they unanimously agreed that it was a model of 
 beauty and elegance. I- then determined to solve the 
 mystery, and I went to the house where she was employed, 
 and asked her how it was that in her simple circum- 
 stances in life she had acquired a style so beautiful that 
 the most cultivated minds could but admire it." "Sir," 
 she said, "I came to this country four years ago. Then 
 I did not know how to read or write. But since then I 
 have learned how to read and write, but I have not 
 learned how to spell ; so always, when I sit down to write 
 a letter, I choose those words which are so short and 
 simple that I am sure I know how to spell them." There 
 
 559 
 
560 A FEW HINTS TO WRITERS. 
 
 was the whole secret. The reply of this simple-minded 
 Scotch girl condenses a world of rhetoric into a nut-shell. 
 Simplicity is beauty.' Simplicity is power. 
 
 William Hazlitt said: "I hate everything that occupies 
 more space than it is worth ; ergo, I hate to see a load of 
 bandboxes in the street, and I hate to see a parcel of big 
 words without anything in them." Big words are great 
 favorites with people of small ideas and weak concep- 
 tions. They are also sometimes employed by men of 
 mind, when they wish to use language that may best con- 
 ceal their thoughts. With few exceptions, however, illit- 
 erate and half-educated persons use more "big words" 
 than people of thorough education. It is a very common, 
 but very egregious mistake, to suppose the long words 
 are more genteel than the short ones — just as the same 
 sort of people imagine higher colors and flashy figures 
 improve the style of dress. These are the kind of folks 
 who don't begin, but always "commence." They don't 
 go to bed, but mysteriously "retire." They don't eat and 
 drink, but "partake of refreshments." They are never 
 sick, but "extremely indisposed;" and instead of dying, 
 at last, they "decease." The strength of the English 
 language is in the short words — chiefly monosyllables of 
 Saxon derivation ; and people who are in earnest seldom 
 use any other. Love, hate, anger, grief, joy, express 
 themselves in short words and direct sentences ; while 
 cunning, falsehood, and affectation delight in what Horace 
 calls "verba sesquipedatia" — words "afoot and a half long." 
 
 The literature in which bad spelling is a substitute for 
 humor has greatly injured the language. In this, Thack- 
 eray and Professor Lowell, both highly educated men, 
 have much to answer for. It is possible to write in a 
 familiar manner without running into vulgarity, and we 
 should be glad to see our young writers aim at the per- 
 spicuous expression, and eschew the abomination, so full 
 of pretence of "fine writing" — for nothing is harder 
 reading. A man cannot put his thoughts, if he have any, 
 into language too plain. Good writing, like good speak- 
 ing, consists in simplicity and force of diction, and not 
 in inflated, curiously balanced, or elaborately constructed 
 
A FEW HINTS TO WRITERS. 561 
 
 sentences. The best writing is bnt a degree above the 
 best conversation — and that, only because the writer has 
 a little more time to select his words than the speaker has. 
 
 All dimness, doubt, darkness, in the handling of a 
 subject is an essential fault. An old writer has well said, 
 "Better the grammarian should reprehend, than the 
 people not understand. Pithy plainness is the beauty of 
 speaking or writing. What good doth a golden key that 
 opens not? "I have no objections to a lady's winding a 
 sword with ribbons, and studding it with roses," said 
 Robert Hall, u when she presents it to her hero lover; 
 but in the day of battle he will tear away the ornaments, 
 and use the naked edge to the enemy." 
 
 It should never be forgotten that the sole use of words 
 and sentences is to convey thought and impression. 
 Hence words and sentences should not be seen. The 
 highest art in the use of language is to conceal itself. 
 The old maxim is in place: u ars est celare artem" — u art 
 is in concealing art." The perfection of a window pane 
 is in concealing itself; so that as you look through it 
 upon the objects beyond you do not see it; are not con- 
 scious that it is there. The more it is invisible the more 
 perfect it is. Of language it should be so simple and con- 
 cise, so transparently clear, that the mind of the hearer or 
 reader goes right through to the thought beyond, the at- 
 tention not being called to the language or style at all. 
 
 Obscurity in writing is commonly an argument of dark- 
 ness in the mind. The greatest learning is to be seen in 
 the greatest plainness. Obscure writers, like turbed 
 streams, seem deeper than they are. Unintelligible lan- 
 guage is a lantern without a light. Some authors write 
 nonsense in a clear style, and others sense in an obscure 
 one ; some can reason without being able to persuade, 
 others can persuade without being able to reason. 
 
 As 'tis a greater mystery in the art 
 Of painting, to foreshorten any part, 
 Than draw it out ; so 'tis in books the chief 
 Of all perfections to be plain and brief. 
 
 Samuel Butler. 
 
 In general, people talk far better than they write. It 
 would make many a man a reputation if he could give to 
 
562 A FEW HINTS TO WRITERS. 
 
 his pen the unconscious grace, freshness, and pictorial 
 power which his tongue possesses. Nothing sooner takes 
 the temper out of a composition than the fore-conscious- 
 ness of u what people will think!" One should write to 
 himself alone, and should be his own severest critic, and 
 his own Macsenas. This may not make a good writer out 
 of a poor one, but will make a good one better. 
 
 No trade is learned and no science is mastered until 
 one can ply them involuntarily. All solid acquisition 
 begins in hard work and ends in play. Nothing is mas- 
 tered until it can be given off spontaneously. Ripe fruit 
 drops easily. Off-hand speaking is the very best and the 
 very worst. This is one reason why letters are so much 
 more readable than essays. Men say what they please in 
 letters, in the freest expressions, and so they hit things 
 off with a felicity which is denied to them in studied 
 speech. But the day of letters is passing away. The 
 printing press is now what the pen was a hundred years 
 ago. Men think out loud. They print their privacy. 
 What few crumbs are left, reporters pick up. 
 
 The difference between the style of one who always 
 writes but never speaks, and one who always speaks but 
 never writes, is very great. The first is more smooth 
 and polished, the second more concise and forcible. The 
 one lacks power, the other beauty. Speaking generally, 
 the two qualities of grace and strength can only be ac- 
 quired by practice both in writing and speaking. The 
 two must mutually correct each other; and any system 
 of education which neglects or ignores either of them is 
 faulty. The great leading distinction between writing 
 and speaking is, that more time is allowed for the one 
 than the other ; hence, different faculties are required for, 
 and different objects obtained by each. He is properly 
 the best speaker who can collect together the greatest 
 number of apposite ideas at a moment's warning; he is 
 properly the best writer who can give utterance to the 
 greatest quantity of valuable knowledge in the whole 
 course of his life. 
 
 Few young people are aware of the advantages derived 
 from writing. It gives a refinement and polish to the 
 
a few Eiyis :: write.?, s : 1 1 
 
 mind, an accuracy and form to thought, in which the 
 manners and character of the individual can but partici- 
 pate. The niind of every person is pregnant with ideas. 
 These, uncultivated, are but a jumbled and conf used 
 mass, of little benefit to the possessor, and certainly none 
 to others. Bn: give :::em shape, culture and expression, 
 and a soul gleams through them to influence all within 
 
 diance. Ideas produce ideas, and their cultivation 
 
 a nobleness to mind. When we commit our thoughts 
 to paper, even in letters to our most intimate friends, we 
 
 ys endeavor to express them in as clear, concise, and 
 elegant a manner as possible. Much as we may use 
 absurd and unrefined terms in our conversation, we dis- 
 :hem in writing. To write well, we must 
 think well ; and thinking well naturally engenders acting 
 well. Tiie more w^ write, the more natural, easy, and 
 impressive will be our language. The more we think, 
 the more truthfulness and wisdom will our thoughts con- 
 tain. But these are not all of the a dvantasres of writing. 
 deasore Mid a pastime which will fill up ad- 
 mirably n vacant hour. It diverts and relaxes the 
 mind from the more engrossing cares and concerns of 
 life; enabling: tc regain its natural :one and vi^or with- 
 out engendering a distaste for the usefulness of labor, or 
 
 sing the moral principles. It tarns the mind in upon 
 itself, strengthening and fortifying it against the vicissi- 
 tudes :: fortune. It enables us to read with a deeper 
 interest the writings of others; and as we draw compar- 
 isons between their ideas and our own, diverging from 
 the original track, they assume new embodiment from 
 which we tabled to di aw : i reel n '.. decisive con- 
 
 clusions. TVe look around us with a feeling of new life 
 and buoyancy :: spirit, as if each part of inanim^r 
 tion had snddenlv been endowed with a language of its 
 own. As if by ach of mag::, it gives a beauty, 
 
 and a sublimity to the most : ommon-pla : e events. 
 
 It has been well said, that he whe :s well employed in 
 his study, though he may seem tc dc nothing, does more 
 than all others. He lays clew:: precepts for the govern- 
 ing of our lives, and the mc derating oi our passions, and 
 
564 A FEW HINTS TO WBITERS. 
 
 obliges human nature, not only in the present, but in all 
 succeeding generations. 
 
 Many a man's destiny has been made or marred for 
 time and for eternity, by the influence which a single sen- 
 timent has made on his mind, by its forming his character 
 for life, making it terribly true that moments sometimes 
 fix the coloring of our whole subsequent existence. 
 Hence those who write for the public should do so under 
 a deep sense of responsibility, and endeavor to do it in 
 that healthful and equable state of mind and body which 
 favors a clear, un exaggerated and logical expression of 
 ideas. If men wrote nothing for print until after forty, 
 the world would be happier and better, for age and a 
 more extensive and accurate observation cause many a 
 change of sentiment in later life. 
 
 No one should write when very hungry, or immediately 
 after eating, nor under the influence of any unnatural 
 stimulant, nor while in a passion; else in the latter case, 
 he will most certainly make a fool of himself. Those 
 who write under a depression of spirits will always write 
 nonsense or untrue things. Those who write a great 
 deal late at night will lose their health or die prema- 
 turely. The best time for writing .with freshness, vigor 
 and logical truthfulness is in the mornir*g, when the brain 
 has been recuperated and renovated by the natural stim- 
 ulus of healthful sleep, before its force has been expended 
 or divided on the common affairs of life. No man ought 
 to write over four hours in twenty -four, and not over one 
 hour at a sitting ; even oftener, it would be better to 
 walk a few minutes, indoor or out, to rest the brain ; but 
 always write when the mind takes hold of the subject, 
 when the spirit is on you, be it day or night. When the 
 mind is inspired, beautiful thoughts glide into his vision, 
 like stars into the field of the telescope. The way to 
 speak and write what shall not go out of fashion, is to 
 speak and write sincerely. 
 
 Take time for thinking, never work in haste ; 
 And value not yourself for writing fast. 
 
 Dele should be the motto of your inkstand. We read 
 that the most distinguished men in all parts of literature 
 
A FEW HINTS TO WRITERS. 565 
 
 did this, even those (such as Moore, the song- writer) who, 
 we would suppose, wrote with the utmost facility. Gib- 
 bon, speaking of his great history, says: "Three times 
 did I compose the first chapter, and twice the second and 
 third, before I was tolerably satisfied with their effect." 
 Pascal re-wrote one of his "Provincial Letters" eighteen 
 times. Of Ariosto, Leigh Hunt records: "He was per- 
 petually altering his verses. His MSS. are full of cor- 
 rections. He wrote the exordium of the Orlando over 
 and over again." 
 
 Full success in life comes only by hard and steady 
 work. This is true of business men, and of professional 
 men, and of brilliant authors. Dickens wrote much and 
 easily, but no author was ever more painstaking than he. 
 Dickens took great pains in his expression, writing down 
 a thought in many different forms oftentimes, before it 
 would suit his fastidious taste. Those who have seen the 
 original manuscripts of his works, many of which he had 
 bound and kept at his residence at Gad's Hill, describe 
 them as full of interlineations and alterations; while it is 
 well known that the quaint surnames of his characters 
 were the result of much painstaking. It is said that 
 when he saw a strange or odd name on a shop-board, or 
 in walking through a village or country town, he entered 
 it in his pocket-book, and added it to his reserve list. 
 Then when he wanted a striking surname for a new char- 
 acter, he had but to take the first half of one real name 
 and add it to the second half of another, to procure the 
 exact effect upon the eye and ear of the reader he desired. 
 
 There is scarcely a case on record where there existed 
 a greater antagonism between an author and his pen than 
 in the case of Sir William Hamilton. In reading his 
 pure and limpid language, it is hard to realize that he 
 was not a ready writer. But while he occupied the chair 
 of logic and metaphysics in the University of Edinburg, 
 and every day delivering from it those lectures on meta- 
 physical science which have made him famous through- 
 out the world, he could never take his pen at any time 
 and write a certain required amount. Indeed, he always 
 took up his pen with extreme reluctance. Owing to this 
 
566 A FEW HINTS TO WRITERS. 
 
 aversion to composition, he was often compelled to sit up 
 all night in order to prepare the lecture which was the 
 wonder and admiration of every person who heard it the 
 next day. This lecture he wrote roughly and rapidly, 
 and it was copied and corrected by his wife in the next 
 room. Sometimes it was not finished till nine o'clock in 
 the morning, and the weary wife had fallen asleep, only 
 to be wakeful and ready, however, when he appeared 
 with fresh copy. The writer's labor makes the reader's 
 ease. 
 
 Alexander Hamilton once said to an intimate friend 
 "Men give me some credit for genius. All the genius I 
 have lies just in this : When I have a subject in hand, I 
 study it profoundly. Day and night it is before me. I 
 explore it in all its bearings. My mind becomes per- 
 vaded with it. Then the effort which I make the people 
 are pleased to call the fruit of genius. It is the fruit of 
 labor and thought." 
 
 Mr. Webster once replied to a gentleman who pressed 
 him to speak on a subject of great importance: u The 
 subject interests me deeply, but I have not time. There, 
 sir," pointing to a huge pile of letters on the table, u is a 
 pile of unanswered letters to which I must reply before 
 the close of this session, (which was then three days off. ) 
 I have no time to master the subject so as to do it jus- 
 tice." u But, Mr. Webster, a few words from you would 
 do much to awaken public attention to it." " If there is 
 so much weight in my words as you represent, it is be- 
 cause I do not allow myself to speak on any subject until 
 my mind is imbued with it." 
 
 The writer who uses weak arguments and strong 
 epithets, makes quite as great a mistake as the landlady 
 who furnished her guests with weak tea and strong butter. 
 More people commit suicide with the pen than with the 
 pistol, the dagger, and the rope. A pin has as much 
 head as a good many authors, and a great deal more 
 point. Good aims do not always make good books. 
 Well-tempered spades turn up ill-smelling sods. He who 
 writes what is wrong, wrongs what is right. What is 
 written to order generally shows the order. Some great 
 
WRITING FOR NEWSPAPERS. 567 
 
 master of polished composition has prescribed that a 
 book should be kept in the hands of the writer for nine 
 years. 
 
 You may correct what in your closet lies ; 
 If published, it irrevocably flies. 
 
 The popular man or writer is always the one who is 
 but little in advance of the masses, never the man who 
 is far in advance of them and out of their sight. Would 
 a writer know how to behave himself with relation to 
 posterity, let him consider in old books what he finds 
 that he is glad to know, and what omission he most la- 
 ments. 
 
 It is said that not one book in twenty is a decided suc- 
 cess, not one in a hundred a great success. That is a for- 
 tunate book which sells five thousand copies, very fortu- 
 nate which reaches twenty thousand. Nine out of ten 
 new books published in this country fail to sell two thou- 
 sand copies. The dead races of mankind scarcely out- 
 number the existing generation more prodigiously than 
 the books that have perished exceed those that remain 
 to us. 
 
 WRITING FOR NEWSPAPERS. 
 
 This is a distinct and difficult art. Its principles must 
 be somewhat studied by those who would succeed in it. 
 The disregard of these principles is the cause of the prosi- 
 ness which characterizes so much of our newspaper 
 literature. The newspaper is not a thing to be studied 
 — scarcely one to be read. It is one to be glanced over. 
 The articles then must be so written, as to attract and 
 hold attention. Processes of thought and reason are to 
 be shut out ; results only are to appear. Argument is to 
 be suggested, rather than stated. Usually one point is 
 enough for an article. Some single nail should be struck 
 fair upon the head, and then left at once. Introductions 
 are a nuisance. Inferences are always skipped. The 
 sentences should be short. Every word should leap with 
 life. Condensation should be extreme. Subordinate 
 
568 WRITING FOR NEWSPAPERS. 
 
 thoughts should be thrown away. The object is, not to 
 treat a subject in full, but to produce a certain effect. 
 All that is not necessary to the effect, should be discarded. 
 He who has the nerve to do this, with a soul that fires 
 with a great thought, and the manliness to utter it freely, 
 may wield a power with the pen which no sceptre can 
 rival. The tendencies in professional life are to deterior- 
 ation of style. The constant didactism of the pulpit 
 often degenerates into diffuseness. The reiteration of 
 points at the bar, and the precision of legal style, tend 
 to produce dryness and repetition. In no way can the 
 professional man more effectually make his words instinct 
 with life and power than by weekly practice in the columns 
 of a newspaper. 
 
 As a general rule, short pieces are best liked. A gen 
 tleman in a bank once told us, when we asked him to 
 subscribe for a certain Quarterly Review: — "Read a re- 
 view ! why, I never read anything longer than a telegraph 
 despatch ! But I will take it, and send it to my brother, 
 who is a minister in the country." The public like short 
 articles, when it is a condensation. This introduces a 
 second idea. An article to be printed should absolutely 
 have something in it. If professed argument, it should 
 be conclusive ; if pathetic, it should moisten the eyes ; 
 if an anecdote, it should have a sharp point; if phi- 
 losophy, it should go to the primitive rock; if practical, 
 it should go like an arrow to its work; if spiritual, it 
 should awe the soul that reads it. A good newspaper 
 style is not as easy as it seems. Its Scylla lies on the 
 side of attempting a popular manner, and succeeding in 
 being more familiar than a man ought to be at his own ta- 
 ble, or degenerating into slang, or becoming very childish. 
 Its Charybdis yawns for those who, shunning Scylla, are 
 determined to have real thought, pith and value in their 
 writing, and so become too learned, or profound, or im- 
 aginative, or philosophical, for any but scholars or culti- 
 vated people. 
 
 The rule regarding talk, "When you have nothing to 
 say, say it," applies equally to writing. When you really 
 have something to write about, do not peck and scratch 
 
WRITING FOR NEWSPAPERS. 569 
 
 around the subject like a hen; pounce upon it boldly 
 like an eagle. Almost every article presented by un- 
 practiced writers to magazines — no matter how admirable 
 the subject — drifts to leeward for one or two pages be- 
 fore the writer gets steerage-way on his thoughts and the 
 reader finds out where he wants to sail to. This fault 
 could easily be avoided by proper revision. Cut out all 
 that does not bear on the subject discussed; every use- 
 less adjective ; every ineffective repetition of the same 
 idea. Then consider whether you have said what you 
 wanted to say in the best language at your command. If 
 not, write on till you feel satisfied. Then condense and 
 prune. Do not seek for striking metaphor or sprightly 
 epigram, to decorate your article. If such occur natur- 
 ally, they may be put in, but with caution. Consider 
 whether you really gain anything by them; whether they 
 really add force to your writing, or merely flatter your 
 vanity at the time. Afterward, when all is done in the 
 way of argument, you may here and there carefully add 
 an apt quotation or pungent witticism, to attract atten- 
 tion and make some important sentence snap, like the 
 cracker on a coach-whip. Remember, too, all the time, 
 that facility in composition, as in all other accomplish- 
 ments, can only be obtained by practice and perseverance. 
 
 " True grace, in writing, comes by art, not chance ; 
 As they move easiest who have learned to dance." 
 
 Do not assume that, because you have something im- 
 portant to communicate, it is necessary to write a long 
 article. A tremendous thought may be packed into a 
 small compass — made as solid as a cannon ball, and, like 
 the projectile, cut down all before it. Short articles are 
 generally more effective, find more readers, and are more 
 widely copied than long ones. Pack your thoughts close 
 together, and though your article may be brief, it will 
 have weight, and be more likely to make an impression. 
 u Ye who write for this busy age," says a late writer, 
 " speak quick, use short sentences, never stop the reader 
 with long or ambiguous words, but let the stream of 
 thought flow right on, and men will drink it like water." 
 
THE ART OF LETTER WRITING. 
 
 One of the most desirable and delightful of accom- 
 plishments is the ability to write an entertaining letter. 
 It is also one of the rarest. Even those authors who are 
 capable of works of imagination or instruction of a high 
 order, are seldom found producing letters fresh or lively 
 enough to interest the reader. Among the vast herd of 
 letter-writers who make no pretensions to literature, you 
 may find many whose familiar letters are more excellent, 
 because more unstudied than those of scholars and litter- 
 ateurs. 
 
 As the subjects of nearly all letter- writing are and 
 must be familiar and common-place, people are too apt 
 to think that to make them interesting they must strive 
 after some special graces or sublimities of style. They 
 ask themselves — how shall I dignify and adorn this com- 
 mon-place subject, so as to render it readable or present- 
 able ? Never was there a greater mistake. The chief 
 charm of all letter-writing is simplicity. There is no 
 style so readable or so delightful as that which is just 
 suited to the subject. The short, crisp sentences of 
 familiar conversation are just the ones which look best in 
 letters. Never elaborate. Shun stilts as you would a 
 hobgoblin. The style of the true letter-writer is like 
 feminine beauty— 
 
 " When unadorned, adorned the most." 
 
 What is it that makes such writings as those of Gold- 
 smith and Irving permanent favorites, while a thou- 
 sand writers of the sensation school are swept into 
 oblivion ? Is it not their simplicity and natural, unaffected 
 grace of style? And how much more essential is this 
 quality in epistolary composition — which is, or should be, 
 only conversing on paper. If you want to cultivate an 
 attractive style of letter-writing, avoid all big, Johnsonian 
 words. Write as you would talk with an intelligent, 
 lively and spirited companion — only a little more so. 
 
 570 
 
S5:-;»f.^W7 > \i»F.7 
 
 E LETTER. 
 
THE ART OF LETTER WRITING. 57! 
 
 "Doctor," said Goldsmith to Dr. Johnson, one day, "if 
 you were to write a fable about little fishes, you would 
 make the little fishes talk like whales." That remark 
 furnishes a criticism on the major portion of our episto- 
 lary, domestic, and juvenile literature. It is too formal, 
 stilted and cold. There is no life in it. Its style is of 
 the book — bookish; the words are not real, vital and 
 blood- warm, but sound ghostly, far-fetched and hollow. 
 
 Women are, or ought to be, the sovereigns of the art 
 epistolary. They have just that easy, scrappy, dear, de- 
 lightful, illogical way of putting things, which makes the- 
 charm of desultory conversation. What a relief from the 
 prosy bookishness of what are called "cultivated men!" 
 " Cultivated " — that is, in the sense of spoiled — trimmed 
 down and rounded off to a smooth monotony of ideas 
 and expression — just like a Dutch flower-garden, all 
 prim, angular, proper, and marvellously stupid. 
 
 The extreme, fastidious care of what you are going to 
 say ruins a great deal of good talk and good writing. 
 The essence of wit is spontaneity. Your cautious, timid 
 people, who converse in formulas and write by rule, 
 never say anything brilliant. A certain abandon is essen- 
 tial to vivacity and effectiveness of speech. If you walk 
 as if you were in continual fear of treading on eggs, you 
 will never get far. A truly cultivated person, with mind 
 well stored, doesn't need a martingale to restrain what 
 may be termed the friskiness of speech. Are not your 
 merry, off-hand people usually the best company ? 
 
 What charming letters have been written and printed, 
 from the pens of certain famous women! What delight- 
 ful, piquant, spirited and fascinating letters are those 
 familiar ones of Madame de Sevigne. With what inex- 
 haustible point and vivacity do they run on- and on, treat- 
 ing of all things domestic, personal, political, literary, 
 feminine, and human, which belong to the life and history 
 of the times. The letters of Madame de Maintenon, too v 
 less finished in style, are almost as interesting in sub- 
 stance. Those of Lady Mary Wortley Montague, espe- 
 cially those written in the East, are extremely good. 
 The letters of Lady Rachel Russell, have a touching 
 
572 THE ART OF LETTER WRITING. 
 
 tenderness and simplicity which renders them very inter- 
 esting. And of literary ladies, those of Elizabeth Mon- 
 tague and Elizabeth Carter are the very best. 
 
 Of the letters of great poets, many volumes of which 
 have been published, those of Pope, Gray and Byron, are 
 by far the best, and will all richly reward perusal. Those 
 of Byron exhibit powers of prose composition not at all 
 inferior to his mastery of poetic style, and are really 
 more interesting and improving reading than the poems. 
 Among English letter-writers of the court gossip school, 
 possessing besides, a wide range of personal and literary 
 interest, Horace Walpole must be placed at the head. 
 His letters are so fresh, racy and original, so felicitous in 
 epithets, so abounding in curious lore, and so free and 
 piquant in their personalities, as to furnish an inexhausti- 
 ble fund of entertainment to the reader. 
 
 An ill-tempered letter, once sent, will embitter a life- 
 time. We once heard of an old gentleman, with a wise, 
 fine head, calm face, and most benevolent look, but evi- 
 dently thin-skinned and irascible, who begged of a post- 
 master to return him a letter which he had dropped into 
 the box. To do so, as everybody knows, is illegal; but, 
 won over by the old gentleman's importunity, the post- 
 master complied upon full proof, in comparing the writing, 
 etc., being given. Then, with a beaming face, the old 
 gentleman tore the letter into fragments, and, scattering 
 them to the wind, exclaimed: "Ah! I've preserved my 
 friend." The fact is, he had written a letter, in a state 
 of irritation, which was probably unjust and hurtful, but 
 which he had wisely recalled. "Written words remain," 
 is not only a proverb, but a very grave caution : and 
 hence the advice never to write in anger, or, at any rate, 
 to keep your letter till you are cool. A very good 
 practice, when you are indignant at any one's conduct, 
 is to write a letter couched in the strongest terms pos- 
 sible, as abusive as you can make it, as satirical and as 
 ill-natured as the matter will afford, and, having done all 
 this, to direct, seal, and put it in your desk for a few 
 hours, then read it for your own satisfaction, and — tear 
 it up. 
 
DOING GOOD. 
 
 Dr. Franklin informs us that all the good he ever did 
 to his country or to mankind, he owed to a small book 
 which he accidentally met with, entitled, "Essays to do 
 Good," in several sermons written by Cotton Mather. 
 This little book, he says, he studied with care and atten- 
 tion, laid up the sentiments in his memory, and resolved 
 from that time — which was in his early youth — that he 
 would make doing good the great purpose and business 
 of his life. 
 
 The mind, and morals, and character of the young are 
 formed to a great extent by what they read. 
 
 There was a great master among the Jews, who bid his 
 scholars consider and tell him what was the best way 
 wherein a man should always keep. One came and said 
 that there was nothing better than a good eye, which is 
 in their language, a liberal and contented disposition. 
 Another said a good companion is the best thing in the 
 world. A third said a good neighbor was the best thing 
 he could desire ; and the fourth preferred a man that 
 could foresee things to come — that is, a wise person. But 
 at last came in one Eleazar, and he said a good heart was 
 better than them all. " True," said the master, " thou hast 
 comprehended in two words all that the rest have said ; 
 for he that hath a good heart will be both contented, and 
 a good companion, and a good neighbor, and easily see 
 what is fit to be, done by him." Let every man then 
 seriously labor to find in himself a sincerity and upright- 
 ness of heart at all times, and that will save him abund- 
 ance of other labor. 
 
 We counsel our friends, then, to seize every oppor- 
 tunity of contributing to the good of others. Sometimes 
 a smile will do it. Oftener a kind word, a look of sym- 
 pathy, or an acknowledgment of obligation. Sometimes 
 a little help to a burdened shoulder, or a heavy wheel, 
 will be in place. Sometimes a word or two of good 
 counsel, a seasonable and gentle admonition, and at 
 
 573 
 
574 DOING GOOD. 
 
 others, a suggestion of advantage to be gained and a 
 little interest to secure it, will be received with lasting 
 gratitude. And thus every instance of kindness done, 
 whether acknowledged or not, opens up a little wellspring 
 of happiness in the doer's own breast, the flow of which 
 may be made permanent by habit. 
 
 How often do we sigh for opportunities for doing good, 
 while we neglect the opening of Providence in little 
 things which would lead to the accomplishment of most 
 important usefulness! Dr. Johnson used to say, "He 
 who waits to do a great deal of good at once, will never 
 do any." Good is done by degrees. However small in 
 proportion to benefits which follow individual attempts 
 to do good, a great deal may -be accomplished by perse- 
 verance, even in the midst of discouragements and dis- 
 appointments. Life is made up of little things. It is 
 but once in an age that occasion is offered for doing a 
 great deed. True greatness consists in being great in 
 little things. How are railroads built ? By one shovel- 
 ful of dirt after another; one shovelful at a time. Thus 
 drops make the ocean. Hence, we should be willing to 
 do a little good at a time, and never " wait to do a great 
 deal of good at once." If we would do much good in 
 the world, we must be willing to do good in little things, 
 little acts one after another, setting a good example all 
 the time: we must do the first good thing we can, and 
 then the next, and the next, and so keep on doing good. 
 This is the way to accomplish anything. Thus only shall 
 we do all the good in our power. 
 
 In President Elliot's Inaugural Address at Harvard, he 
 spoke of the founders of that ancient University as being 
 animated hy "the beautiful hope of doing good." The 
 expression strikes us as singularly attractive and preg- 
 nant, with meaning. What hope can be more desirable 
 in the heart than this of doing good, and of so doing 
 good that the years of the future will rise up and call 
 our actions blessed! And yet in how comparatively few 
 hearts does this hope find place. The majority of men 
 live and die making no provision for the future, whereby 
 their names shall be kept in remembrance when the 
 
DOING GOOD. 575 
 
 places that know them shall know them no more forever; 
 and over whom might be written the old epitaph : — 
 "Here lies a man who did no good, and if he'd lived, he 
 never would ; where he's gone, and how he fares, nobody- 
 knows and nobody cares." 
 
 He who does good to another man, does good also to 
 himself, not only in the consequence, but in the very act 
 of doing it, for the conscience of well doing is an ample 
 reward. Try to do good at all times ; and God will re- 
 ward you for it hereafter. The measure of accounta- 
 bility is decided as much by the good we leave undone, 
 as by the evil which we do. 
 
 It is not by great deeds, like those of the martyrs, that 
 good is to be done ; it is by the daily and quiet virtues 
 of life — the christian temper, the meek forbearance, the 
 spirit of forgiveness, in the husband, wife, father, mother, 
 brother, sister, friend, or neighbor, that good is to be 
 done. Be good — for to be good is to be happy. 
 
 Run not after blessings; only walk in the command- 
 ments of God, and blessings shall run after you, pursue 
 and overtake you. Carlyle says : " Make yourself a 
 good man, and then you may be sure that there is one 
 rascal less in the world." 
 
 Be always sure of doing good. This will make your 
 life comfortable, your death happy, and your account 
 glorious. Zealously strive to do good for the sake of 
 good. The pleasure of doing good is the only one that 
 never wears out. 
 
 Says Hawthorne, "For my own part, if I had an in- 
 supportable burden, if for any cause I were bent upon 
 sacrificing every earthly hope as a peace offering toward 
 heaven, I would make the wide world my cell, and good 
 deeds to mankind my prayer." Many penitent men have 
 done this and found peace in it. 
 
 Those men who are of the noblest disposition think 
 themselves the happiest when others share their happi- 
 ness with them. Benevolence is a fundamental law of our 
 moral being; and the man who labors for his fellow-men 
 secures thereby the gratification of his most commanding 
 principles of action ; but he who labors for himself alone, 
 
576 DOING GOOD. 
 
 stirs up against his own peace some of the most opera- 
 tive elements of his worst nature. 
 
 Seeking the welfare of man is goodness — of all virtues 
 the greatest — because it is aiming to imitate God. There 
 be many just men ; there be man y of various personal 
 excellence ; but it takes everything to make a good man. 
 He must be wise; he must be just; he must be pure; 
 and he must suffuse justice, and wisdom, and purity with 
 such love that he shall be sympathetic, genial and tender. 
 It is this element of love, added to all the substantial 
 excellences which form the character that makes a man 
 good in distinction from just or benevolent or wise. It 
 is only great souls that know how much glory there is in 
 being good. 
 
 When Alexander the Great was asked on his death bed 
 whom he wish to succeed him in his empire, he answered, 
 "the most worthy." When the fathers of the American 
 Republic were framing a Constitution for the preserva- 
 tion of its liberties, they cherished the hope that the 
 people would confide the administration of the new Gov- 
 ernment to "the most worthy." 
 
 Do good with what thou hast, or it will do thee no 
 good. The power of doing good to worthy objects, is 
 the only enviable circumstance in the lives of people of 
 fortune. Napoleon once entered a cathedral and saw 
 twelve silver statues. " What are these? " said the Em- 
 peror. " The twelve Apostles," was the reply. " Well," 
 said he, " take them down, melt them, and coin them 
 into money, and let them go about doing good, as their 
 Master did." 
 
 We often omit the good we might do in consequence 
 of thinking about that which is out of our power to do. 
 Many long for good to come to them, but never think 
 the present the right time to seek it. 
 
DUTY. 
 
 A good man and a wise man may at times be angry 
 with the world, at times grieve for it ; but be sure no 
 man was ever discontented with the world who did 
 his duty in it. Duty cannot be neglected without harm 
 to those who practice, and those who suffer the neglect. 
 Duties in general, like that class of them called debts, 
 give more trouble the longer they remain unpaid. 
 There is a beautiful legend illustrating the blessedness 
 of performing our duty at whatever cost to our own 
 inclinations. A beautiful vision of our Savior had 
 appeared to a monk, and in silent bliss he was gazing 
 upon it. The hour arrived at which he was to feed the 
 poor of the convent. He lingered not in his cell to en- 
 joy the vision, but he left to perform his humble duty. 
 When he returned he found the blessed vision still 
 waiting for him, and uttering these words : "Hadst 
 thou staid, I must have fled" 
 
 The only thing which any and every one can do, and 
 need do, is his duty. It was said by Kossuth that 
 "anything which an honest man would do is, of course, 
 not to be considered as a merit, but simply as a duty." 
 Every hour comes to us charged with duty, and the 
 moment it is passed it is registered for or against us in 
 the final account which all must give of their actions. 
 The one thing needed to our poor humanity is the one 
 duty nearest to us all the time. No man ever did or 
 ever will do his duty "by and by". "Do to-day," said 
 Goethe, ' 'thy nearest duty. ' ' Duty, faithfully performed, 
 opens the mind to truth. If we contend with, and fly 
 from our duties, simply because they gall us and burden 
 us, we go against everything ; but if we take them up 
 bravely, then everything goes with us, God and good 
 angels and men and all good influences are working 
 with us when we are working for the right. 
 
 37 
 
578 DUTY. 
 
 No character can be lastingly injured by a fearless 
 discharge of duty. Calumny or prejudice may ob- 
 scure it for a time, but in the end it will shine the 
 brighter for the clouds which obscured it. No man's 
 spirits were ever hurt by doing his duty ; on the con- 
 trary, one good action, one temptation resisted and 
 overcome, one sacrifice of desire or interest, purely for 
 conscience' sake, will prove a cordial for weak and low 
 spirits, far beyond what indulgence or diversion, or 
 company can ever do for them. There is no shady side 
 to the pathway of duty. What greater instance can 
 there be of a weak and pusillanimous temper, than for 
 a man to pass his whole life in opposition to his own 
 sentiments ; or not to dare to do what he thinks he 
 ought to do? The moment any occupation becomes a 
 duty, even if it is merely picking straws, it ceases to be 
 useless, and the manner in which we do it must be of 
 infinite consequence. Remember that self-interest is 
 more likely to warp your judgment than all other cir- 
 cumstances combined ; therefore look well to your duty 
 when your interest is concerned. That man hath no 
 sense of mercy that wants a sense of duty. While you 
 aim to fulfil the duties which you owe to society, you 
 take the most effectual measures to promote your own 
 respectability and happiness. A faithful discharge of 
 duty is seldom or never unrewarded. Men can hardly 
 be more mistaken than to think of gaining the esteem 
 of others, by yielding to their wishes contrary to their 
 own sense of duty. Duties fulfilled are always pleas- 
 ant to the memory. 
 
 If we would spend the time, the nervous energy and 
 mental fire, in doing the duties of life, which we often 
 spend in dreading them, we and the world would be 
 stronger and better. All the severe tasks of life only 
 grow more formidable as we look at them from a dis- 
 tance, while we grow weaker all the while, and less 
 disposed to grapple with them. We should inquire 
 with an honest, brave heart, what are our duties here 
 and now ; and with what of mental energy we can sum- 
 mon at the moment, we should go forward to perform 
 
DUTYo 579 
 
 them. In xne very act of attempting to do them, we 
 shall gain strength to do them. Not before, but at the 
 time, the needed strength will come. Not while we 
 dread, but while we do the work of life, the Master 
 helps us. It must, undoubtedly, be the design of our 
 Heavenly Father, that all this toil for the supply 
 of our physical necessities — this incessant occupation 
 amid the 'things that perish — shall be no obstruction, 
 but rather a help to our spiritual life. The weight of a 
 clock seems a heavy drag on the delicate movements 
 of its machinery ; but so far from arresting or imped- 
 ing these movements, it is indispensable to their stead- 
 iness, balance and accuracy. There must be some an- 
 alogous action of what seems the clog and drag-weight 
 of worldly work on the finer movements of man's spir- 
 itual being. The planets in the heavens have a two- 
 fold motion in their orbits and on their axis; the one 
 motion not interfering, but carried on simultaneously, 
 and in perfect harmony with the other ; so must it be 
 that man's two-fold activities round the heavenly and 
 the earthly center disturb not nor jar with each other. 
 He who diligently discharges the duties of the earthly, 
 may, at the same moment, fulfil those of the heavenly 
 sphere; at once "diligent in business" and "fervent in 
 spirit, serving the Lord." 
 
 Duty is not Christian liberty, but it is the first step 
 toward liberty. We are free only When we love what 
 we are to do and those to whom we do it. Let a man 
 begin in earnest with, "I ought," and he will end, by 
 God's grace, if he persevere, with, "I will." Let him 
 force himself to abound in all small offices of kindliness, 
 attention, affectionateness, and all these for the Lord's 
 sake ; and, by and by, he will feel them become the 
 habit of his soul. 
 
 He whose heart is, through grace, right in the sight 
 of the Lord, has great simplicity in his plan of life. 
 "This one thing I do," is his daily language, and that 
 one thing, is the will of God. 
 
 The sweetest word in our language is love ; the great- 
 est word, God; the word expressing the shortest time, 
 
\ 
 
 580 GOODNESS. 
 
 now. The three make the greatest and T eetest duty 
 man can perform. 
 
 GOODNESS. 
 
 To be good is to be happy. Neither the love of fame 
 nor the fear of shame can make a good man stoop to an 
 unjust action. The breast of a good man is a little 
 heaven commencing on earth, where the Deity sits en- 
 throned with unrivaled influence. The good man is 
 alive to all the sympathies, the sanctities, and the loves 
 of social existence. He not only thinks good thoughts, 
 but does good deeds, and lives more in a year, than a 
 selfish, covetous man in a century. 
 
 Good men are not always found in union with, but 
 sometimes in opposition to the views and conduct of one 
 another. A good man is influenced by God, himself, 
 and has a kind of divinity within him. If a good man 
 cannot prevent evil, he will hang heavy on its wings, 
 and retard its progress. The remembrance of wise and 
 good men instructs as well as their presence. As in 
 literature we shall find some things that are true, and 
 some that are new, but very few things that are both 
 true and new ; so also in life, we shall find some men 
 that are great, and some that are good, but very few 
 men that are both great and good. He that is good, 
 will almost infallibly become better, and he that is bad, 
 will as certainly become worse; for vice, virtue, and 
 time are three things that never stand still. It is a 
 Chinese proverb, that "he who is a good son, makes a 
 good brother, a good husband, a good relative, a good 
 friend, a good neighbor, a good citizen." A good man 
 is kinder to his enemy than bad men are to their friends. 
 The good distrust themselves — the perverse their neigh- 
 bors. There are none but that have received more 
 good than they have done, and done more evil than 
 they have suffered. Good men are happy both in life 
 and death; the wicked are in neither. 
 
GOODNESS. 581 
 
 All things have some kind of standard by which the 
 natural goodness of them is to be measured. We do 
 not therefore esteem a ship to be good because it is 
 curiously carved, painted and gilded ; but because it is 
 fitted for all the purposes of navigation, which is the 
 proper use of a ship. It should be so likewise in our 
 esteem of men, who are not so much to be valued for 
 the grandeur of their estates or titles, as for their inward 
 goodness and excellence. The prerogatives of good 
 men appear plain in this, that men grant more honors 
 to the sepulchers of the virtuous, than to the boasted 
 palace of the wicked. It was said of the good Emperor 
 Severus, as well as of Augustus, that he should never 
 have been born, or that he should never have died. 
 
 The actual possession of one virtue is preferable to the 
 bare speculative knowledge of all arts and sciences to- 
 gether. Rectitude of will is a greater ornament and per- 
 fection, than brightness of understanding; and to be 
 divinely good, is more valuable than any other wisdom 
 or knowledge. The great opportunity for knowing is 
 after this life; but the only opportunity for being 
 good, is now ; and if we take care to improve this, we 
 are sufficiently secure of the other; but if this be neg- 
 lected, all is lostc A good man, therefore, whether he be 
 rich or poor, learned or unlearned, may at all times re- 
 joice with a cheerful countenance. Many afflictions 
 may befall him, but no evil ; for contraries will never 
 incorporate. All the rivers in the world will never be 
 able to change the taste and quality of the sea. 
 
 It is not in the power of a good man to refuse to 
 make another happy, where he has both ability and 
 opportunity. Goodness is generous and diffusive ; it is 
 largeness of mind, and sweetness of temper; modest and 
 sincere, inoffensive and obliging. Where this quality 
 is predominant, there is a noble forwardness for public 
 benefit; an ardor to relieve the wants, to remove the 
 oppressions, and better the condition of all mankind. 
 
 Grod thinks more of the good than the influential, 
 Think always only of the best, and the good will very soon 
 appear. That is not always excellent which lies away 
 
582 GOODNESS. 
 
 from us. "What is remote and difficult of access," 
 says Longfellow, "we are apt to over-rate;" what is 
 really best for us lies always within our reach, though 
 often overlooked. Whatever is done by those around 
 you, be yourself fully determined to walk in the most 
 excellent way; goodness of heart is man's best treas- 
 ure, his brightest honor, wisest acquisition. 
 
 After we have practised good actions awhile, they 
 become easy ; and when they are easy, we begin to take 
 pleasure in them ; and when they please us, we do them 
 frequently ; and by frequency of acts, a thing grows in- 
 to a habit; and confirmed habit is a kind of second 
 nature ; and so far as anything is natural, so far it is 
 necessary, and we can hardly do otherwise; nay, we do 
 it many times when we do not think of it. If we take 
 pains in what is good, the pains vanish, but the good re- 
 mains; if we take pleasure in what is evil, the evil re- 
 mains, and the pleasure vanishes. What are we the 
 worse for pains, or the better for pleasures, when both 
 are past? The memory of good and worthy actions 
 gives a quicker relish to the soul, than ever it could 
 possibly take in the highest enjoyments of youth. 
 
 Be always at leisure to do good; never make busi- 
 ness an excuse for declining the offices of humanity. 
 In Italy, their ordinary form of asking is, "do good for 
 your own sake." To love the public, to study universal 
 good, and to promote the interests of the whole world, as 
 far as lies within our power, is the height of goodness, 
 and makes that temper which we call divine. The 
 omission of good is a commission of evil. Every 
 negation implies the affirmation of the contrary. The 
 most powerful method of opposing evil, is not to recog- 
 nize, but to deny it so -far as we can truthfully ; that is 
 already the substitution of good. 
 
 No evil action can be well done ; but a good one may 
 be ill done. 
 
 Probably the worst man that ever existed never 
 committed a bad action without some compunction, 
 nor a good one without some delight. 
 
GOOD NATURE. 
 
 Good nature is the very air of a good mind, the sign 
 of a large and generous soul, and the peculiar soil in 
 which virtue prospers. It is of all virtues and digni- 
 ties of the mind the greatest, being of the character of 
 the Deity; "without it," says Lord Bacon, "man is a 
 busy, mischievous, wretched thing, no better than a 
 kind of vermin." 
 
 In true good nature, there is neither the acrimony of 
 spleen, nor the sullenness of malice. It is neither 
 clamorous, nor fretful ; neither easy to be offended, nor 
 impatient to revenge. It is a tender sensibility, a par- 
 ticipation of the pains and pleasures of others; and is, 
 therefore, a forcible and constant motive to communi- 
 cate happiness, and alleviate misery. Good nature, 
 therefore, if intellectual excellence cannot atone for the 
 want of it, must be admitted as the highest personal 
 merit. If without it, wisdom is not kind, without it 
 folly must be brutal. The quality most essential to 
 conjugal felicity is good nature. 
 
 One cannot imagine any quality of the human mind 
 whence greater advantages can arise to society, than 
 good nature, seeing that man is a social being, not 
 made for solitude, but for conversation. It not only 
 lessens the sorrows of life, but increases its comforts. 
 It is more agreeable than beauty, or even wit. It 
 gives a pleasing expression to the countenance, and 
 induces a multitude of the most amiable observations. 
 It is, indeed, the origin of all society. Were it not for 
 good nature, men could not exist together, nor hold 
 intercourse with one another. Really, it is disgraceful 
 that men are so ill taught and unprepared for social 
 life as they are- often turning their best energies, 
 their acquisitions, and their special advantages into 
 means of annoyance to those with whom they live. It 
 should be understood, that to bring up a man with a 
 genial nature, a good temper, and a happy frame of 
 
 583 
 
584 GOOD NATURE. 
 
 mind, is a greater effort than to perfect him in much 
 knowledge, and many accomjDlishments. That man is 
 rich who has a good disposition — who is naturally 
 kind, patient, cheerful, hopeful, and who has a flavor of 
 wit and fun in his composition. The hardest thing to 
 get along with, in this life, is a man's own self. A 
 cross, selfish fellow — a timid, care-burdened man — these 
 have all been deformed on the inside. Their feet may 
 not limp, but their thoughts do. Grood nature redeems 
 many faults. More than beauty, wealth, power, gen- 
 ius, it causes men and women to be loved. If there are 
 no shining qualities whatever in the character, even 
 should there be considerable intellectual deficiency, yet 
 if a good temper beams brightly on the countenance, 
 we ask for nothing more. We pause not; we do not 
 question, nor hesitate, but surrender at once to the fas- 
 cination of the good and honest soul, that has set upon 
 his face the seal of this admirable quality. 
 
 Grood nature is not usually reckoned among the 
 Christian virtues, but it is the nurse of them all. 
 Sunshine is neither a fruit, nor a flower, but it is the 
 parent of both. What is good nature but benevo- 
 lence ? It bears the same relation to religous benevo- 
 lence, which common sense does to genius. Genius is 
 common sense in a sublime form, applied to higher pur- 
 suits. Good nature — a happy, smiling, cheerful state 
 of mind, which will not be offended, and will not offend, 
 borne about in daily life, and pervading common, home- 
 ly and minute affairs, — is a true benevolence, though 
 the specialties of it may seem small and unimportant. 
 Very few of us need the courage which would face 
 death, and carry us to martyrdom. We need a thous- 
 and times more, those Christian virtues, which will keep 
 us from being snappish before breakfast; which will 
 make us patient when some-one treads upon our corns; 
 which will quell pride upon petty provocations ; that 
 will make us attentive to the feelings of the poor, and 
 humble; which will arm us with fortitude against 
 the little frets and bickers of domestic life ; or make 
 us kind and forbearing with men that seem harsh and 
 
GOOD NATURE. 585 
 
 unfair in their dealings with us. indeed, if we choose 
 to think so, daily life is a martyrdom, and cares and 
 annoyances are the faggots heaped about us. Weari- 
 ness, discouragement, irritations, disputes, misunder- 
 standings, mean pride and meaner vanity, — these are 
 the rabble rout that gather about the victim to help 
 immolate him. In our day, without doubt, it requires 
 more grace for some men to be good natured — simply 
 and evenly good natured — than it required in some 
 old martyrs to be burnt#at the stake. There are coals 
 hotter than any which come from wood. There is 
 smoke more suffocating than any which faggots make. 
 "He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty ; 
 and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city." 
 And it is worth whatever it may cost. It will repay a 
 man. It will make life golden. It is the philosopher's 
 stone that changes dull metals to gold. It will give 
 men power. It is not an ambitious grace, but it is a 
 grace of signal powerfulness. No man has such advan- 
 tage over others as he whom no man can provoke. 
 
 And yet good nature is not necessarily kindness, nor 
 a proof of grace in the heart. Goodnature is often 
 largely the result of good digestion— the consequence 
 of nerves well sheathed in adipose matter. Many 
 men do not feel, and hence are not irritated; why 
 should they not be kind and easy-going? There are 
 hundreds of sweet-cheeked, sunny-faced, plump-bodied 
 men, who go through the world kindly, and are not to 
 be under- valued, for they lubricate the ways of life, but 
 they ought not to call themselves by false names, for 
 after all, their good nature may be very superficial and 
 far more physical than mental. It is not an active 
 good nature ; it does not put forth effort ; it does not 
 even give anything ; it does not suffer for the sake of 
 doing good to others. There are many acerb men; 
 there are many hard-faced men ; there are many rough, 
 severe men, who, though they will hew you with their 
 tongue, will put forth ten times as much true-served 
 love for you, as these waxy-cheeking, good natured, 
 abdominal men. 
 
586 GOOD NATURE. 
 
 Still we urge good nature upon all. Good nature is 
 the beauty of the mind, and, like personal beauty, wins 
 almost without anything else — sometimes, indeed, in 
 spite of positive deficiencies. Under all circumstances 
 keep good-natured. It is not only wrong to be surly, 
 but it is good policy to be sunny and agreeable. One 
 feels more comfortable himself, and finds others more 
 obliging. 
 
 • Crustiness of temper and speech bear their natural 
 fruit. A lawyer riding through a town stopped at a 
 cottage to inquire his way. The lady of the house told 
 him he must keep right straight on for some time, and 
 then turn oo the right ; but said that she herself was 
 going to pass the road he must take, and that if he 
 would wait a few minutes, she would show him the 
 way. "Well," said he, "bad company is better than 
 none ; make haste." After jogging on five or six miles, 
 the gentleman asked if he had not come to the road he 
 must take. "Oh, yes," said she, " we passed it two or 
 three miles back, but I thought that poor company was 
 better than none, so I kept you along with me." The 
 eccentric and surly John .Randolph, stopping for the 
 night at a country inn, his carriage was, as usual, 
 brought to the door for him. As he was about driving 
 off, the landlord pleasantly said, "Which way do you go 
 to-day, Mr. R.?" "Do I owe you anything?" growled 
 Randolph. "I believe we are all square," replied the 
 landlord. "Well, then, I'll go which way I please," 
 again growled Randolph, and away he went. Not 
 long after, he came to a fork in the road, and found 
 himself unable to decide which branch to take, so he 
 sent his servant back to the landlord. "Tell Mr. Ran- 
 dolph he doesn't owe me one cent, and he may go just 
 which way he pleases." 
 
 Be good natured, who ever you may be, for it will 
 always accomplish your end best, and there is no at- 
 traction so great, no charm so admirable. Be good 
 natured continually. Any one may do a casual act of 
 good nature, but a continuation of them shows it to be 
 a part of the temperament. Genuine good nature, 
 
GOOD NATURE. 587 
 
 like the bee, collects sweetness from every herb. Ill 
 nature, like the spider, collects poison from honeyed 
 flowers. Good spirits are often taken for good nature, 
 yet nothing differs more, insensibility being generally 
 the source of the former, sensibility the latter. 
 
 A face that is full of the expression of good nature 
 is always beautiful. It needs no paint and no powder. 
 Cosmetics are superfluous for it. Rouge cannot im- 
 prove its cheeks, nor lily-white mend its complexion. 
 Its loveliness lies beyond all this. It is not the beauty 
 that is but skin deep. For when you gaze into the face 
 of a noble-hearted man or woman, it is not the shape 
 of the features that you really see, nor yet the tint of 
 the cheek, the hue of the lip, or the brilliance of the eye. 
 You see the nameless something which animates all 
 these, and leaves for your instinct a sense of grateful 
 fascination; you see an indescribable embodiment of 
 good-heartedness within, which wins your regard in 
 spite of external appearance, and defies all the critical 
 rules of the aesthetic. Cultivate therefore good nature. 
 It is better than "apples of gold set in pictures of sil- 
 ver," for gold will take to itself wings and fly away; 
 silver will tarnish in time, and both, when abun- 
 dant, lose their comparative value; bat good nature 
 never, never loses its worth — never abandons its 
 posessor to the mental poverty of the malicious — 
 never loses its hold on the esteem of the world. It 
 is always in fashion, and always in season. Every- 
 body admires it. It never grows stale. It costs little 
 to acquire, and nothing to keep. Yet it is beyond dia- 
 monds in its worth to its owners, and can neither be 
 stolen nor lost. Surely it is a jewel that merits a 
 search; and, when found, merits a protection. Pos- 
 sess yourselves of it, young women ; no talis-man will 
 find you so bewitching in the judgment of the sensible 
 among the other sex. Secure it young man ; you could 
 have no better attraction for a loving woman, and no 
 safer guarantee of domestic happiness. 
 
 Those children are universally beloved, who are uni- 
 formly good natured. A heart of stone will melt be- 
 
588 TKUTH. 
 
 fore the pleasant smile, the ringing laugh, the joyous 
 shout, and the merry prattle of childhood ; while a 
 snarling, petulant, and fretful disposition, will drive 
 away the comfort of many an otherwise happy circle. 
 As in childhood, so in youth; good nature renders a 
 boy beloved by his companions, and a girl, the idol of 
 her friends. Parents should spare no pains in incul- 
 cating such a spirit in their children. Honesty and 
 integrity of purpose are more vitally important, as 
 concerns our future well being, but the cheerful ma is 
 the happy one here, and much more likely to be the 
 successful one also. It is almost impossible for a 
 youth whose temper is soured in his early days, to 
 clear his brow in after life. 
 
 TRUTH. 
 
 Truth is the most powerful thing in the world. 
 Even fiction itself must be governed by it, and can 
 only please by its resemblance. The appearance of 
 reality is necessary to make any passion agreeably 
 represented, and to be able to move others, we must 
 be moved ourselves, or at least seem to be so, upon 
 some probable grounds. A prelate being in the com- 
 pany of (xarrick, asked him how it was that the fictions 
 of the stage were received so favorably, and listened 
 to with so much delight, whilst the truths of eternity 
 enforced from the pulpit, produced so little effect. 
 "My Lord,' 7 replied the actor, "here lies the secret; 
 you deliver your truths as if they were fictions, but we 
 deliver our fictions as if they were truths." 
 
 "There is nothing so delightful," says Plato, "as the 
 hearing, or the speaking of truth. For this reason 
 there is no conversation so agreeable as that of the 
 man of integrity, who hears without any design to be- 
 tray, and speaks without any intention to deceive." 
 Truth is always consistent with itself, and needs noth- 
 ing to help it. It is alwavs near at hand ; it sits upon 
 
TEUTH. 589 
 
 our lips, and is ready to drop out before we are aware ; 
 whereas a lie is troublesome, and sets a man's inven- 
 tion upon a rack; and one trick needs a great many 
 more to make it good. 
 
 Plain truth must have plain words. She is innocent 
 and accounts it no shame to be seen naked ; whereas 
 the hypocrite or double dealer shelters and hides him- 
 self in ambiguities and reserves. Truth may be 
 expressed without art or affectation ; but a lie stands in 
 need of both. Truth is born within us; and we must 
 do violence to nature to shake off our veracity. Virtue 
 scorns a lie for its cover ; and truth needs no orator. 
 Truth and falsehood, like iron and clay in Nebuchad- 
 nezzar's image, may cleave, but they will not incor- 
 porate. 
 
 Grod is the author of truth ; all truth comes from him. 
 The devil is the father of lies ; all error proceeds from 
 him. If the telling of a truth shall endanger thy life, 
 the great author of truth will protect thee from danger,, 
 or reward thee for thy damage. If the telling of a lie 
 may secure thy life, the father of lies will beguile thee 
 of thy gains, or traduce the security. Better by losing 
 of a life to save it, than by saving of a life to lose it. 
 And better thou perish than the truth. The reign of a 
 falsehood endures but a moment ; that of truth is eter- 
 nal. Therefore, never be afraid to own the truth, let 
 the consequences be what they may. Ever keep truth 
 for your motto and guide, and you will surely be the 
 gainer in the end. Truth is mighty and will prevail. 
 Be just and true; fear not. When a man has no de- 
 sign but to speak the truth, he may say a great deal 
 in a very small compass. We must not always speak 
 all that we know — that were folly, but what a man 
 says, should be what he thinks, otherwise it is knav- 
 ery. All a man can get by lying and dissembling is 
 that he shall not be believed when he speaks the truth. 
 Do not think that because "the truth should not be 
 spoken at all times," you would be justified in making 
 a business of trying to stretch the truth. There is no 
 truth more important, and few less thought of than 
 
590 TRUTH. 
 
 this : the more we forsake simplicity in anything, the 
 more we multiply the means of corruption and error. 
 
 Such was the ingenuous simplicity of the primitive 
 Christians, that they looked upon it as a disparage- 
 ment to be put under oath, thinking it sufficient for a 
 good man to give this assurance of his truth, / speak 
 truly. They counted it an impious thing even to dis- 
 semble the truth, and scorned to live upon such base 
 rterms as to be beholden to hypocrisy for their lives. 
 It is common for some men governed by human reason, 
 to invent various exceptions, to elude the force of veri- 
 ty. Nothing can be more despicable and base, than 
 for a man to speak contrary to his own knowledge and 
 sense of things. 
 
 Truth in every thing is still the same, and like its 
 great Author, can be but one ; and the sentence of 
 reason stands as firm as the foundation of the earth. 
 Reason is ever allied to truth. There is a kind of 
 magic in truth, which forcibly carries the mind along 
 with it. Men readily embrace the dictates of sincere 
 reason. Aristotle lays it down for a maxim, that a 
 brave man is clear in his discourse, and keeps close to 
 the truth. 
 
 As nothing is more daring than truth, so there is 
 nothing more cheerful than innocence. Truth alone, 
 without eloquence, is sufficiently powerful and persua- 
 sive, and stands in need of no studied and artificial 
 practice to vindicate and recommend it. I had rather, 
 said Lucian, please by telling truth, than be diverting 
 in telling tales ; because if I be not agreeable, I may 
 be useful. The Egyptian princes used to wear a gold- 
 en chain beset with precious stones, which they styled 
 Truth, intimating that to be the most illustrious orna- 
 ment. Nothing is more noble, nothing more venerable, 
 than fidelity. Faithfulness and truth are the most 
 sacred excellencies and endowments of the human 
 mind. Truth is so great a perfection, says Pythagoras, 
 that if God would render himself visible unto men, he 
 would choose light for his body and truth for his soul. 
 Truth is not always relished where sin is nourished. 
 
TRUTH. 591 
 
 Light is pleasant, yet it may be offensive to sore 
 eyes. 
 
 Truth is the foundation of virtue. An habitual re- 
 gard for it is absolutely necessary. He who walks by 
 the light of it has the advantage of the midday sun ; 
 he who would spurn it goes forth amid clouds and 
 darkness. There is no way in which a man strength- 
 ens his own judgment, and acquires respect in society 
 so surely, as by a scrupulous regard to truth. The 
 groundwork of all manly character is veracity or the 
 habit of truthfulness. That virtue lies at the founda- 
 tion of everything said. No face that we can give to a 
 matter will shield us so well at last as the truth. Say 
 what you have to say, not what you ought. Any truth 
 is better than make-believe. Truth has nothing to fear 
 from error ; constant friction does but improve its 
 polish even as it removes the rust from steel. We 
 have no fear but that the truth will prove itself the 
 stronger, sooner or later, in every grapple with every 
 passion of human nature. The open, bold, honest truth 
 is always the wisest, always the safest for every one in 
 any and all circumstances. 
 
 Some business men say they can not succeed without 
 telling occasional "white lies." But Mr. A. T. Stew- 
 art, the New York millionaire merchant, one of the 
 most successful traders in the world, speaking of his 
 object in life, to an acquaintance, said: "I do business 
 to establish a principle. It is the principle of truth. 
 I am in a state of continual warfare to prevent what 
 are called white lies being told in my establishment." 
 If there be no faith in words, of what use t are they ? 
 How immensely would our conversation be abridged, if 
 all mankind would only speak the truth. To speak 
 the truth is the privilege of a freeman : to do it round- 
 ly and plainly is his glory. 
 
 Truth is violated by falsehood, and it may be equally 
 outraged by silence. Truth withheld is sometimes a 
 a worse deception than a direct misstatement. Truth 
 being founded on a rock, you may boldly dig to see its 
 foundation without fear of destroying the edifice ; but 
 
592 TKUTH. 
 
 falsehood being laid on the sand, if you examine its 
 foundation you cause its fall. People frequently reject 
 great truths, not so much for want of evidence, as for 
 want of an inclination to search for it. There are 
 truths which some men despise, because they have 
 not examined them, and which they will not examine 
 because they despise them. Very often the kings of 
 thought treat Christ as Pilate did. They find no fault 
 in him. They go out and wash their hands, and in. 
 view of the conflict of religious opinions, they ask 
 with the old Romans, What is truth ? and, without 
 waiting for an answer or searching that which is writ- 
 ten, they try to satisfy their conscience by the excuse 
 that where so many differences exist, the truth can not 
 be reached. 
 
 Truth will ever be unpalatable to those who are de- 
 termined not to relinquish error, but can never give 
 offense to the honest and well-meaning; for the plain- 
 dealing remonstrances of a friend differ as widely from 
 the rancor of an enemy, as the friendly probe of a 
 physician from the dagger of an assassin. The love of 
 truth is ready for every concession that is honest, firm 
 against every compromise that is not. It is the noblest 
 stimulus to inquiry — ardent to seek, yet patient to 
 examine ; willing to communicate, but more willing 
 to receive ; hating petty curiosity, but passionate for 
 knowledge. It needs not the service of passion ; yea, 
 nothing so disserves it as passion when set to serve it. 
 The spirit of truth is withal the spirit of meekness. 
 
 The working force of truth lies in the wisdom and 
 will of true men ; of men who are true, not to preju- 
 dice, or an opinion, or a method, or a party, but to a 
 principle which shall overcome their prejudices, correct 
 their opinions, rectify their methods, and release them 
 from merely party ties. 
 
 If there is one thing more than another which we 
 would teach a child, it would be a love of truth. All 
 other things would be worthless without that crowning 
 excellency in human character. It is said that when 
 the mother of Washington was asked how she had 
 
conscience. 593 
 
 formed the character of her son, she replied that she 
 had early endeavored to teach him three things, obe- 
 dience, diligence and truth. No better advice can be 
 given by any parent. Truthfulness is a corner-stone 
 in character, and if it is not firmly laid in youth, there 
 will ever after be a weak spot in the foundation. 
 
 CONSCIENCE. 
 
 If you would relish your food, labor for it ; if you 
 would enjoy your raiment, pay for it before you wear 
 it ; and if you would sleep soundly, take a clear con- 
 science to bed with you. Quiet conscience gives quiet 
 sleep. "The sweetest bed-fellow," says Douglas Jer- 
 rold, "is a good conscience. It is a charming thing, 
 to feel her at our heart — to hear her evening and 
 morning song." She is more to be desired than all the 
 riches of the East. How sweet are the slumbers of 
 him who can lie down on his pillow and calmly review 
 the transactions of the day without self-condemnation 
 or self-reproach ! 
 
 The glory of a good man is the testimony of a good 
 conscience; have that, and thou wilt have inward 
 peace amidst troubles. Admit no guest into your soul 
 that the faithful watch-dog in your bosom barks at. 
 He that loses his conscience has nothing left worth 
 keeping. Many take less care of their conscience 
 than their reputation. Good conscience is sometimes 
 sold for money, but never bought with it. "Labor to 
 keep alive in your breast that spark of celestial fire, 
 conscience" was one of the series of maxims which 
 Washington framed or copied for his own use when a 
 boy. His rigid adherence to principle, his steadfast 
 discharge of duty, his utter abandonment of self, his 
 unreserved devotion to whatever interests were com- 
 mitted to his care, attest the vigilance with which he 
 obeyed that maxim. He kept alive that spark. He 
 made it shine before. He kindled it into a flame that 
 
 38 
 
594 CONSCIENCE. 
 
 illumined his life. No occasion was so momentous, 
 no circumstance so minute, as to absolve him from 
 following its guiding ray. The explanation in his 
 account book, in regard to his wife's annual visit to the 
 camp during the Revolutionary war, with his passing 
 allusion to the "self-denial" which the exigencies of the 
 country had cost him, furnishes a charming illustration 
 of his habitual exactness. The fact that every barrel 
 of flour which bore the brand of "George Washington, 
 Mount Vernon," was exempted from the otherwise 
 uniform inspection in the West India ports — that 
 name being regarded as an ample guarantee of the 
 quality and quantity of any article to which it was 
 affixed — supplies a not less striking proof that his 
 exactness was everywhere understood. 
 
 There is a policeman in every man's conscience — 
 even though you may not always find him on his beat. 
 Conscience is the chamber of justice. Our conscience 
 is as a fire within us, our sins as the fuel ; therefore, 
 instead of warming, it will scorch us, unless the fuel 
 be removed, or the heat of it be allayed by penitential 
 tears. The conscience has to do, not with fitness, or 
 expediency, or advantage, but with right and wrong. 
 In matters of conscience, first thoughts are best; in 
 matters of prudence, last thoughts are best. A good 
 conscience is the best looking-glass of heaven ; in which 
 the soul may see God's thoughts and purposes con- 
 cerning it reflected as so many shining stars. 
 
 Bulwer has said that "a man's own conscience is his 
 sole tribunal, and he should care no more for that 
 phantom "opinion," than he should fear meeting a 
 ghost if he crossed the church-yard at dark." A good 
 conscience is better than two witnesses — it will con- 
 sume your grief as the sun dissolves ice. It is a spring 
 when you are thirsty — a staff when you are weary — 
 a screen when the sun burns — a pillow in death. 
 Conscience is God within us. It is man's best friend, 
 or his dreadful enemy. Disobeyed, it haunts a man 
 everywhere. He has no power to resist it, and he lies 
 perpetually at its mercy. It is a flame kindled in his 
 
conscience. 595 
 
 soul, which inwardly torments and consumes him. It 
 is a viper which twines itself about the heart and 
 stings him in the tenderest places. It is a hungry 
 vulture, a never-dying worm, which secretly preys up- 
 on his vitals, and fills him with agony and dismay. 
 But where conscience is obeyed, it is a friend indeed — 
 a friend at home — an inward, intimate, truly bosom 
 friend. It never deserts us, even in the greatest ex- 
 tremity: 
 
 Don't quarrel with your conscience. Own up 
 when she accuses — be ashamed of your wrong 
 doings, and reform ! and thus escape her upbraidings. 
 It is true that "conscience makes cowards of us all," 
 but the fault is with ourselves, and not with conscience. 
 The very last page Theodore Parker ever wrote, tells 
 this story: "No event in my life has made so deep and 
 lasting an impression upon me. A little boy in petti- 
 coats, in my fourth year, my father sent me from the 
 field, home. A spotted tortoise, in shallow water, at 
 the foot of the rodora, caught my attention, and I lift- 
 ed my stick to strike it, when a voice within me said: 
 1 It is wrong.' I stood with uplifted stick, in wonder 
 at the new emotion, till rodora and the tortoise vanish- 
 ed from my sight. I hastened home, and asked my 
 mother, what it was that told me it was wrong. Wip- 
 ing a tear from her eye, and taking me in her arms, 
 she said: "Some men call it conscience ; but I prefer 
 to call it the voice of God in the soul of man. If you 
 listen to it, and obey it, then it will speak clearer, and 
 always guide you right. But if you turn a deaf ear, or 
 disobey, then it will fade out little by little, and leave 
 you in the dark without a guide." 
 
 There is lasting significance in that vision of the 
 Hebrew prophet, wherein God came, not in the whirl- 
 wind or the earthquake, but in the still, small voice. 
 Its truth comes home to us in the busy life of to-day as 
 it fell on the soul of that Hebrew in the quietude of the 
 Orient. It is not in the whirlwind of some great ex- 
 citement, not in the earthquake of some mighty upheav- 
 al, but in the still waiting of the soul for truth, that we 
 
596 CHARACTER. 
 
 hear the Divine Voice. Once heard and reverently 
 listened to, it makes us strong when the whirlwind 
 comes, firm amid the earthquake's shock, while Church 
 and State may reel and totter, steadfast for the right, 
 and serene amid the wildest commotions. The testi- 
 mony of a good conscience will make the comforts of 
 heaven descend upon man's weary head, like a refresh- 
 ing dew, or shower upon a parched land. It will give 
 him lively interests and secret anticipations of ap- 
 proaching joy; it will enable his soul to quit the body 
 undauntedly, and lift up his head with confidence be- 
 fore saints and angels. The comfort which it conveys 
 is greater than the capacities of mortality can appreci- 
 ate, mighty and unspeakable, and not to be understood 
 till it is felt. 
 
 CHARACTER. 
 
 If there is any one thing which immediately concerns 
 a young man, it is the formation of his character — for 
 upon it depends his prosperity and success in life. If 
 he has sound moral principles, and industrious habits — 
 is upright in his dealings, courteous, kind, and agreeable 
 in his manners, his character is of more value to him 
 than can well be computed. If, on the contrary, he is 
 immoral, without principle, coarse and vulgar in his 
 social intercourse, he is sure to find a level that will 
 bring to him a life of depravity and wretchedness, con- 
 stantly intensified by advancing years. There is noth- 
 ing which adds so much to the beauty and power of 
 man as a good moral character. It is his wealth — 
 his influence — his life. It dignifies him in every 
 station, exalts him in every condition, and glorifies him 
 in every period of his life. Such a character is more to 
 be desired than anything else on earth. It makes a 
 man free and independent. No servile tool, no crouch- 
 ing sycophant, no treacherous honor-seeker, ever bore 
 such a character. The pure joys of truth and right- 
 
CHAKACTEB. 597 
 
 eousness never spring in such persons. If young men 
 but knew how much a good character would dignify 
 and exalt them, how glorious it would make their pros- 
 pects, even in this life, never should we find them 
 yielding to the groveling and base-born purposes of 
 human nature, which destroy body and soul. 
 
 A good character is to a young man what a firm foun- 
 dation is to the artist who proposes to erect a substan- 
 tial building on it. He can well build with safety, and 
 all who behold it will have confidence in its solidity — 
 a helping hand will never be wanted ; but let a single 
 part of this be defective, and you go at hazard, doubting 
 and distrusting, and ten to one it will tumble down at 
 last and mingle all that was built on it in ruin. With- 
 out a good character poverty is a curse; with it, scarcely 
 an evil. Happiness cannot exist where good character 
 is not. All that is bright in the hope of youth, and that 
 is calm and blissful in the sober scenes of life, all that is 
 soothing in the vale of years, centers in and is derived 
 from good character. Therefore acquire this as the first 
 and most valuable good. 
 
 Character is a structure which every person is build- 
 ing, young and old, each one for himself, and in it every 
 act is a stone. If, day by day, we are careful to build 
 our lives with pure, noble and upright deeds, at the end 
 will stand a fair temple honored by God and man. But, 
 as one leak will sink a ship, and one flaw break a chain, 
 so one mean, dishonorable, untruthful act or word, will 
 forever leave its impress and work its influence on our 
 characters. Then let the several deeds unite to form a 
 day, and one by one the days grow into noble years, and 
 the years, as they slowly pass, will raise at last a beau- 
 tiful edifice, enduring forever to our praise. 
 
 In building up a character, it must be built like a 
 pyramid to be firm and lasting — broad at the base. 
 The foundation must be good, or even a pyramid would 
 crack and fall to pieces. So from early boyhood, let 
 truth, honesty, industry, obedience to parents and 
 teachers, and above all, piety, form the foundation of 
 your character, and it will become as firm as a pyramid. 
 
598 CHARACTER. 
 
 A host of calumniators can not overthrow it. But if 
 youth and early life be bad, to build a character on such 
 a beginning would be almost as difficult as to build and 
 poise a pyramid on its apex. 
 
 The person who sows good seed, or weaves into his 
 character good materials, is preparing to reap in joy, a 
 rich and plentiful harvest, and wear a robe significant 
 of relationship to saints and angels — one that maketh 
 not ashamed. But the person who lives only just to 
 eat, drink, dress, parade, shine and accumulate — lives 
 only for self and the present, lives fast to die quick, and 
 die forever; leaving lessons of sorrow only, to be read by 
 those who come after him. If you ever watched an 
 icicle as it formed, you would have noticed how it froze 
 one drop at a time, until it was a foot long or more. If 
 the water was clean, the icicle remained clear, and 
 sparkled brightly in the sun; but if the water was 
 slightly muddy, the icicle looked foul, and its beauty 
 was spoiled. Just so our characters are formed. If 
 every thought be pure and right, the soul will be bright 
 and lovely, and will sparkle with happiness ; but if there 
 be many thoughts and feelings impure and wrong, the 
 mind will be soiled, the character depraved and 
 darkened, and there will be final deformity and wretch- 
 edness. How important, then, that we should be on our 
 guard against every evil impulse and desire. 
 
 Michael Angelo took his copies from the persons on 
 the streets, and wrought them out on the walls and ceil- 
 ings of the Vatican, changing a beggar into a giant, and 
 an ordinary woman who bore a basket of flowers on her 
 arm into an angel; and the beggar and flower girl stand 
 there now in their lustrous beauty, speaking to eyes 
 that wander from every part of the wide world. The 
 rock slumbered in the mountain, and he reached out his 
 hand and took it ; and gathered the stones from the 
 field about him and built them into that awful pile, 
 which, covering acres on the ground, reaches up its 
 mighty dome toward heaven, constraining the mob of 
 the city to bow their foreheads, and to vow their prayers 
 to God. So, out of the common events of life, out of the 
 
CHARACTER. 599 
 
 passions put by God into your hearts, you may paint on 
 the walls of your life the fairest figures — angels and 
 prophets. Out of the common stones of your daily work, 
 you may build yourself a temple which shall shelter 
 your head from all harm, and bring down upon you the 
 inspiration of God. 
 
 The germ is not the tree, the acorn is not the oak, 
 mind is not character. A man may possess a great 
 mind and yet have a miserable character. God gives 
 the mind ; man must make the character. The mind is 
 a garden ; character is fruit. Mind is the white page ; 
 character is the writing on the page. Mind is a metallic 
 plate ; character is the engraving thereon. Mind is the 
 shop, the counting-room ; character is the profits in trade. 
 Large profits are made from quick sales and small per- 
 centage. So great characters are made by many little 
 acts and efforts. A dollar is composed of a thousand 
 mills ; so is a character of a thousand thoughts and acts. 
 Secret thoughts never expressed, inward indulgencies 
 in imaginary wrong, the lie never uttered for want of 
 courage, the licentious act never committed for fear of 
 public rebuke, the irreverence of the heart, are just as 
 effectual in staining the character as though the world 
 knew all about them. A subtile thing is character, the 
 aggregate of millions of little mental acts. A good 
 character is a precious thing, above rubies, gold, crowns, 
 or kingdoms, and the work of making it is the noblest 
 labor on earth. Our minds are given us, but our char- 
 acters we must make. 
 
 Aim at the real. Character always implies, as it al- 
 ways requires, manly virtue in its structure. A repu- 
 tation can be run up quickly to represent a character 
 that does not exist. Aim at the real, and not at the ap- 
 pearance of things. In placing the standard for your 
 character and your ideal of life, let your determination 
 be this: "I will be what I am really, and not in pre- 
 tence ; and what I do I will do, and not simply make be- 
 lieve that I am doing it ; and what I get I will earn, 
 and not steal, nor obtain dishonestly." Let that be 
 your settled purpose in the beginning, and it will be 
 
600 CHARACTER. 
 
 wrought into an instinct and a habit, that will ward off 
 many temptations later in life. The truest test of suc- 
 cess in life is character. It is the only true test of a 
 man. Gold is every day becoming of less consideration 
 in society. There are so many rich men already, and 
 likely to be so many richer still, that the possession of 
 mere wealth will entitle a man to no consideration of 
 itself, unless accompanied by some other, and more 
 rational claims to distinction and respect. The rulers 
 of opinion — the men of mark in society in this day, are 
 most of them self-made men. They may be rich men 
 
 — that is very well so far, but they are also men of 
 moral power — of scientific skill — of enlightened judg- 
 ment — and of large public spirit. It is not the mere 
 power of the till which these men wield, but the power 
 which works in their moral character and disciplined 
 experience. These are the strong men now. These 
 men are the embodiments of success in the truest and 
 highest sense. 
 
 Character is like stock in trade, the more of it a man 
 possesses, the greater his facilities for adding to it. 
 Character is power ; it is influence ; it makes friends, 
 creates funds, draws patronage and support, and opens 
 a sure way to honor and happiness. Colonel Chartres, 
 who was the most notorious rascal in the world, and 
 who had by all sorts of crimes amassed immense wealth, 
 sensible of the disadvantages of a bad character, was 
 once heard to say, that "he would give ten thousand 
 pounds for a character, because he should get a hundred 
 thousand pounds by it." Is it possible then, that an 
 honest man can neglect what a smart rogue would pur- 
 chase so dear? 
 
 We may judge of a man's character by what he loves 
 
 — what pleases him. If a person manifest delight in 
 low and sordid objects, the vulgar song and debasing 
 language ; in the misfortunes of his fellows, or cruelty 
 to animals, we may at once determine the complexion 
 of his character. On the contrary, if he loves purity, 
 modesty, truth — if virtuous pursuits engage his heart 
 and draw out his affections — we are satisfied he is an 
 
CHARACTER. 601 
 
 upright man. A mind debased shrinks from associa- 
 tion with the good and wise. A writer says: "When 
 we see a young man fond of fine clothes and making a 
 fop of himself, it is a sure sign that he thinks the world 
 consists of outside show and ostentation, and he is cer- 
 tain to make an unstable man without true affection or 
 friendship, fond of change and excitement, and soon 
 wearying of those objects and pursuits, which for a 
 time give him pleasure." Human character publishes 
 itself forever more. The most fugitive deed and word, 
 the mere air of doing a thing, expresses character. 
 An ardent sensibility to the impressions of great 
 virtues and abilities, accompanied with generous obliv- 
 ion of the little imperfections with which they are 
 joined, is one of the surest indications of a superior 
 character. 
 
 We are judged usually by our public successes, by 
 the esteem of distinguished persons. But the real 
 test of character is the feeling of those before whom we 
 play no part. What does the nurse in the nursery 
 think of us, or the porter in the store, or the butcher's 
 boy? If a man's children confide in him — if all whom 
 he employs at home and in his business feel that he is 
 full of thought and sympathy for them as for brethren 
 — if those who meet him perceive the charm of his 
 urbanity, and as they draw nearer and know him bet- 
 ter, honor and love him more and more, we may be 
 very sure that he has the noblest human qualities, 
 whose influence will be a possession to us forever. In 
 trifles, infinitely clearer than great deeds, actual char- 
 acter is displayed. Yet as there are many doublings in 
 the human heart, do not think you can find out the 
 whole of a man's real character at once, unless he is a 
 fool. It has been shrewdly remarked that what per- 
 sons are by starts, they are by nature. You see them, 
 at such times, off their guard. Habit may restrain 
 vice, and virtue may be obscured by passion ; but inter- 
 vals best discover the man. 
 
 The character of the soul is determined by the char- 
 acter of its Grod. The public character of a man is the 
 
602 CHARACTER. 
 
 worn tinsel at court; his private character is the ser- 
 vice of gold kept at his banker's. He who takes his 
 character from what others say of him will be ignorant 
 of his real self, which can only be self-known. 
 
 The character of the young men of a community 
 depend much on that of the young women. If the lat- 
 ter are cultivated, intelligent and accomplished, the 
 young men will feel the requirement that they them- 
 selves should be upright, and gentlemanly, and refined; 
 but if their female firends are trifling, frivolous and 
 silly, the young men will be found to be dissipated and 
 worthless. But remember, always, that a sister is the 
 best guardian of a brother's integrity. She is the sur- 
 est inculcator of a faith in female purity and worth. 
 As a daughter, she is the true light of the home. The 
 pride of the father is often centered in his sons, but his 
 affection is expended on his daughters. She should 
 therefore be the sun and centre of all. 
 
 Your character cannot be seriously harmed, except 
 by your own acts. If anyone speaks evil of you, let 
 your life be so that none will believe him. An honest 
 blacksmith was once grossly insulted, and his character 
 infamously defamed. Friends advised him to seek 
 redress by means of the law, and obtain substantial 
 damages; but to one and all he replied, "JNTo; I will go 
 to my forge, and there in six months I shall have work- 
 ed out such a character, and earned a name, as all the 
 judges, law-courts and lawyers in the world could never 
 give me." He was right. It is by honest labor, indus- 
 trious toil, manly courage and a conscience void of 
 offense (a difficult attainment) that we assert our true 
 dignity, and prove our truth, honesty and respectabil- 
 ity. Calumny or prejudice may obscure your character 
 for a time, but in the end it will shine the brighter for 
 the clouds which obscured it. As they who, for every 
 slight infirmity, take physic to repair their health, do 
 rather impair it; so they who, for every trifle, are 
 eager to vindicate their character, do rather weaken it. 
 When you have lost money in the streets, everyone is 
 ready to help you look for it ; but when you have lost 
 
PURITY OF CHARACTER. 603 
 
 your character, everyone leaves you to recover it as 
 best you can. 
 
 The noblest contribution any man can make for the 
 benefit of posterity, is that of a good character. The 
 richest bequest which any man can leave to the youth 
 of his native land, is that of a shining and spotless 
 example. In children first, and the better sort of 
 women next, we find the purest kinds of human char- 
 acter. A character which combines the love of enjoy- 
 ment with the love of duty, and the ability to perform 
 it, is the one whose unfoldings give the* greatest prom- 
 ise of perfection. To be able to enjoy everything, and 
 yet be dependent on nothing but God for happiness, ia 
 the perfection of character. 
 
 PURITY OF CHARACTER. 
 
 Over the beauty of the plum and apricot there grows- 
 bloom more exquisite than the fruit itself — a soft, del- 
 icate blush that over-spreads its blushing cheek. Now, 
 if you strike your hand over that, and it is once gone, 
 it is gone forever, for it never grows but once. The 
 flower that hangs in the morning impearled with dew — 
 arrayed as no queenly woman was ever arrayed with 
 jewels — once shake it, so that the beads fall off, and 
 you may sprinkle water over it as you please, yet it 
 can never be made what it was when the dew fell 
 silently upon it from heaven. On a frosty morning 
 you may see the panes of glass covered with land- 
 scapes — mountains, lakes, trees — blended in a beau- 
 tiful fantastic picture. Now lay your hand upon the 
 glass, and by the scratch of your finger, or by the 
 warmth of your palm, all the delicate tracery will be 
 obliterated. So there is in youth a purity and beauty 
 of character, which, when touched and defiled, can nev- 
 er be restored — a fringe more delicate than frost-work, 
 and which, when torn and broken, will never be re-em- 
 broidered. A man who has spotted and soiled his gar- 
 
604 PURITY OF CHARACTER. 
 
 ments in youth, though he may seek to mako them 
 white again, can never wholly do it, even were he to 
 wash them with his tears. When a young man leaves 
 his father's house, with the blessing of his mother's 
 tears still wet upon his forehead, if he once loses that 
 early purity of character, it is a loss that he can never 
 make whole again. 
 
 If you look into the early years of truly helpful men, 
 those who make life easier or nobler to those who come 
 after them, you will almost invariably find that they 
 lived purely in* the days of their youth. In early life 
 the brain, though abounding in vigor, is sensitive and 
 very susceptible to injury — and this to such a degree 
 that a comparatively brief and moderate indulgence in 
 vicious pleasures appears to lower the tone and impair 
 both the delicacy and the efficiency of the brain for life. 
 This is not preaching, but the simple truth of science. 
 
 Groethe was in company with a mother and daughter, 
 when the latter, being reproved for something, blushed 
 and burst into tears. He said to the mother: "How 
 beautiful your reproach has made your daughter! The 
 crimson hue and those silvery tears become her much 
 better than any ornament of gold or pearls ; those may 
 be hung on the neck of any woman, these are never 
 seen unconnected with moral purity. A full blown 
 flower, sprinkled with purest hue, is not so beautiful as 
 this child, blushing beneath her parent's displeasure, 
 and shedding tears of sorrow for her fault. A blush is 
 a sign which nature hangs out to show where chastity 
 and honor dwell." 
 
 When we clothe ourselves in clean and beautiful gar- 
 ments, we feel that we are too good or too beautifully 
 dressed to wear our delicate and costly draperies where 
 they will become blackened, spotted and spoiled by con- 
 tact with anything that might soil them. And we 
 ought to be just as careful to keep ourselves, our hearts 
 from being tarnished and soiled by the touch of evil 
 thoughts and language. We forget too often that our 
 hearts are of more value than the most delicate and 
 gorgeous wrappings that can add beauty or grace to our 
 
EXAMPLE. 605 
 
 faces or forms, and that every impure word or even; 
 thought will tarnish the spirit gem that should be kept 
 so pure and bright, chaste and transparent in its spark- 
 ling lustre. 
 
 No pure-minded person will give utterance to low 
 and vulgar jests, or by coarse innuendo throw such a 
 construction upon the words of others. Such things 
 only betray the grossness of the heart within. If we 
 do no worse things, and yet indulge in these habits, we 
 have a great influence for evil, a fearful account treas- 
 ured up somewhere against us. Perhaps the outcast 
 may lay her sin at this door. Ah, if we have the lives 
 and characters of others in our keeping, if our words 
 are to shape their destinies, then indeed we have need 
 to pray for a pure heart and clean lips. 
 
 There are souls which fall from heaven like flowers ; 
 but ere the pure and fresh buds can open, they are trod- 
 den in the dust of the earth, and lie soiled and crushed 
 under the foul tread of some brutal hoof. 
 
 Purity has its seat in the heart, but extends its in- 
 fluence over so much of the outward conduct, as to form 
 the great and material part of character. Be pure but 
 not stern, have moral excellencies, but don't bristle 
 with them. "Unto the pure all things are pure: but 
 unto them that are defiled and unbelieving is nothing 
 pure; but even their mind and conscience is defiled." 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 One watch kept right will do to try many by ; but on 
 the other hand, one that goes wrong may be the means 
 of misleading a whole neighborhood ; and the same 
 may be said of the example we individually set those 
 around us. We do not want precepts so much as pat- 
 terns. Precept is instruction written in the sand — the 
 tide flows over it, and the record is gone. Example is 
 engraven on the rock, and the lesson is not soon lost.. 
 Says Cecil, "Example is more forcible than precept.. 
 
606 EXAMPLE. 
 
 My people look, at me six clays in the week, to see 
 what I mean on the seventh." He who teaches relig- 
 ion without exemplifying it, loses the advantage of its 
 best argument. He that would reprove the world, 
 must be one whom the world cannot reprove. Exam- 
 ple is the softest and least invidious way of command- 
 ing, says Pliny. Good examples amongst rulers are 
 the best laws they can enact. He who has left to the 
 world the record of a noble life, though he may have 
 left no outward memorial, has left an enduring source 
 of greatness. 
 
 If we are good, example is the best lxistre of virtue ; 
 if we are bad, shame is the best step to amendment. 
 Examples do not authorize a fault. Vice must never 
 plead prescription. 
 
 Let parents understand that your children will be 
 more animated to vigorous perseverance, and self-de- 
 pendence, the more they witness your exertions to 
 provide for your future welfare. There are few who 
 can witness the daily display of parental and provident 
 care, without having the desire created within them of 
 doing something for themselves. "A thrifty father," 
 says a Hindoo proverb, "may have an extravagant son, 
 but a diligent father rarely has an idle son." Some 
 one says truly that the best way for a man to train up 
 a child in the way it should go is to travel that way 
 himself sometimes. A lady once saw a little boy play- 
 ing with a pipe, and said to him, "When you get to be 
 a man, you won't smoke, will you?" "Yes, I will," 
 answered the boy, "Smoke and chew too; father does." 
 Fathers, do you hear that ? A little girl, not six years 
 of age, screamed out to her little brother who was play- 
 ing in the mud: "Bob, you good-for-nothing rascal, come 
 into the house this minute, or I'll beat you till your 
 skin comes off." "Why, Angelina, dear, what do you 
 mean?" Exclaimed the mortified mother, who stood 
 talking with a friend. Angelina's childish reply was 
 a good commentary upon this manner of speaking to 
 children: "Why, mother, you see we were playing, and 
 he's my little boy, and I'm scolding him just as you 
 
EXAMPLE. 607 
 
 did me this morning. " Three little girls were playing 
 among the poppies and sage bushes of the back yard. 
 Two of them were * 'making believe' ' keep house, a lit- 
 tle way apart, as near neighbors might. One was over- 
 heard saying to the youngest of them, "There, now, you 
 go over to Sarah's house and stop there a little while, 
 and talk as fast as ever you can, and then you come 
 back and tell me what she says about me, and then I'll 
 talk about her; and then you will go and tell her all I 
 say, and then we'll get as mad as hornets, and wont 
 speak when we meet; just as our mothers do, you know; 
 and that'll be such fun, wont it ? " Hadn't these little 
 mischiefs lived to some purpose ; and were they not 
 close observers and apt scholars, charmingly trained 
 for the chief business of life in a small neighborhood ? 
 
 Example has a deep and lasting influence upon the 
 lives of all. It is a living lesson always before us, 
 which is constantly influencing us for good or evil. 
 Every action is a word, for actions speak as well as 
 words, and often have a stronger import. Every 
 thought, word, act, and even look of our's, is helping to 
 build up the characters of those around us into monu- 
 ments of everlasting beauty or deformity. And thus 
 upon our actions in this world there rests no slight re- 
 sponsibility. 
 
 It is easy to preach and talk of obligations which we 
 are under to do justly and walk humbly, but it is alto- 
 gether a different thing to be exemplary. And though 
 the former be useful, how much more valuable and 
 effective is the latter. What are the most beautiful 
 essays on the cardinal virtues compared with the excel- 
 lence of the life in which these have a living and vital 
 existence? It was not alone the doctrines, advanced 
 with the persuasive eloquence of our Savior; these were 
 rendered doubly effective by the example which he set 
 at all times, even under the most trying circumstances. 
 
 Men will preach, and the world will listen, but profit 
 comes by example. A parent inculcates gentleness to 
 his children by many sound precepts, but they see him 
 treat those in his employ, or even the beast he owns, in 
 
608 EXAMPLE. 
 
 a rude manner, and, as a consequence, his instructions 
 are neither heeded nor respected. His example* as a 
 gentle and humane man would have been perhaps suffi- 
 cient for his children without one word of command. 
 Men are just like children in this respect, and imitate 
 a good example — while good words, no matter how 
 good and true, without such example, will pass into one 
 ear and out of the other. Let us have all the good 
 preaching and talking we can, but set an example of 
 duty and right if you would save your children and 
 exert a sound influence upon your neighbors. 
 
 While men generally are more drawn to the paths 
 of virtue by the influence of good example than even 
 by the best system of rules, yet it is wise to follow the 
 advice rather than imitate the example of our friends ; 
 for whatever their standard of excellence may be, their 
 practice is too apt to fall far below it. 
 
 Example does not perish at the grave. 
 
 "We scatter seeds with careless hand, 
 
 And dream we ne'er shall see them more ; 
 But for a thousand years, 
 Their fruit appears, 
 In weeds that mar the land, 
 Or healthful store. 
 
 "The deeds we do, the words we say, — 
 Into still air they seem to fleet, 
 We count them ever past ; 
 But they shall last,— 
 In the dread judgment they 
 And we shall meet ! 
 
 "I charge thee by the years gone by, 
 For the love's sake of brethren dear, 
 Keep thou the one true way, 
 In work and play, 
 Lest in that world their cry 
 Of-woe-thou hear." 
 
INFLUENCE. 
 
 No man, however isolated may be his position, is 
 entirely devoid of influence for good or evil in the world, 
 and the responsibilities which rest upon him should not 
 be disregarded. It is not by great deeds like those of the 
 martyrs, that good is to be done; it is by the daily and 
 quiet virtues of life — the Christian temper, the meek for- 
 bearance, the spirit of forgiveness in the husband, the 
 wife, the father, the mother, the brother, the sister, the 
 friend, the neighbor, that it is to be done. It is the bub- 
 ling stream that flows gently," says the Rev. Albert Bar- 
 nes, "the little rivulet which runs along day and night 
 by the farmhouse, that is useful, rather than the swollen 
 flood or warring cataract. Niagara excites our wonder, 
 and we stand in silence amazed at the power and great- 
 ness of God there, as he pours out from the hollow of his 
 hand. But one Niagara is enough for the continent or 
 the world, while the same world requires thousands and 
 tens of thousands of silver fountains and gently flowing 
 rivulets that water every farm and meadow, and every 
 garden, and shall flow on every day and night with their 
 gentle quiet beauty. So with the acts of our lives." 
 
 Away among the Alleghanies there is a spring, so small 
 that a single ox could drain it dry on a summer day. It 
 steals its unobtrusive way among the hills till it spreads 
 out in the beautiful Ohio. Thence it stretches away a 
 thousand miles, leaving on its banks hundreds of villages, 
 and bearing on its bosom more than a thousand steam- 
 boats. Then joining the Mississippi, it stretches away 
 some twelve hundred miles more till it falls in the great 
 emblem of eternity. It is one of the greatest tributaries 
 to the ocean, which, obedient only to God, shall roll and 
 roar until the angel with one foot on the sea, and the 
 other on the land, shall lift up his hand to heaven and 
 swear that time shall be no longer. So with moral influ- 
 
610 INFLUENCE. 
 
 ence. It is the rill — the rivulet — the ocean, boundless 
 and fathomless as eternity. 
 
 What a difficult thing it would be to sit down and try 
 to enumerate the different influences by which our lives 
 have been affected — influences of other lives, of art, of 
 nature, of place and circumstance — of beautiful sights 
 passing before our eyes, or painful ones ; seasons following 
 in their course — hills rising on our horizons — scenes of 
 ruin and desolation — crowded thoroughfares — sounds in 
 our ears, jarring or harmonious — the voices of friends, 
 calling, warning, encouraging — of preachers preaching — 
 of people in the street below, complaining and asking our 
 pity ! 
 
 Blessed influence of one true soul upon another ! Not 
 calculable by algebra, not deducible by logic — but mys- 
 terious, effectual, mighty as the hidden process by which 
 the tiny seed is quickened, and bursts forth into tall stem, 
 and broad leaf, and glowing tasseled flower. Ideas are 
 often poor ghosts; our sun-filled eyes cannot discern 
 them; they pass athwart us in thin vapor, and cannot 
 make themselves felt. But sometimes they are made of 
 flesh; they touch us with soft, responsive hands; they 
 look at us with sad, sincere eyes, and speak to us in 
 appealing tones ; they are clothed in a living human soul, 
 with all its conflicts, its faith, and its love. Then their 
 presence is a power, then they shake us like a passion, 
 and we are drawn after them with a gentle compulsion, 
 as flame is drawn to flame. 
 
 A gentleman lecturing in the neighborhood of London 
 said : " Everybody has influence, even that child," points 
 ing to a little girl in her father's arms. " That's true," 
 cried the man. At the close he said to the lecturer : " I 
 beg your pardon, sir, but I could not help speaking. I 
 was a drunkard ; but as I did not like to go to the public 
 house alone, I used to carry this child. As I approached 
 the public house one night, hearing a great noise inside, 
 she said : 6 Don't go, father ! ' Hold your tongue, child ! 
 ' Please, father, don't go.' Hold your tongue, I said. 
 Presently a big tear fell on my cheek. I could not go 
 a step further, sir. I turned around and went home, and 
 
ACTIONS. 611 
 
 have never been in a public house since — thank God for 
 it ! I am now a happy man, sir, and this little girl has 
 done it all ; and when you said that even she had influ- 
 ence, I could not help saying, as I did : ' That's true sir ! ' 
 All have influence." 
 
 ACTIONS. 
 
 It is not enough that we wish well to others. Our 
 feelings should clothe themselves with corresponding ac- 
 tions. The spring which has no outlet becomes a stag- 
 nant pool ; while that which pours itself off in the run- 
 ning stream, is pure and living, and is the cause of life 
 and beauty wherever it flows. Let thy actions prove 
 that thou art a man in the highest and holiest sense of the 
 exalted name. Govern thy life and thoughts, as if the 
 whole world were to see the one and read the other. The 
 pleasure of doing good is the only thing that never wears 
 out. 
 
 Our actions should be such only as our enemies would 
 never allude to. Say but little — think much and do 
 more. Let it be seen and felt that your aim is to be — 
 and not to seem to be. Would you be exempt from un- 
 easiness, do nothing you know or suspect to be wrong; 
 and if you want to enjoy the purest pleasure, do every- 
 thing in your power that you are convinced is right. 
 Weigh every step that you are about to take, whenever 
 passions become involved. Often things assume a differ- 
 ent aspect when they are fairly considered. Nobody is 
 apt to see an action as very wrong when under the ex- 
 citement of doing it. 
 
 We often censure the conduct of others, when, under 
 the same circumstances, we might not have acted half as 
 well. Men often blush to hear of what they were not 
 ashamed to act ; and would often be ashamed of their best 
 actions if the world knew the real motives which produc- 
 ed them. Many actions, like the Rhone, have two sour- 
 ces — one pure, the other impure. 
 
612 ACTIONS. 
 
 We may do a very good action and not be a good man, 
 but we cannot do a very ill one and not be an ill man. 
 Avoid that which you blame in others. Never take part 
 in a design which is not fully explained to you. The 
 part concealed or kept back may contain the danger, and 
 it is unsafe to enter a path which leads you know not 
 whither, and may lead to destruction. 
 
 If you afflict a man because he has afflicted you, the ob- 
 ject is revenge or retaliation ; the motive is low and despic- 
 able, and neither party is improved or corrected by the pun- 
 ishment. Never do that in prosperity wherof you may 
 repent in adversity. Whenever you doubt whether an 
 intended action be good or bad, abstain from it. To ad- 
 journ a bad action is to begin it. Did you ever do any- 
 thing wrong, without, sooner or later, being in fear, shame, 
 or sorrow on account thereof? 
 
 He who by his conduct makes good friends on the one 
 hand, and bitter haters on the other, gives evidence that 
 there is something of the bold, independent, upright man 
 in his composition; while the chicken-hearted, imbecile 
 character, is capable of making neither friends nor foes. 
 It is often extremely difficult, in the mixed things of this 
 world, to act truly and kindly too ; but therein lies one 
 of the great trials of man — that his sincerity should have 
 kindness in it, and his kindness truth. An act by which 
 we make one friend and one enemy, is a losing game ; 
 because revenge is a much stronger principle than grati- 
 tude. 
 
 Our deeds are often better than our thoughts. What 
 we are afraid to do before men, we should be afraid to 
 think before God. Always act as if you believed God 
 was present, and that you must give an account to him. 
 Thackeray says, "We do a thing — which of us has not? 
 — not because everybody does it, but because we like it, 
 and our acquiescence, alas ! proves not that everybody is 
 right, but that we and the rest of the world are poor crea- 
 tures alike." It is often difficult to determine whether 
 an apparently open, sincere, and virtuous action is the re- 
 sult of probity or artfulness — the actor is probably to-day 
 what he was yesterday, or a week or a year since ; the 
 
ACTIONS. 613 
 
 quality of a present act is to be very much determined by 
 the quality of its antecedents. 
 
 "Our deeds are like children that are born to us," says 
 George Eliot ; " they live and act apart from our own will. 
 Nay, children may be strangled, but deeds never ; they 
 have an indestructible life both in and out of our con- 
 sciousness." With a double vigilance should we watch 
 our actions when we reflect that good and bad ones are 
 never childless, and that in both cases, the offspring goes 
 beyond the parent, every good begetting a better, every 
 bad a worse. 
 
 Every man's actions form a center of influence upon 
 others ; and every deed, however trivial has some weight 
 in determining the future destiny of the world. A good 
 action performed in this world receives its recompense in 
 the other, just as water poured at the root of a tree, ap- 
 pears again above in fruit and flowers. 
 
 Consider the cause of the good standing of some, and 
 the decline and fall, and want of success of others, and 
 regulate your conduct accordingly. Every act tells one 
 way or another as an ordinance — either putting us in 
 communication with God or the devil. Follow your in- 
 ward instincts, and do nothing merely because folks ex- 
 pect it of you, or your situation demands it. 
 
 If you are a wise man, you will treat the world as the 
 moon treats it ; show it only one side of yourself, seldom 
 show too much of yourself at a time, and let what you 
 show be calm, cool, and polished. But look at every-side 
 of the world. Act uprightly and fearlessly, and you may 
 defy the devil's machinations. Think before acting. 
 Impromptu deeds are often as miserable as impromptu 
 verses. Some do first, think afterwards, and repent for- 
 ever. 
 
 Amos Lawrence said, when asked for advice : " Young 
 man, base all your actions upon a principle ; preserve 
 your integrity of character, and in doing this never reckon 
 the cost." Practice flows from principle, for as a man 
 thinks, so he will act. Yet it is much easier to think right 
 without doing right, than to do right without thinking 
 right. Just thoughts may, and often do, fail of producing 
 
614 ACTIONS. 
 
 just deeds, but just deeds are sure to beget just thoughts. 
 Such as thy words are, such will thy affections be esteem- 
 ed; and such will thy deeds as thy affections, and such 
 thy life as thy deeds. 
 
 Neither a single bad action, nor single bad habit ought 
 to comdemn a man, for he himself may hate the one, and 
 may be trying to get rid of the other all his life. Casual 
 omissions, and little sallies of heat or liberty should go 
 for nothing. 
 
 The merit of our actions consists not in doing extraor- 
 dinary actions, but in doing ordinary actions extraordinar- 
 ily well. Said Albert Barnes : "It is by the daily, quiet 
 acts of our life that good is done, and not by a few great 
 spasmodic efforts." He who waits to do a great deal of 
 good at once, will rarely do anything. True greatness 
 consists in being great in little things. If we would do 
 much good in the world, we must be willing to do good 
 in little things, setting a good example all the time. The 
 actions of men are like the index of a book ; they point 
 out what is most remarkable in them. 
 
 We should always rest satisfied with doing well, let 
 others say what they please. Which will you do, good 
 or evil ? If you do good forget it ; if evil, remember and 
 repent of it. If good is done to you, you should never 
 forget it ; if evil, you should never remember it. If you 
 have performed an act of disinterested virtue, conceal it ; 
 if you publish it, you will neither be believed here, nor 
 rewarded hereafter. 
 
 However much we may have accomplished through a 
 long life of active and unremitted toil, when we come to 
 reach its closing scene, our labors will then appear to us 
 but trifling and insignificant; for they are about to be 
 weighed in the scales of a boundless and mysterious 
 Eternity. 
 
 Whoever would oblige himself to tell all that he has 
 done, would oblige himself to do nothing that he would 
 be anxious to conceal. 
 
 Man's deeds are of an imperishable character. Not 
 only are they recorded in the book of Divine remem- 
 brance, but it is more than possible that every action pro- 
 
ACTIONS. 615 
 
 duces an abiding impression on the globe we inhabit. 
 
 "The spoken word, the written poem," says Carlyle, 
 " is said to be an epitome of the man ; how much more 
 the done work. Whatsoever of morality and of intelli- 
 gence; what of patience, perseverance, faithfulness, of 
 method, insight, ingenuity, energy; in a word, whatso- 
 ever of strength the man had in him will lie written in 
 the work he does. Great honor to him whose epic is a 
 melodious hexameter Iliad. But still greater honor, if 
 his epic be a mighty empire slowly built together, a 
 mighty series of heroic deeds — a mighty conquest over 
 chaos. There is no mistaking this latter epic. Deeds 
 are greater than words. Deeds have such a life, mute 
 but undeniable, and grow as living trees do ; they people 
 the vacuity of time, and make it green and worthy." 
 
 When Dr. Chalmers was executing his plan of estab- 
 lishing parochial schools in Glasgow, he called on Dr. 
 Taylor in order to purchase the site. He expressed his 
 hope of obtaining it on reasonable terms, in consequence 
 of the novelty and importance of the undertaking. 
 " The undertaking," said Dr. Taylor, " is an important 
 one, but it is not a new one. We have been talking for 
 twenty years of establishing parochial schools in Glas- 
 gow." " Yes," said Dr. Chalmers, " but how many more 
 years do you intend to talk about it ? Now we are going 
 to do the thing, and not talk about it ; and so you must 
 even let the price be as moderate as possible, seeing we 
 are going to take the labor of talking and projecting en- 
 tirely off your hands." There is a great difference 
 between talking and doing, though all men do not seem 
 to be aware of it. In the above case more was accom- 
 plished by the latter in six months, than by the former 
 in twenty years. Many persons would be greatly profit- 
 ed by exchanging talking for doing. Deeds are fruits ; 
 words are but leaves. 
 
 In divine account, a man knows no more than he doeth. 
 Good actions are the best preachers. Some one, feeling 
 that actions are better than words, has said : " We read 
 of the Acts of the Apostles, but never of their resolutions." 
 The life of good men, and not the library of theologians. 
 
616 ORDER. 
 
 is the converting power. An example bears to a precept 
 the same sort of a relation as a picture to a description. 
 
 The memory of good actions is the starlight of the 
 soul. Brave actions are the substance of life, and good 
 sayings the ornament of it. 
 
 The everlasting hills will crumble to dust, but the in- 
 fluence of a good act will never die. The earth will grow 
 old and perish, but virtue in the heart will be ever green, 
 and flourish throughout eternity. The moon and stars 
 will grow dim, and the sun roll from the heavens, but 
 true religion and undefiled will grow brighter and bright- 
 er, and not cease to exist while God himself shall live. 
 
 Do little things as if they were great, because of the 
 majesty of the Lord Jesus Christ who dwells in thee; 
 and do great things as if they were little and easy, be- 
 cause of his omnipotence. 
 
 Whene'er a noble deed is wrought, 
 Whene'er is spoke a noble thought, 
 
 Our hearts in glad surprise 
 
 To higher levels rise. 
 
 Honor to those whose words or deeds 
 
 Thus help us in our daily needs, 
 And by their overflow 
 Baise us from what is low. — Longfellow. 
 
 ORDER. 
 
 He who performs every employment in its due place 
 and season, suffers no part of time to escape without profit ; 
 and thus his days become multiplied, and much of life is 
 enjoyed in little space. Order and method render all 
 things easier. Order is of universal importance. 
 
 Work never killed or hurt any one who knew how to 
 go at it. See what order there is in nature — what sub- 
 limity and ease ! How still, yet how rapid the growth 
 of the plant. How peacefully the stars of midnight seem 
 encamped, yet before morning whole armies of these won- 
 derful balls of earth have been carried out of our sight. 
 So much is achieved, because all is done in order, at the 
 
ORDER. 617 
 
 right time, intently, deliberately, yet without hesitation, 
 friction, or indecision. 
 
 Said the distinguished Lord Chatham to his son, "I 
 would have inscribed on the curtains of your chamber, 
 'If you do not rise early, you can make progress in noth- 
 ing. If you do not set apart your hours of reading, if 
 you suffer yourself or anyone else to break in upon them, 
 your days will slip through your hands unprofitable and 
 frivolous, and unenjoyed by yourself " 
 
 Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, in a recent lecture in Eng- 
 land, said : Many persons seeing me so much engaged 
 in active life, and as much about the world as if I had 
 never been a student, have said to me, " Where do you 
 get time to write all vour books ? How on earth do you 
 contrive to do so much? " I shall surprise you by the an- 
 swer I make. The answer is this : " I contrive to do so 
 much by never doing too much at a time. A man, to get 
 through well, must not over-work himself; or if he do too 
 much work to-day. the reaction of fatigue will come, and 
 he will be obliged to do too little to-morrow. Now, since 
 I began really and earnestly to study, which was not till I 
 had left college, and was actually in the world, I may 
 perhaps say that I have gone through as large a course of 
 reading as most men of my time. I have travelled much, 
 and have seen much ; I have mixed much in politics, and 
 the various businesses of life ; and in addition to all this, 
 I have published somewhere about sixty volumes — some 
 upon subjects requiring much research. And what time 
 do you think, as a general rule, I have devoted to study — 
 to reading and writing ? Not more than three hours a 
 day ; and when Parliament is sitting, not always that. 
 But then, during these hours, I have given my whole 
 attention to what I was about." 
 
 Frederick Kapp wrote from Germany, that when the 
 German troops moved toward the frontier, everything 
 was ready for battle; the smallest strap of the knapsack, 
 and the last button on the coat of the steward, were in 
 their places. The service of forwarding troops was done 
 with wonderful promptitude and exactness. On coming 
 to Cologne from Berlin, I counted sixty-three military 
 
618 ENERGY. 
 
 trains, each of which contained about one thousand men. 
 Not one train was behind time. The spirit of punctu- 
 ality and strict obedience to the orders of his superior has 
 been inculcated into every Prussian and North German 
 from his earliest youth. All classes of society were rep- 
 resented. 
 
 Order is a necessary element in the success of every 
 man, but in no class is its strict observance more requisite 
 than with the husbandman. Show us a farmer who is 
 orderly in the location, management, construction, preser- 
 vation of his buildings, in the erection and maintenance 
 of his fences, in division of his farm into lots, in the selec- 
 tion, planting, and care of his fruit trees, in the prepara- 
 tion and cultivation of his soil, and the putting in of his 
 seed, in the rotation of his crops, in the management of 
 his stock, in the purchase and care of his farming imple- 
 ments, in the curing and marketing of his products, in 
 the preparation of his fuel ; in short, one who is governed 
 by these rules — " A time for everything, and everything 
 in its time " — " A place for everything, and everything 
 in its place," — and we will show you an intelligent, suc- 
 cessful, prosperous and happy man. 
 
 "Order is heaven's first law," regularity is nature's 
 great rule ; hence, regularity in eating, sleeping and exer- 
 cise, has a very large share in securing a long, and 
 healthful, and prosperous, and happy life. 
 
 ENEKGY. 
 
 There is no quality of mind, the lack of which will 
 exert a greater influence over the fortune and ultimate 
 prosperity of a person, than that of energy. Energy 
 makes a man powerful — the lack thereof makes him an 
 automaton. It is to man what steam is to the engine — 
 it furnishes the impelling power which enables its pos- 
 sessor to overcome opposition, remove obstacles, and force 
 a passage through barriers. Without steam, the engine, 
 however complete may be its adaptation, however perfect 
 
ENERGY. 619 
 
 its construction, is but an inert mass of cold iron. Thus 
 with man, however splendid may be his genius — brilliant 
 his talents, and profound his intellect — if devoid of 
 energy, he is like a statue of lifeless stone ; his powers, 
 though transcendent, are latent and comparatively use- 
 less to the world. 
 
 Indomitable resolution is the solution of the great 
 problem of individual and national prosperity. Energy is 
 the wand of a mighty magic — a talisman at whose touch 
 difficulties vanish like frost-work in the rays of the sun. 
 By its aid all the mighty transformations from barbarism 
 to civilization have been effected. Upon it depends the 
 progress of every age. 
 
 Too many are mere servants of others. Too many de- 
 pend upon the wealthy, and gather the crumbs which fall 
 from their tables. Seekers of office and beggars for places 
 swarm like leaves in autumn. Energy is a priceless- 
 pearl, and to none is it of more value than to the young. 
 Energy is almost everything. How mean a thing is a 
 man with little motive power ! All the abilities nature 
 has given him lie useless. More fail for the want of 
 energy, than for the want of ability. 
 
 It is the energy of the will that is the soul of the intel- 
 lect ; wherever it is there is life ; where it is not all is 
 dullness, and despondency, and desolation. Some suppose 
 that violence is energy. Violence is not necessary to 
 energy any more than tyranny is to kingship; on the 
 contrary, the gentlest energy does the most work. 
 Energy, literally from the Greek, is inward-workingness ; 
 the blooming of the flower is energy, the increase of fruit 
 is energy, the growth of the body is energy — ■ yet in all 
 these there is no violence ; the efficacy is not destructive, 
 but vital ; without it, the whole frame must fall at once 
 into corruption; with it, instead of corruption, we have 
 life. 
 
 I lately happened to notice, with some surprise, an ivy, 
 which, being prevented from attaching itself to the rock 
 beyond a certain point, had shot off into a bold, elastic: 
 stem, with an air of as much independence as any branch 
 of oak in the vicinity. So a human being thrown, 
 
620 ENERGY. 
 
 whether bj cruelty, justice, or accident, from all social 
 support and kindness, if he has any vigor of spirit, and is 
 not in the bodily debility of childhood or age, will 
 instantly begin to act for himself, with a resolution which 
 will appear like a new faculty. 
 
 A man may possess a high degree of refinement, large 
 stores of knowledge, and even a well disciplined mind; 
 but if he is destitute of energy, or resolution of soul, he is 
 like a watch without a main-spring — beautiful, but 
 inefficient, and unfit for service. That employment, 
 upon which is stamped the impress of a living and ener- 
 getic soul, will do honor to any man, in any place, or in 
 any age. Bonaparte, being told on the eve of battle that 
 circumstances were against him, replied — "Circum- 
 stances ! I make or control circumstances, not bow to 
 them." 
 
 It was Goethe that said this beautiful thing : " The 
 longer I live, the more certain I am that the great differ- 
 ence between men, the great and insignificant, is energv, 
 invincible determination — an honest purpose once fixed, 
 and then victory. That quality will do anything that can 
 be done in the world, and no circumstance, no opportu- 
 nity, will make a two-legged creature a man without it." 
 
 " I have lived long enough to know," says Adam Clarke, 
 "that the greatest secret of human happiness is this: 
 Never suffer your energies to stagnate. There is no 
 genius of life, like the genius of energy and industry. 
 All the traditions current among very young men that 
 certain great characters have wrought their greatness, by 
 an inspiration, as it were, grows out of a sad mistake. 
 There are no rivals so formidable as those earnest, deter- 
 mined minds, which reckon the value of every hour, and 
 which achieve eminence by persistent application." 
 
 That most excellent writer, Samuel Smiles, says, that 
 " the difference between one boy and another consists not 
 so much in talent as in energy. Provided the dunce has 
 persistency and application, he will inevitably head the 
 cleverer fellow without these qualities. Slow but sure, 
 wins the race. It is perseverance that explains how the 
 position of boys at school is often reversed in real life ; 
 
ENERGY. 621 
 
 and it is curious to note how some who were then so 
 clever have since become so common-place ; whilst 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. And he adds, that, when a boy, he 
 stood in the same class with one of the greatest of dunces. 
 One teacher after another had tried his skill upon him 
 and failed. Corporeal punishment, the fool's cap, coax- 
 ing, and earnest entreaty, proved alike fruitless. Some- 
 times the experiment was tried of putting him at the top 
 of his class, and it was curious to note the rapidity with 
 which he gravitated to the inevitable bottom, tike a lump 
 of lead passing through quicksilver. The youth was 
 given up by many teachers as an incorrigible dunce, — 
 one of them pronouncing him to be ' a stupendous booby.' 
 Yet, slow though he was, this dunce had a dull energy 
 and a sort of beefy tenacity of purpose, which grew with 
 his muscles and his manhood; and, strange to say, when 
 he at length came to take part in the practical business 
 of life, he was found heading most of his school compan- 
 ions, and eventually left the greater number of them far 
 behind. 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 quite 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 formation of 
 every character. Davy said, 4 What I am, I have made 
 myself; ' and the same holds true universally. The 
 highest culture is not obtained from teachers when at 
 school or college, so much as by our own diligent self-edu- 
 cation when we have become men. 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 
 
'622 ENERGY. 
 
 road of self-culture ; carefully train his habits of applica- 
 tion and perseverance ; and as he grows older, if the right 
 stuff be in him, he will be enabled vigorously and effect- 
 ively to cultivate himself." 
 
 It is a proverb that, "He who has heart has 
 everything; and who doth not burn doth not inflame. 
 It is astonishing how much may be accomplished in self- 
 culture by the energetic and the persevering, who are care- 
 ful to avail themselves of opportunities, and use up the frag- 
 ments of spare time which the idle permit to run to waste. 
 In study, as in business, energy is the great thing. We 
 must not only strike the iron while it is hot, but strike it 
 till it is made hot." 
 
 Give us not men like weathercocks that change with 
 every wind, but. men like mountains, who change the 
 winds themselves. There is always room for a man of 
 force, and he makes room for many. You can not dream 
 yourself into a character; you must hammer and forge 
 yourself one. Therefore don't live in hope with your 
 arms folded ; fortune smiles on those who roll up their 
 sleeves, and put their shoulders to the wheel. "I can't! 
 — it is impossible! " said a foiled lieutenant to Alexander. 
 "Begone ! " shouted the conquering Macedonian in reply — 
 "there is nothing impossible to him who will try;" and 
 to make good his words, the haughty warrior, not yet 
 come to weep that there were no more worlds to subdue, 
 charged with a phalanx the rock-crested fortress that had 
 defied his timid subaltern, and the foe were swept down 
 as with the besom of destruction. 
 
 The greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising 
 every time we fall. There is a famous speech recorded of 
 an old Norseman, thoroughly characteristic of the Teuton : 
 " I believe neither in idols nor demons," said he, " I put 
 my sole trust . in my own strength of body and soul." 
 The ancient crest of a pickax, with the motto of " Either 
 I will find a way or make one," was an expression of the 
 same sturdy independence and practical materialism, 
 which to this day distinguishes the descendants of the 
 Northmen. Indeed, nothing could be more character- 
 istic of the Scandinavian mythology than that it had a god 
 
PERSEVERANCE. 623 
 
 with a hammer. A man's character is seen in small 
 matters ; and from even so slight a test as the mode in 
 which a man wields a hammer, his energy may in some 
 measure be inferred. Thus, an eminent Frenchman hit 
 off in a single phrase the characteristic quality of the 
 inhabitants of a particular district, in which a friend of 
 his proposed to settle and buy land. " Beware," said he, 
 " of making a purchase there ; I know the men of that 
 department ; the pupils who come from it to our veterin- 
 ary school at Paris, do not strike hard upon the anvil; 
 they want energy ; and you will not get a satisfactory 
 return on any capital you may invest there." A fine and 
 just appreciation of character, indicating the accurate and 
 thoughtful observer; and strikingly illustrative of the 
 fact that it is the energy of the individual men that gives 
 strength to a state, and confers a value even upon the 
 very soil which they cultivate. The cultivation of this 
 quality is of the greatest importance, resolute determina- 
 tion in the pursuit of worthy objects being the foundation 
 of all true greatness of character. 
 
 PERSEVERANCE. 
 
 There are two ways of attaining an important end : 
 force and perseverance. Force falls to the lot of only the 
 privileged few, but austere and sustained perseverance can 
 be practiced by the most insignificant. Its silent power 
 grows irresistible with time. All men who have suc- 
 ceeded in life have been men of high resolve and enduring 
 perseverance. Great works are executed not by force, 
 but by perseverance. Thoughtful teachers always care- 
 fully inculcate this maxim, that inconstancy is imbecility, 
 and that perseverance is necessary to insure success. 
 Patience is good, but perseverance is much better. Per- 
 severance always conquers. It is the best school for 
 every manly virtue. What man has done, man can do. 
 He who gives up is soon given up ; and to consider our- 
 
624 PERSEVERANCE. 
 
 selves of no use, is the almost certain way to become use- 
 less. 
 
 " Attempt to the end, and never stand to doubt, 
 Nothing so hard but search will find it out." 
 
 Other virtues merit a crown ; but perseverance alone is 
 crowned. The policy that can strike only while the iron 
 is hot, will be overcome by the perseverance that can 
 make the iron hot by striking. 
 
 Nothing in this life is to be done without the staunch- 
 est perseverance ; but then it must be by good- will. If a. 
 seaman should put about every time he encounters a 
 head-wind, he certainly would be a long time in making 
 a voyage. So he who permits himself to be baffled by 
 adverse circumstances, will never make headway in the 
 voyage of life. A sailor uses every wind to propel ; so 
 should the young man learn to trim his sails and guide 
 his bark, that even the adverse gales should fill its belay- 
 ing canvas, and send it forward on its onward course. 
 
 It was not the magnitude of the Grecian army, nor the 
 martial skill of Achilles, their leader, that conquered the 
 city of Troy, but ten years perseverance. Demosthenes 
 became the first orator of Greece — if not of the world — 
 by persevering in the struggle to master his naturally 
 stammering tongue. Perseverance is alone the touch- 
 stone of human capacity. No man fully knows what m 
 in him until he tries, and tries again and again. 
 
 Cobbett was in prison and past middle age when it 
 occurred to him to write a grammar, though he had 
 scarcely studied one. Indomitable will and perseverance 
 carried him bravely through the project. Perseverance 
 goes hand in hand with conquest — whether it be in 
 science, art, discovery, or the acquirement of fame and 
 fortune. And what is true of the more notable men, is 
 true in a degree of every man. Perseverance rewards 
 the farmer and the mechanic, as well as the student and 
 the explorer. It fishes truth from the bottom of the well 
 — if so be it lies there — and it fishes the diamond from 
 the bottom of the mine. There is no good thing accom- 
 plished without a great deal of patience and perseverance. 
 There is nothing like a fixed, steady aim, with an honor- 
 
PERSEVERANCE. 625 
 
 able purpose. What you attempt, do it with all your 
 strength. Determination is omnipotent. If the prospect 
 be somewhat darkened, put the fire of resolution to your 
 soul, and kindle a flame that nothing but the strong arm 
 of death can extinguish. 
 
 Stick to the business in which you are regularly em- 
 ployed. Let speculators make their thousands in a year 
 or day ; mind your own regular trade, never turning 
 from it to the right hand or the left. If you are a mer- 
 chant, a professional man, or a mechanic, never buy lots 
 or stocks unless you have surplus money which you wish 
 to invest. Your own business you understand as well as 
 other men ; but other people's business you do not under- 
 stand. Follow up your proper line of business year after 
 year, turning neither to the right hand nor the left in 
 pursuit of speculative advantages. " To depart from reg- 
 ular business is to lose money.' , No maxim of life is 
 more strictly true. Let him that knows but little of his 
 profession keep to what he knows best ; for if he be not 
 reckoned dexterous in it, he will at least be counted solid. 
 Perseverance, if not a mark of genius, is at least one of 
 its practical adjuncts. "Did you ever know anybody," 
 asks Joseph C. Neal, " to stick to any kind of business, 
 no matter how unpromising it might be in the beginning, 
 for ten years at most, who did not prosper ? Not one — 
 if he stuck to it earnestly and tried nothing else, no mat- 
 ter how hard he found it at times to keep his head above 
 water, still, if he persevered he always came out right in 
 the long run." " A rolling stone gathers no moss." 
 
 Says William Wirt, " The man who is perpetually hes- 
 itating which of two things he will do first, will do 
 neither. The man who resolves, but suffers his resolution 
 to be changed by the first counter suggestion of a friend 
 — who fluctuates from opinion to opinion, from plan to 
 plan, and veers like a weathercock to every point of the 
 compass, with every breath of caprice that blows, can 
 never accomplish anything great or useful. Instead of 
 being progressive in anything, he will be at best station- 
 ary, and, more probably, retrograde in all. It is only the 
 man who carries into his pursuits that quality which 
 40 
 
626 PERSEVERANCE. 
 
 Lucan ascribes to Caesar — vescia virtus stare loco — who 
 first consults wisely, then resolves firmly, and then exe- 
 cutes his purposes with inflexible perseverance, undismay- 
 ed by those petty difficulties which daunt a weaker spirit, 
 that can advance to eminence in any line." 
 
 After a great snow-storm a little boy began to shovel a 
 path through a large snowbank before his grandmother's 
 door. He had nothing but a small fire-shovel to work 
 with. " How do you expect to get through that drift ? " 
 asked a man passing along. " By keeping at it" said the 
 boy cheerfully; "that's how." That is the secret of 
 mastering almost every difficulty under the sun. " For 
 the first five years of my professional life," said a gentle- 
 man, " I had to row against wind, and stream, and tide." 
 " And what did you do ? " " Do," replied he, " do — why, 
 I rowed on to be sure." And so he did row on to a good 
 purpose, too, until he came to the open sea, took favor- 
 able breezes, and brought his voyage to a most successful 
 termination, leaving behind him a reputation for worth 
 and wisdom, of more value than a monarch's crown. 
 
 Do as others have done, work long and well. Bridle 
 the tongue; curb the passions; check the appetites; 
 restrain the propensities; master the will; subdue the 
 impulses ; conquer the spirit of evil. Be sleepless, watch- 
 ful, ever active, and you will not, cannot fail. Fail! 
 Fail is not in the persevering man's vocabulary. Whether 
 it is fame, fortune, competency, professional success, learn- 
 ing, the good of others, a single virtue, or the constellated 
 union of all virtues that you seek, there is but one way 
 to obtain it : it is by persevering effort. Great natural 
 endowments are desirable, but perseverance is better. 
 Perseverance must attend these, or there can be no suc- 
 cess. The common mind with perseverance will outstrip 
 the most godlike genius without it. Genius may make a 
 few glorious leaps. Like a blazing meteor it may flash 
 half across the horizon at once. But the common mind, 
 led on by its faithful guide, perseverance, though it may 
 lag behind for a season, will finally march on, gaining 
 speed with time, and will leave genius worn out and dis- 
 couraged amid its own faded glories. Toil is the price of 
 
PERSEVERANCE. 627 
 
 success. Learn it, young farmer, mechanic, student, min- 
 ister, physician, Christian. You must have something to 
 do, and do it with all your might. You must be at it, 
 and always at it. No trembling, doubting, hesitating, fly- 
 ing from the track. You cannot go back. Onward you 
 must go. Every moment has a three-fold duty — one to 
 yourself, one to your fellow, and one to your God. 
 
 Bigelow, an American, went to England to study car- 
 pet-weaving in the English looms, but English jealousy 
 would not allow him the opportunity. He took a piece 
 of carpeting and unravelled it thread by thread, and then 
 combined, calculated and invented machinery on which 
 the best carpets of Europe and America are now woven. 
 " Perseverance accomplishes all things." " To persevere 
 is to succeed." "Frequent touching will wear gold." 
 Stephen Girard at the age of forty years was in quite 
 moderate circumstances, being the captain of a small 
 coasting vessel on the Delaware and part owner of the 
 same. No trait in his character was more marked than 
 his untiring perseverance, and this gave him a fortune. 
 In the afternoon of the bloody day of Waterloo, as Wel- 
 lington threw himself into one of the hollow squares of 
 infantry, he observed to the officers, " This is hard pound- 
 ing, gentlemen, but we will pound the longest." Again 
 he remarked, " Three times I have saved this day by 
 perseverance." 
 
 A gentleman travelling in the northern part of Ireland, 
 heard the voices of children and paused to listen. Find- 
 ing the sounds proceeded from a small building used as a 
 school-house, he drew near; as the door was open, he 
 entered, and listened to the words the boys were spelling. 
 One little fellow stood apart, sad and dispirited. " Why 
 does that boy stand there?" asked the gentleman. "Oh, 
 he is good for nothing ! " replied the teacher. " There's 
 nothing in him. I can make nothing of him. He is the 
 most stupid boy in school." The gentleman was sur- 
 prised at this answer. He saw that the teacher was so 
 stern and rough that the younger and more timid boys 
 were nearly crushed. He said a few kind words to him ; 
 then placing his hands upon the noble brow of the 
 
628 PERSEVERANCE. 
 
 little fellow who stood apart, he said, " One of these days 
 you may be a fine scholar. Don't give up, but try, my 
 boy, try." The soul of the boy was roused. His dor- 
 mant intellect awoke. A new purpose was formed. 
 From that hour he became studious and ambitious to 
 excel. And he did become a fine scholar, and the author 
 of a well-known Commentary on the Bible ; a great and 
 good man, beloved and honored. It was Dr. Adam 
 Clarke. The secret of his success is worth knowing: 
 " Don't give up, but try, my boy, try ! " 
 
 When Sheridan made his first speech in Parliament, it 
 was regarded on all hands as a most mortifying failure. 
 His friends urged him to abandon a parliamentary career, 
 and enter upon some field better suited to his ability. 
 " No," said Sheridan, " No, it is in me, and shall come 
 out." And it did, for he became one of the most splendid 
 debaters in England. 
 
 Arago says, in his Autobiography, that his master in 
 mathematics was a word or two of advice which he found 
 in the binding of his text books. Puzzled and discour- 
 aged by the difficulties which he met with in his early 
 studies, he was almost ready to give over the pursuit. 
 Some words which he found on the waste leaf used to 
 stiffen the cover of his paper-bound text-book, caught his 
 eye and interested him. "Impelled," he says, " by an 
 indefinable curiosity, I damped the cover of the book and 
 carefully unrolled the leaf to see what was on the other 
 side." It proved to be a short letter from D'Alambert 
 to a young person disheartened like himself by the diffi- 
 culties of mathematical studies, and who had written to 
 him for counsel. " Go on, sir, go on," was the counsel 
 which D'Alambert gave him. " The difficulties you 
 meet will resolve themselves as you advance. Proceed, 
 and light will dawn and shine with increasing clearness 
 on your path." "That maxim," says Arago, "was my 
 greatest master in mathematics." Following out those 
 simple words, "Go on, sir, go on" made him the first 
 astronomical mathematician of his age. What Christians 
 it would make of us ! What heroes of faith, what sages 
 in holy wisdom should we become just by acting out that 
 
PERSEVERANCE. 629 
 
 maxim, Go on, go on. " Then shall we know him, if we 
 follow on to know the Lord; his going forth is prepared 
 as the morning/ ' 
 
 The Israelites had journeyed but about two years 
 when they drew nigh to the Land of Promise. The spies 
 went up and searched the country, and ten of them 
 brought back an evil report. The people murmured and 
 God then led them backwards till they fell in the wilder- 
 ness. It is so now. Some to all appearance set out for 
 heaven and run well. It appears as though they would 
 soon reach the land of rest. Then they let their hearts 
 grow cold, neglect duty, virtually complain of the way, 
 and go back again into sin and folly. To begin a right 
 course is well ; to continue in it is better ; to hold out to 
 the end is best of all. Many begin a Christian life and 
 run well for awhile, but when hindrances come they are 
 seized with alarm, their faith fails to stand the test, and 
 they forsake the path which, if perseveringly continued, 
 would surely have led them to eternal safety. It is more 
 to conclude than to begin well. 
 
 PATIENCE. 
 
 Of all the lessons that humanity has to learn in life's 
 school, the hardest is to learn to wait. Not to wait with 
 the folded hands that claim life's prizes without previous 
 effort, but having struggled, and crowded the slow years 
 with trial, to see no such results as effort seems to warrant 
 — nay, perhaps disaster instead. To stand firm at such 
 crises of existence, to preserve one's self-poise and self- 
 respect, not to lose hold or to relax effort, this is great- 
 ness, whether achieved by man or woman — whether the 
 eye of the world notes it, or it is recorded in that book 
 which the light of eternity alone shall make clear to the 
 vision. No matter whether you have to wait in certainty 
 or in doubt ; whether for the fulfillment of a promise, or 
 the arrival of a "ship-load of money," waiting is tedious, 
 and one feels that patience is a virtue. Waiting is the 
 
630 PATIENCE. 
 
 school of moral strength. The grandest achievements 
 have to be waited for. Cherish patience, therefore, as 
 your favorite virtue. Always keep it about you. You 
 will find use for it oftener than all the rest. Though 
 patience may be bitter, yet its fruit is sweet; and you 
 will never repent of being patient and sober. Patience is 
 always crowned with success. This rule is without an 
 exception. It may not be a splendid success, but patience 
 never takes anything in hand that it does not succeed 
 with in some form. 
 
 "I remember," says the celebrated John "Wesley, 
 " hearing 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 nineteen times I should have lost all my labor." : 
 Always pray for patience; every day will bring some- 
 thing that will call for its exercise. Impatience dries 
 the blood sooner than age or sorrow. To things which 
 you bear with impatience you should accustom yourself, 
 and by habit you will bear them well. 
 
 You cannot jump over a mountain, but step by step 
 takes you to the other side. Believe in travelling on 
 step by step. Don't expect to be rich in a jump. Slow 
 and sure is better than fast and flimsy. Perseverance, 
 by its daily gains, enriches a man far more than fits and 
 starts of fortunate speculation. Little fishes are sweet. 
 Every day a thread, makes a skein in a year. Brick by 
 brick, houses are built. We should creep before we walk, 
 walk before we run, and run before we ride. In getting 
 rich the more haste the worse speed. Haste trips up its 
 own heels. Don't give up a small business until you see 
 that a large one will pay you better. Even crumbs are 
 bread. Better a little furniture than an empty house. 
 In hard times he who can sit on a stone and feed himself 
 had better not move. From bad to worse is poor 
 improvement. A crust is hard fare, but none at all is 
 harder. Don't jump out of the frying-pan into the fire. 
 Remember many men have done well in very small shops. 
 A little trade with profit is better than a great concern 
 at a loss ; a small fire that warms you is better than a 
 
PATIENCE. 631 
 
 great fire that burns you. A great deal of water can be 
 got from a small pipe, if the bucket is always there to 
 catch it. Large hares may be caught in small woods. 
 A sheep may get fat in a small meadow, and starve in a 
 great desert. He who undertakes too much succeeds but 
 little. Two shops are like two stools, a man comes to 
 the ground between them. You may burst a bag by try- 
 ing to fill it too full, and ruin yourself by grasping at too 
 much. 
 
 You may always be in haste, but never in a hurry. 
 If you do not want to meet with disappointments, don't 
 be in too much of a hurry. If you want to keep con- 
 science clear and be free from sore temptation ; if you 
 covet the respect of others and wish their confidence ; if 
 you desire to be considered a man of sense and judgment; 
 if you hope for success, for pleasure, fame and competency, 
 and this at no sacrifice of principle ; if you do not wish 
 to hate yourself because of failure in any attempt to over- 
 do a thing, thereby bringing you into a position before 
 others most uncomfortable to yourself; if you don't want 
 to be called a fool — don't be too much in a hurry. 
 
 No, don't be in too much of a hurry. A fortune was 
 never made in a hurry; a battle was never won in a 
 hurry! We would not have a man pass through the 
 world at a snail-pace, but we would see him " make haste 
 slowly," be his pursuit what it may. Fire at the game 
 on the wing, or without taking deliberate aim, and ten 
 chances to one you miss it. Some men are always in a 
 hurry and never accomplish anything. They pass 
 through the world in a hurry, and die, and are forgotten 
 in a hurry. Then — 
 
 " Shun all rash acts. Let moderation mark 
 Each enterprise in which you may embark ; 
 And from your mind ne'er let there be effaced 
 The old, yet sterling proverb, ' haste makes waste.' " 
 
 People who are always in a hurry never accomplish 
 anything save by accident, and then it is always done in 
 the poorest possible manner. Fast work, as long as it is 
 regular and systematic, is a great thing ; but as soon as 
 one gets in a regular hurry, he loses system and regularity 
 
632 PATIENCE. 
 
 altogether; and, no matter how rapid his movements 
 may be, the executive force — the power of doing some- 
 thing definite — is lost. There are many apparently slow 
 workmen in all trades and professions, who, doing one 
 thing at a time, evincing no anxiety, completing every- 
 thing, and having nothing to do over again, actually 
 accomplish ten times as much as one of your blustering, 
 fussy, hurrying fellows, who pass for exceedingly smart 
 men. 
 
 While Father Hyacinthe was in this country, a friend, 
 alluding to the peculiarity of his present status, asked 
 him, — " Under the circumstances what are you going to 
 do ? " His reply was, " I am going to pray and to wait." 
 Patience is the balm of suffering; while you, therefore, 
 bear with firmness what you cannot avoid, submit with 
 resignation to the will of the Almighty, who is just and 
 merciful. That we may suffer less, let us suffer patiently. 
 Pope Julius the third ordered all the attacks upon him 
 and his government to be laid before him. "If true," 
 said he, "they will serve for counsel; if false, for 
 diversion." 
 
 The most beneficent operations of nature are the result 
 of patience. The waters slowly deposit their rich allu- 
 vium ; the fruits are months in their growth and perfect- 
 ing. Nothing teaches patience like a garden. You may 
 go round and watch the opening bud from day to day, 
 but it takes its own time, and you cannot urge it on faster 
 than it will. 
 
 To be wise we must diligently apply ourselves, and 
 confront the same continuous application which our fore- 
 fathers 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 contin- 
 uous 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 
 
PATIENCE. 633 
 
 Granville Sharpe, "must have sunk in despair, and the 
 world must have remained unimproved and unornament- 
 ed, if men had merely compared 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 continously apply ourselves to right 
 pursuits, and we cannot fail to advance steadily, though 
 it may be unconsciously. 
 
 Hugh Miller modestly says, in his autobiography, " 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." Patience is a good nag, 
 says the proverb. Wisely and slow; they stumble that 
 run fast. Always have a good stock of patience laid by, 
 and be sure you put it where you can easily find it. 
 Moderation is the silken string running through the 
 pearl-chain of all virtue. Pie who is impatient to become 
 his own master is most likely to become merely his own 
 slave. You can do anything if you will only have 
 patience ; water may be carried in a sieve, if you can 
 only wait till it freezes. Those who at the commence- 
 ment of their career, meet with less applause than they 
 deserve, not unfrequently gain more than they deserve at 
 the end of it ; though having grounds at first to fear that 
 they were born to be starved, they often live long enough 
 to die of a surfeit. 
 
 He hath made a good progress in business that hath 
 thought well of it beforehand. Some do first, and think 
 afterwards. Precipitation ruins the best laid designs; 
 whereas patience ripens the most difficult, and renders 
 the execution of them easy. That is done soon enough 
 which is done well. Soon ripe, soon rotten. He that 
 would enjoy the fruit, must not gather the flower. He 
 calls to patience, who is patience itself; and he that gives 
 the precept enforces it by his own example. Patience 
 affords us a shield to defend ourselves, and innocence 
 denies us a sword to defend others. Knowledge is power, 
 but it is one of the slowest because one of the most dura- 
 
634 PRUDENCE. 
 
 ble of agencies. Continued exertion, and not hasty 
 efforts, lead to success. What cannot be cured must be 
 endured. How poor are they that have not patience ! 
 
 " For violent fires soon burn out themselves: 
 Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short; 
 He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes ; 
 With eager feeding, food doth choke the feeder." 
 
 — Shak. 
 
 PRUDENCE. 
 
 " Of all sad words of tongue or pen, 
 
 The saddest are these, it might have been." 
 
 He that forecasts what may happen, will never be 
 surprised. It is too late to begin to arm when the enemy 
 is at our quarters. Have not the cloak to make when it 
 begins to rain. Better go around than fall into the ditch. 
 In any business never wade into water where you cannot 
 see bottom. He who is wise will prepare for winter 
 before cold winds and driving snow indicate its advent. 
 The luckiest man is he who makes his luck by careful 
 forethought. We should take a prudent care for the 
 future, but so as to enjoy the present. "A prudent man/* 
 says a witty Frenchman, " is like a pin. His head pre- 
 vents him from going too far." Live within your means, 
 if you would have means within which to live. Attempt 
 not to fly like an eagle with the wings of a wren. It is 
 better to live on a little than to outlive a great deal. 
 
 Labor and prudence relieve us from the great evils — 
 vice, want, and indolence. Want of prudence is too fre- 
 quently a want of virtue ; nor is there on earth a more 
 powerful advocate of vice than poverty. Those, who, in 
 consequence of superior capacities and attainments, disre- 
 gard the common maxims of life, ought to be reminded 
 that nothing will supply the place of prudence, and that 
 negligence and irregularity, long continued, will make 
 knowledge useless, wit ridiculous, and genius contempt- 
 ible. 
 
PRUDENCE. 635 
 
 To do nothing is not always to lose one's time. To do 
 what we do carelessly is to lose it inevitably. It is wear- 
 iness without profit. When will our business and profes- 
 sional men in cities learn not to endure, needlessly and 
 without respite, the friction which entails upon them, in 
 middle life, premature decay, if not death? These are 
 suicides, just as surely as the man who, with knife or pis- 
 tol-shot, ends his day by his own rash hand. It is so 
 hard to get out of the maelstrom, and yet it must be 
 done. The daily conscientious relaxation, the ride on 
 horseback, the drive, the walk when the former cannot be 
 afforded, or the innocent amusements, which divert the 
 mind, may always be found for the seeking. Why not 
 stop in time ? Very few men, properly speaking, live at 
 present, but are providing to live at another time. 
 
 The great end of prudence is to give cheerfulness to 
 those hours which splendor cannot gild, and exclamation 
 cannot exhilerate. Those soft intervals of unbended 
 amusement in which a man shrinks to his natural dimen- 
 sion, and throws aside the ornaments or disguises which 
 he feels, in privacy, to be useless incumbrances, and to 
 lose all effect when they become familiar. To be happy 
 at home is the ultimate result of ambition — the end to 
 which every enterprise and labor tends, and of whicL 
 every desire prompts the prosecution. It is indeed at 
 home that every man must be known, by those who 
 would make a just estimate either of virtue or felicity;. 
 for smiles and embroidery are alike occasional, and the 
 mind is often dressed for show in painted honor and ficti- 
 tious benevolence. 
 
 " Though prudence in itself," says Coleridge, " is neith- 
 er virtue nor spiritual holiness, yet without prudence, or 
 in opposition to it, neither virtue nor holiness can exist." 
 He is truly prudent, who looks upon all earthly things as 
 nothing, that he may gain Christ. 
 
636 DILIGENCE. 
 
 DILIGENCE. 
 
 Special qualifications are necessary for the successful 
 prosecution of business. Of these diligence is j)rominently 
 to be mentioned. Without diligence or a steady applica- 
 tion to whatever is undertaken, it is vain to hope for any 
 decided success. Mere fitful activity accomplishes little. 
 Nothing is impossible to well directed, persevering indus- 
 try. The man of business must be a worker. Steady, 
 earnest effort alone leads to wealth and high position. 
 With habits of industry it is essential to possess energy 
 io give complete efficiency. It is not enough merely to 
 work, it must be done vigorously. We are instructed in 
 the words of holy writ : " Whatsoever thy hands find to 
 do, do it with thy might." 
 
 Diligence, enforced by energy, should be guided by 
 good judgment. Misdirected labor is little better than 
 idleness. What we do must be made to count, or it had 
 almost as well be left undone. Want of success very 
 often results from lack of this directing faculty. Pru- 
 dence, which is defined as wisdom applied to practice, is 
 the result of judgment. It has reference chiefly to things 
 to be done, and to the time, means and methods of doing 
 them. 
 
 Perseverance is another great requisite of a man of 
 business. When after mature deliberation, the business 
 man has marked out a course for himself, he must resolve 
 to adhere to it till success crowns his efforts, or till he 
 shall have learned beyond a doubt, that he has mistaken 
 the true course. This last result will seldom follow if 
 the line of business is prudently chosen in the beginning 
 — our successful men have all possessed great persever- 
 ance, many have owed their success to this essential req- 
 uisite. 
 
 It is very true that a lucky thought may sometimes 
 occur to anyone, which, put in practice, produces a rich 
 reward to the fortunate possessor. In like manner, an 
 idler strolling in the mountains, may stumble on and 
 pick up a diamond. But in general, neither fortunes nor 
 
DECISION. 637 
 
 diamonds are to be had in this way; and the only sure 
 guide to their possession is through diligent study, and 
 careful attention to a single subject. 
 
 u Diligence is the mother of good luck/' or rather of 
 good fortune. u Diligence is a fair fortune, and industry 
 a good estate." "A man diligent in business prospers." 
 "-Diligence in execution is the mistress of success." 
 16 Diligence ensures success." " The hand of the diligent 
 maketh rich." " Do but the half of what you can, and 
 you will be surprised at the result of your own diligence." 
 
 It is not by regretting what is irreparable that true 
 work is to be done, but by making the best of what we 
 are. It is not by complaining that we have not the right 
 tools, but by using well the tools we have. Where we 
 are, and what we are, is God's providential arrangement; 
 and the wise and manly way is to look our disadvan- 
 tages in the face, and see what can be made of them. 
 Life, like war, is a series of mistakes, and he is not the 
 best Christian nor the best General who makes the fewest 
 of false steps. Poor mediocrity may do that ; but he is 
 the best who wins the most splendid victories by the 
 retrieval of mistakes. Forget mistakes ; organize victory 
 out of mistakes. 
 
 DECISION. 
 
 "A double minded man is unstable in all his ways. 
 Unstable as water, thou shalt not excel." Decision of 
 character is one of the most important of human qualities, 
 philosophically considered. Speculation, knowledge, is 
 not the chief end of man ; it is action. We may, by a 
 fine education, learn to think most correctly, and talk 
 most beautifully ; but when it comes to action, if we are 
 weak and undecided, we are of all beings the most 
 wretched. All mankind feel themselves weak, beset 
 with infirmities, and surrounded with dangers ; the acut- 
 est minds are the most conscious of difficulties and dan- 
 gers. They want above all things, a leader with that 
 
638 DECISION. 
 
 boldness, decision, and energy, which, with shame, they 
 do not find in themselves. "Give us the man," shout 
 the multitude, "who will step forward and take the 
 responsibility." He is instantly the ' idol, the Lord, and 
 the king among men. He, then, who would command 
 among his fellows, must excel them more in energy of 
 will, than in power of intellect. 
 
 Pizarro, the conquerer of Peru, in one of his reverses, 
 was cast on the island of Gallo, with a few of his follow- 
 ers. When in a starving condition, two vessels arrived 
 from Panama for his relief, and to induce him to abandon 
 his object. Now came the test of his decision of char- 
 acter, and the determination of his earthly destiny. 
 Drawing his sword, he traced a line with it on the sand, 
 from east to west. Then turning towards the south, 
 " Friends and comrades," he said, " on that side are toil, 
 hunger, nakedness, the drenching storm, desolation and 
 death ; on this side, ease and pleasure. There lies Peru, 
 with its riches — here Panama and its poverty. Choose, 
 each man, what becomes a brave Castilian. For my 
 part, I go to the south. So saying, he stepped across the 
 line. He was followed by eleven others, and Peru was 
 conquered. 
 
 Sidney Smith, in his work on Moral Philosophy, 
 speaks in this wise of what men lose for want of decision : 
 " A great deal of talent is lost to the world for the want 
 of a little courage. Every day sends to their graves a 
 number of obscure men, who have only remained in 
 obscurity because their timidity has prevented them from 
 making a first effort, and who, if they had only been 
 induced to begin, would, in all probability, have gone 
 great lengths in the career of fame. The fact is, in doing 
 anything in the world worth doing, we must not stand 
 shivering on the bank, thinking of the cold and danger, 
 but jump in and scramble through as well as we can. It 
 will not do to be perpetually calculating risks and adjust- 
 ing nice chances; it did all very well before the flood, 
 when a man could consult his friends upon an intended 
 publication for a hundred and fifty years, and live to see 
 Its success for six or seven centuries afterwards, but at 
 
DECISION. 639 
 
 present a man waits and doubts, and consults his brothers, 
 and his uncles, and his particular friends, till one day he 
 finds that he is sixty-five years of age, that he has lost so 
 much time in consulting first cousins and particular 
 friends, that he has no more time to follow their advice. 
 There is so little time for over-squeamishness at present, 
 that the opportunity slips away. The very period of life 
 at which man chooses to venture, if ever, is so confined, 
 that it is no bad rule to preach up the necessity, in such 
 instances, of a little violence done to the feelings, and 
 efforts made in defiance of strict and sober calculations.' , 
 
 Decision is a principle, the power of which, though 
 unconsciously, we are ever applying. There is no object 
 we desire to gain, task to perforin, or course to pursue, 
 in which decision is not the first step to its accomplish- 
 ment. When the question arises as to the purpose, 
 motive or character of individuals, sometimes with too 
 slight an investigation, decision has settled the question. 
 But with that respect due to all, and a sincere love for 
 the right, how valuable to society is that person upon 
 whose character is enstamped the feature of firm decision. 
 To him it is a shield. Temptations are not thrown in 
 his path that would otherwise be. The erring and 
 vicious feel that there is a power which they cannot 
 approach. The atmosphere around him has a saving 
 influence, while his very presence seems a reproof. 
 
 Decision and promptitude, even though sometimes a 
 man may err for want of due deliberation, will in the 
 long run more often conduce to success than a slow judg- 
 ment that comes too late. Next to being upright and 
 faithful in the performance of your duty, be decided, and 
 then you make either friends or foes worth having. It 
 is in vain to hope to please all alike. Let a man stand 
 with his face in what direction he will, he must necessa- 
 rily turn his back on one-half of the world. The man 
 who, in opinion is anywhere in the estimation of others, 
 will soon find himself nowhere. Things should never be 
 done by halves ; if it be right, do it boldly ; if it be wrong, 
 leave it undone. Every day is a little life, and our whole 
 life is but a day repeated. We don't want men who will 
 
640 JUDGMENT. 
 
 change, like the vanes of our steeples, with the course of 
 every breeze ; but men, who, like mountains, will change 
 the course of the wind. 
 
 A good example of decision and firmness is told of a 
 heathen king, who had been for years confirmed in the 
 sin of drunkenness, by the evil practices of white men in 
 the Sandwich Islands, and had been led to forsake the 
 dreadful habit. He said, lately, to a missionary, " Sup- 
 pose you put four thousand dollars in one hand, and a 
 glass of rum in the other; you say, you drink this rum 
 I give you four thousand dollars, I no drink it ; you say 
 you kill me, I still no drink it." 
 
 u How is it that you never go with any bad boy, or get 
 into bad scrapes ? " asked one little fellow of his play- 
 mate. "Oh," said the other, "that's 'cause I don't say 
 'no' easy." That's the secret. Saying "no" easy has 
 ruined many a child and man, and woman too — saying 
 "no" as if you did not quite mean it. 
 
 Secular decision in business, literature, or politics, is a 
 thing of great moment in such spheres of action ; but 
 religious decision is of the mightiest importance in every 
 conceivable department of life. The former may be indis- 
 pensable to make a merchant, artist, scholar or statesman ; 
 but the latter is indispensable to make a great man. 
 
 JUDGMENT. 
 
 The most resplendent ornament of man is judgment : 
 here is the perfection of his innate reason; here is the 
 utmost power of reason joined with knowledge. For a 
 man to see and acknowledge his own ignorance and 
 defects ; to pretend to no more than he really hath, is a 
 quality that argues so much judgment, that there are but 
 few better testimonies to be given of it. He hath a good 
 judgment that relieth not wholly on his own, nor wholly 
 on that of others. It is wisdom, in a case that is doubt- 
 ful, rather to take another man's judgment than one's 
 own. 
 
JUDGMENT. 641 
 
 "Judgment," says Freedley, "is an original faculty of 
 the mind which God has given to supply the want of cer- 
 tain knowledge, and by which man takes a proposition to 
 be true or false without perceiving demonstrative evidence 
 in the proofs. A total want of judgment cannot be sup- 
 plied by art ; but where the faculty exists, it may be cul- 
 tivated to an extraordinary degree of accuracy." 
 
 Industry and economy are indispensable requisites to 
 success ; but they are not the only ones. A man may be 
 active and even over economical, but he must possess good 
 judgment, or his industry and economy will be of no 
 avail. Set not your judgment above that of all the 
 earth; neither condemn that as falsehood which agrees 
 not with your own apprehension. Who gave you the 
 power of determining for others ? Or who has taken from 
 the world the right of choice? To preserve the entire 
 liberty of one's judgment without being prepossessed with 
 false reasons, or pretended authority, is a strength of 
 mind whereof few are capable. Only weak minds allow 
 their judgments to be warped by sympathy or indignation. 
 Appearances are often deceitful; hence we should not 
 determine hastily on the unfavorable side. 
 
 The most necessary talent of a man of conversation, is 
 a good judgment. He that has this in perfection is mas- 
 ter of his companion without letting him see it ; and has 
 the same advantage over men of any other qualifications 
 whatsoever, as one that can see would have over a blind 
 man of ten times his strength. 
 
 Every person complains of the badness of his memory, 
 but none of their defective judgment. And yet from 
 time to time there returns upon the cautious thinker the 
 conclusion, that considered simply as a question of prob- 
 abilities, it is decidedly unlikely that his views on any 
 debatable topic are correct. " Here," he reflects, " are 
 thousands around me holding on this or that point opin- 
 ions differing from mine — wholly in most cases; partially 
 in the rest. Each is as confident as I am of the truth of 
 his convictions. Many of them are possessed of great 
 intelligence ; and, rank myself as high as I may, I must 
 admit that some are my equals — perhaps my superiors. 
 41 
 
642 JUDGMENT. 
 
 Yet whilst every one of us is sure he is right, unques- 
 tionably most of us are wrong. Why should not I be 
 amongst the mistaken ? True, I can not realize the like- 
 lihood that I am so : but this proves nothing ; for though 
 the majority of us are necessarily in error, we all labor 
 under the inability to think we are in error. Is it not, 
 then, foolish thus to trust myself? When I turn and 
 look back into the past. I find nations, sects, philosophers, 
 cherishing beliefs in science, morals, politics and religion, 
 which we decisively reject. Yet they held them with a 
 faith quite as strong as ours : nay — stronger, if their 
 intolerance of dissent is any criterion. Of what little 
 worth, therefore, seems this strength of my conviction that 
 I am right ! A like warrant has been felt by men all the 
 world through ; and, in nine cases out of ten, has proved 
 a delusive warrant, Is it not. then, absurd in me to put 
 so much faith in my judgments ? 
 
 Condemn no man for not thinking as you think. Let 
 every one enjoy the free liberty of thinking for himself 
 Let every man use his own judgment, since every man 
 must give an account of himself to God. Abhor every 
 approach, in any kind of degree, to the spirit of persecu- 
 tion. If you cannot persuade a man into the truth, you 
 must never attempt to force him into it. If love will not 
 compel him to come, leave him to God. the judge of all. 
 
 We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, 
 while others judge us by what we have already done. 
 But while men may judge us by the success of our efforts, 
 God looks at the efforts themselves. Judge not thy neigh- 
 bor until thou art in his situation. There are flowers that 
 are repulsive at first sight, but when closely examined 
 they unfold a world of beauty, and so with man. We 
 should never judge a man from first sight, for he may 
 have good qualities which will develop themselves on 
 acquaintance. 
 
 If you wish to be loved as a companion, ignore all 
 unnecessary criticism upon your associates. The number 
 of those who have taken out judge's patents, is very large 
 in society, and they all drive a prosperous business. But 
 no one chooses to live between the glasses of a microscope, 
 
JUDGMENT. 643 
 
 even though a fool be looking in. One of the most vexa- 
 tious kinds of criticism is that backhanded variety which 
 commences with his introductions as these : " Had I been 
 consulted/' " had you listened to me," " you always have 
 your own way," and a legion of such like expressions 
 which are not designed to soothe a perturbed spirit. 
 
 "Don't judge others by yourself," is a common warn- 
 ing ; and yet the advice is generally nugatory. Uncon- 
 sciously every man judges of others rather as his own 
 nature suggests, than by the real character of the man he 
 judges. One may see this in the theological creeds. The 
 cruel man esteems his Maker to be as violent and vindic- 
 tive as himself, and would not believe him to be God, if 
 he were otherwise. The benevolent and mild tempered 
 man, on the contrary, sees in the Deity a merciful and 
 benignant Father. The worshiped Divinity of all nations, 
 represents to a degree the peculiar traits and tempers of 
 those nations. "Voltaire," says a writer, "thought he 
 was looking through a handsome French window at God 
 -and the universe, when in truth the glass was a mirror, 
 .and he saw and copied only his own scoffing face." 
 
 Who can unfold, even to his own heart, all the motives 
 that influence and direct his conduct ? Who can unravel 
 the mysteries of his own will, — as well acquainted as he 
 must be with its secret workings, — and say by what he 
 was decided to this course or the other? — what called up 
 that train of thought, or broke it so suddenly for a differ- 
 ent one ? Yet how much easier it is than to give correct 
 judgment of what dwells in our neighbor's heart ! blind 
 as we must be to its hidden impulses, dark as ever are, to 
 mortal eyes, the consequences which are to follow. 
 
 If you must form harsh judgments, form them of your- 
 self, not of others ; and, in general, begin by attending to 
 your own deficiencies first. If every one would sweep up 
 his own walk, we should have very clean streets. Judge 
 not the rich by their wealth, or the poor by their poverty. 
 
644 ACCURACY. 
 
 ACCURACY. 
 
 It is the result of every day's experience that steady 
 attention to matters of detail lies at the root of human 
 progress, and that diligence, above all, is the mother of 
 good luck. Accuracy is also of much importance, and an 
 invariable mark of good training in a man — accuracy in 
 observation, accuracy in speech, accuracy in the transac- 
 tion of affairs. What is done in business must be well 
 done 5 for it is better to accomplish perfectly a small 
 amount of work than to half-do ten times as much. A 
 wise man used to say, " Stay a little that we make an 
 end the sooner." Too little attention, however, is paid to 
 this highly important quality of accuracy. As a man 
 eminent in practical science lately observed, " It is aston- 
 ishing how few people I have met in the course of my 
 experience who can define a fact accurately." Yet, in 
 business affairs, it is the manner even in which small 
 matters are transacted that often decide men for or against 
 you. With virtue, capacity and good conduct in other 
 respects, the person who is habitually inaccurate cannot 
 be trusted ; his work has to be done over again ; and he 
 thus causes endless annoyance, vexation and trouble. 
 
 We knew a young man once in the office of a Western 
 railway Superintendent, who was occupying a position 
 that four hundred boys in that city would have wished to 
 get. It was honorable and " it paid well," besides being 
 in the line of promotion. How did he get it ? Not by 
 having a rich father, for he was the son of a laborer. 
 The secret was his beautiful accuracy. He began as an 
 errand boy and did his work accurately. His leisure time 
 he used in perfecting his writing and arithmetic. After 
 awhile he learned to telegraph. At each step his employer 
 commended his accuracy, and relied on what he did 
 because he was just right. And it is thus with every 
 occupation. The accurate boy is the favored one. Those 
 who employ men do not wish to be on the constant look- 
 out, as though they were rogues or fools. If a carpenter 
 must stand at his journeyman's elbow to be sure that his 
 
ACCUEACY. 645 
 
 work is right, or if a cashier must run over his book- 
 keeper's columns, he might as well do the work himself 
 as employ another to do it in that way ; and it is very cer- 
 tain that the employer will get rid of such an inaccurate 
 workman as soon as he can. 
 
 A poor man proves himself fit to go higher, who shows 
 that he is faithful where he is. A man that will not do 
 well in his present place because he longs to be higher, is 
 fit neither to be where he is nor yet above it. Whatever 
 is worth doing at all is worth doing well. It takes as 
 much time to do a thing badly as well, and often more 
 labor is required to remedy the evils resulting from neg- 
 ligence and inattention than the right way of doing would 
 have demanded. Nothing can be done without effort, and 
 often after disappointment, a careful review will show some 
 error, and a second trial brings success. The pleasure of 
 conquering one difficulty emboldens to further attempts, 
 and failure seems a useless word. 
 
 Take time to put your words in cartridge shape before 
 you fire them, and you will find increased effectiveness 
 has amply repaid for the extra work. The proof-reader 
 on the London Times receives an editorial salary, but has 
 to forfeit one guinea for every typographical error, even a 
 turned letter, in each day's impression ; if he has marked 
 an error on the proof, the compositor who nelgected to 
 correct it pays the forfeit. By the use of the word 
 " when " instead of "if," in a deed, a large property ques- 
 tion has recently been settled in a way directly contrary 
 to what was intended by the parties concerned, but the 
 strict letter of the law left no alternative. It is a mis- 
 take often made, but seldom with such important results. 
 
 A man is said to have sent a friend in the East Indies a 
 request in the following form : " I wish you to send me 
 loo monkeys," &c, to which was returned the following 
 reply : " We have received your order for 100 monkeys. 
 We have found it impossible to procure so large a number : 
 we send 80 and will forward the other 20 as soon as they 
 can be procured." Thus for his ignorance of the spelling 
 of the word two, and his failure to cross the t, he had to 
 pay a bill of several hundred dollars, and what was 
 
646 ACCURACY. 
 
 equally vexing, he never heard the last of his monkey 
 speculation. 
 
 An English gentleman applied to the East India Com- 
 pany for an office for a friend of his in India, and suc- 
 ceeded in obtaining an appointment. His friend wrote 
 him a letter of thanks and signified his intention to send 
 him an equivalent. The English gentleman could make 
 nothing of the word but elephant, and being pleased with 
 the idea of possessing so noble an animal, he was at the 
 expense of erecting a building for his accommodation. 
 In a few weeks the equivalent came, which was nothing 
 more nor less than a pot of sweetmeats. 
 
 A clergyman in Massachusetts, more than a century 
 since, addressed a letter to the legislature on some subject 
 of interest which was under discussion. The clerk read 
 the letter, in which was this remarkable sentence : " I 
 address you not as magistrates, but as Indian Devils." 
 The wrath of the honorable body was aroused, they 
 passed a vote of censure, and wrote to the reverend gen- 
 tleman for an explanation ; from which it appeared that 
 he did not address them as magistrates, but as indi- 
 viduals. 
 
 An Irish recruit was asked by his officer, " What is 
 your height ? " To which he replied : " The man that 
 measured me told me it was five feet ten, or ten feet five, 
 I am not exactly sure which, but it was either the one 
 or the other." 
 
 "I do not know that there is anything," says Arthur 
 Helps, " except it be humility, which is so valuable as an 
 incident of education as accuracy. And accuracy can be 
 taught. Direct lies told to the world are as dust in the 
 balance when weighed against the falsehoods of inac- 
 curacy. These are the fatal things ; and they are all- 
 pervading. I scarcely care what is taught to the young, 
 if it will implant in them the habit of accuracy. * * 
 Besides, there is this important result from a habit of 
 accuracy, that it produces truthfulness even on those 
 occasions where a man would be tempted to be untruth- 
 ful. He gradually gets to love accuracy more even than 
 his own interests." 
 
PRINCIPLE AND RIGHT. 647 
 
 Accuracy is apt to disperse romance. Mathematicians 
 do not write stories, although they deal largely in figures. 
 
 PRINCIPLE AND RIGHT. 
 
 "Study well to know the right, 
 
 Whatere betides, do it with all thy might." 
 
 A man that puts himself on the ground of moral prin- 
 ciple, if the whole world be against him, is mightier than 
 all. Never be afraid of being in the minorities, so that 
 minorities are based upon principle. 
 
 The man of principle is he who does everything because 
 he thinks it is right, and is able to give a reason for his 
 adherence to his principles ; who acts not from impulse or 
 pleasure, but from duty. Such a man is a moral Gibraltar 
 on whose head glistens the sunlight of truth, and at whose 
 feet sleep the waves of peace. His soul is virtue's shrine, 
 his life is the praise of men and joy of angels, and he 
 himself is God's own dear child. He will do what is right, 
 whether it seems pleasant or not, and leave the result to 
 God. 
 
 In the development of every moral principle, there is, 
 sooner or later, a crisis reached, which, if safely passed, 
 insures the greatest possible amount of good of which the 
 case admits ; otherwise the greatest possible amount of 
 evil. The weight of a feather may turn the scale. How 
 can we lose our wealth when it consists in the honest 
 labor of our own hands? How can we be sad when the 
 spring of our joy is in our own bosom? Better be up- 
 right with poverty than unprincipled with plenty. 
 
 Fearlessly do what you believe to be right. What can 
 be more honorable than to have courage enough to 
 execute the commands of reason and conscience ; to main- 
 tain the dignity of our nature, and the station assigned to 
 us ; to be proof against poverty, pain, and death itself; so 
 far as not to do anything that is scandalous or sinful to 
 avoid them ; to stand adversity under all shapes, with 
 decency and resolution ? To do this is to be great above 
 
648 PRINCIPLE AND RIGHT. 
 
 title and fortune. This argues the soul of heavenly extrac- 
 tion, and is worthy the offspring of the Deity. 
 
 Every time you avoid doing wrong, you increase your 
 inclination to do right. In general, man is a coward, 
 who shapes his course of action by his fears ; and he alone 
 is a man of true courage who dares to do right. No man 
 ever sacrificed his sense of right to lust of pleasure, 
 money, power or fame, but the swift feet of justice over- 
 took him. She held her austere court within his soul, 
 conducted the trial, passed sentence and performed the 
 execution. It was done with closed doors ; nobody saw 
 it, only that unslumbering eye, and the man's heart. 
 Nay, perhaps the man himself felt it not, but only shrank 
 and shrivelled, and grew less, one day to fall, with lum- 
 bering crash, a ruin to the ground. 
 
 If you can get a man's thoughts to entertain what is 
 right, you may trust him to do what is right, if he have 
 the right principle. Said Thoreau, " If you would con- 
 vince a man that he does wrong, do right." This is a 
 great truth. Error is often attempted to be put down by 
 argument. Live it down. Prove the superiority of truth 
 by acting the truth. Let it speak for itself. This is just 
 the book of evidences of Christianity which the world 
 most needs. A faithful, devoted, sympathizing, consistent 
 Christian is an unanswerable argument. Infidelity can- 
 not confute it. 
 
 Do the right deed. Do it in faith, and in prayer com- 
 mend it to the care of God. And though the waves of 
 circumstances may soon waft it beyond your ken, they 
 only carry it to the place prepared by Him. And whether 
 on an earthly or a heavenly shore, the result will be found, 
 and the reaper will rejoice that he was once a sower. 
 Some men make a great flourish about always doing what 
 they believe to be right, but always manage to believe 
 that is right which is for their own interest. 
 
 Whenever you are in doubt of two things to do, let your 
 decision be for that which is right. Do not waver, do not 
 parley, but come square up to the mark and do the right 
 thing. You may not always hit the mark, but you should 
 nevertheless aim at it, and with every trial your skill will 
 
INTEGRITY. 649 
 
 increase. Whether you are to be praised or blamed for it 
 
 by others ; whether it will seemingly make you richer or 
 
 poorer ; or whether no other person than yourself knows 
 
 of your action ; still always, and in all cases, do the right 
 
 thing. 
 
 " Knowing the right and true 
 Let the world say to you 
 Worst that it can : 
 
 Answer despite the blame, 
 Answer despite the shame, 
 I'll not belie my name — 
 I'll be a man !" 
 
 INTEGRITY. 
 
 Integrity is the foundation of all that is high in char- 
 acter among mankind; other qualities may add to its 
 splendor, but if this essential requisite be wanting all their 
 lustre fades. Our integrity is never worth so much to us 
 as when we have lost everything to keep it. Integrity 
 without knowledge is weak ; knowledge without integrity 
 is dangerous and dreadful. Integrity is the best mantle, 
 and, however rough, is better than smooth dissimula- 
 tion. 
 
 Foremost in the list of requisites for the acquirement of 
 wealth, are honesty and strict integrity in every transac- 
 tion of life. Let a man have the reputation of being fair 
 and upright in his dealings, and he will possess the con- 
 fidence of all who know him. Without these qualities, 
 every other merit will prove unavailing. Ask concerning 
 a man, " Is he active and capable ? " Yes. " Industrious, 
 temperate, and regular in his habits ? " Oh, yes. " Is he 
 honest ? Is he trustworthy ? " Why, as to that, I am 
 sorry to say that he is not to be trusted ; he wants watch- 
 ing ; he is a little tricky, and will take an undue advan- 
 tage, if he can. " Then I will have nothing to do with 
 him," will be the invariable reply. Why, then, is honesty 
 the best policy ? Because, without it, you will get a bad 
 name, and everybody will shun you. 
 
 A character for knavery will prove an insurmountable 
 
650 INTEGRITY. 
 
 obstacle to success in almost every undertaking. It will 
 be found that the straight line is, in business, as in geom- 
 etry, the shortest. In a word, it is almost impossible for 
 a dishonest man to acquire wealth by a regular process of 
 business, because he is shunned as a depredator upon 
 society. 
 
 The " tricks of trade," whatever may be their apparent 
 advantages, impair confidence, and, in the end, injure those 
 who practice them far more than they benefit them. It 
 is a short-sighted, as well as a guilty policy, to swerve, 
 under any circumstances, from those great principles 
 which are of universal and everlasting obligation. Let a. 
 man maintain his integrity at all times, and he will be 
 satisfied there is a blessing all around it. Needy men are 
 apt to deviate from the rule of integrity, under the plea 
 that necessity knows no law : they might as well add that 
 it knows no shame. The course is suicidal, and by 
 destroying all confidence, ever keeps them immured in 
 poverty, although they may possess every other quality 
 for success in the world. Fair dealing is the bond of 
 society. 
 
 Avoid — and young men especially — avoid all base, 
 servile, underhand, sneaking ways. Part with anything 
 rather than your integrity and conscious rectitude; flee 
 from injustice as you would from a viper's fangs ; avoid a 
 lie as you would the gates of hell. Some there are who 
 are callous as to this. Some there are who, in stooping to 
 mercantile dishonor and baseness — in driving the immoral 
 bargain — think they have done a clever action. Things 
 are often called by their wrong names ; duplicity is called 
 shrewdness, and wrong-heartedness is called long-headed- 
 ness; evil is called good, and good evil, and darkness is 
 put for light, and light for darkness. Well! be it so. 
 You may be prosperous in your own eyes ; you may have 
 realized an envied fortune ; you may have your carriage, 
 and plate, and servants, and pageantry; but rather the 
 shilling and the crust of bread with a good conscience, 
 than the stately dwelling or palace without it. Rather than 
 the marble mausoleum, which gilds and smothers tales of 
 heartless villainy and fraud — rather, far rather, that lowly 
 
INTEGRITY. 651 
 
 heap of grass we were wont often to gaze upon in an old 
 village churchyard, with the simple record of a cotter's 
 virtues — " Here lies an honest man ! " There is nothing 
 more sad than to be carried like a vessel away from the 
 straight course of principle; to be left a stranded out- 
 cast thing on the sands of dishonor; a man bolstering 
 himself up in a position he is not entitled to. " That is 
 a man of capital" says the world, pointing to an un- 
 scrupulous and successful swindler. Capital ! What is cap- 
 ital ? Is it what a man lias ? Is it counted by pounds and 
 pence, stocks and shares, by houses and lands ? No ! capital 
 is not what a man has, but what a man is. Character is 
 capital ; honor is capital. That is the most fearful of 
 ruin when character is gone, when integrity is sold, when 
 honor is bartered for a miserable mess of earthly pottage. 
 God save us from ruin like this ! Perish what may ; per- 
 ish gold, silver, houses, lands ; let the winds of misfortune 
 dash our vessel on the sunken rock, but let integrity be like 
 the valued keepsake which the sailor boy lashed with the 
 rope round his body, the only thing we care to save. 
 Let me die ; but let angels read, if friends cannot afford to 
 erect the grave stone — " Here lies an honest man!" 
 
 The man who walks the street with unruffled brow and 
 peaceful heart, though his business is ruined, his prospects 
 beclouded, and his family reduced to want, who maintains 
 his integrity amid the perilous temptations of the hour, and 
 bravely, hopefully struggles against these stern adversities, 
 upborne by an unyielding faith in Providence, is a hero. 
 And in yonder room, where that poor pale-faced girl, 
 through long weary days and dreary nights, with aching 
 eyes and wasting frame, bravely battles off gaunt starva- 
 tion, or flaunting infamy, with no other weapons than a 
 trusting heart and her needle — there is one of God's 
 heroines. 
 
652 FIRMNESS. 
 
 FIRMNESS. 
 
 The ability to say "no" in life is so valuable that it might 
 lbe truly called the safe side of one's character. It is an 
 almost sure sign of a strong mind and a sound heart. 
 That queer clerical wit, Sidney Smith, who could be sen- 
 sible in spite of his fun, wrote the following very grave 
 paragraph on the power of " no " in young men : " The 
 purity of moral habits is, I am afraid, of very little use 
 to a man unless it is accompanied by that degree of firm- 
 ness which enables him to act up to what he may think 
 right in spite of solicitations to the contrary. Yery few 
 young men have the power of negation in any degree at 
 first. It increases with the increase of confidence, and 
 with the experience of those inconveniences which result 
 from the absence of this virtue. Every young man must 
 be exposed to temptation ; he can never learn the ways of 
 men without being witness to their vices. If you 
 attempt to preserve him from danger by keeping him out 
 of the way of it, you render him quite unfit for any style 
 of life in which he may be placed. The great point is, 
 not to turn him out too soon, and to give him a pilot at 
 first." 
 
 An incident was recently related in the life of a sea 
 captain, whose strong and earnest feeling, respecting the 
 use of intoxicating drink, sometimes caused him to make 
 many sacrifices of pecuniary profit rather than seemingly 
 to favor, by any action of his, the destructive habit. He 
 happened, a few years ago, to be at Santa Cruz, in the 
 West Indies, with his vessel, when the season for ship- 
 ping the products of that region was past, and nothing 
 remained to go forward except a cargo of rum. He was 
 offered the freight at a wholesale price, but peremptorily 
 refused it on the ground that his conscience would not 
 permit him to accept it. The consequence was that he 
 came to Boston in ballast. On his arrival he estimated 
 the loss to the vessel by his refusal, and informed the 
 
SELF-RELIAN CE. 6 5 & 
 
 owners of the circumstances, adding that he was willing 
 to pay them their portion of the freight money that had 
 been lost by his conduct. The respect in which the cap- 
 tain was held, however, prevented the acceptance of his 
 offer, and he was continued in command, but care was 
 taken that, if possible, his voyages should be thereafter so 
 arranged as to avoid all "rum" ports. The captain is 
 now in command of a fine ship, and although somewhat 
 advanced in years he still adheres to his old-time prin- 
 ciples. 
 
 " Firmness," says Burns, " both in sufferance and exer- 
 tion, is a character which I would wish to possess. I have 
 always despised the whining yelp of complaint, and the 
 cowardly feeble resolve." 
 
 "When my mother says 'no' there's no 'yes' in it." 
 Here is a sermon in a nut-shell. Multitudes of parents 
 say " no," but after a good deal of teasing it becomes yes. 
 Love and kindness are essential elements in the successful 
 management of children, but firmness, decision, inflex- 
 ibility and uniformity of treatment are no less impor- 
 tant. 
 
 SELF-RELIANCE. 
 
 It appears to have been designed by Creative Prov- 
 idence, that every human being should chiefly depend on 
 the means within himself, for his own subsistence and 
 advancement in the world. Were we to ask a hundred 
 men who from small beginnings have attained a condition 
 of respectability and influence, to what they imputed their 
 success in life, the general answer would be, " It was from 
 being early compelled to think and depend on ourselves." 
 
 The oak that stands alone to contend with the tempest's 
 blasts only takes deeper root and stands the firmer for 
 ensuing conflicts ; while the forest tree, when the wood- 
 man's ax has spoiled its surroundings, sways and bends 
 and trembles and perchance is uprooted. So it is with 
 men. Those who are trained to self-reliance are ready to. 
 
654 SELF-RELIANCE . 
 
 go out and contend in the sternest conflicts of life ; while 
 men who have always leaned for support on those around 
 them, are never prepared to breast the storms of adversity 
 that arise. 
 
 Many a young man — and for that matter, many who 
 are older — halts at his outset upon life's battle-field, and 
 falters and faints for what he conceives to be a necessary 
 capital for a start. A few thousand dollars, or hundreds, 
 or " something handsome " in the way of money in his 
 purse, he fancies to be about the only thing needful to 
 secure his fortune. Many a young man would, doubtless, 
 make a good use of such a capital, and to many it has been 
 the beginning of disaster — the unnerving of self-reliance, 
 the pillow of activity, and the rust of every genial, manly 
 virtue and ambition. 
 
 The best capital, in nine cases out of ten, a young man 
 can start in the world with, is robust health, sound morals, 
 a fair intelligence, a will to work his way honestly and 
 bravely, and if it be possible, a trade— whether he follows 
 it for a livelihood or not. He can always fall back upon 
 a trade when other paths are closed. Any one who will 
 study the lives of memorable men — apart from the titled, 
 or hereditarily great — will find that a large majority of 
 them rose from the ranks, with no capital for a start, save 
 intelligence, energy, industry, and a will to rise and con- 
 quer. In the mechanic and artisan pursuits, in commerce, 
 in agriculture, and even in the paths of literature, science 
 and art, many of the greatest names sprung from poverty 
 and obscurity. Dr. Johnson made himself illustrious by 
 his intellect and industry — so did Franklin, and so have 
 multitudes whose memories are renowned. 
 
 The greatest heroes of the battle-field — as Napoleon, 
 Hannibal, Cromwell — some of the greatest statesmen and 
 orators, ancient and modern — as Demosthenes, Chatham, 
 Burke, and our own Webster and Clay — could boast no 
 patrician advantages, no capital in gold, to start with. 
 The grandest fortunes ever accumulated or possessed on 
 earth, were and are, the fruit of endeavor that had no 
 capital to begin with save energy, intellect, and the will. 
 From Croesus down to Astor, the story is the same — not 
 
SELF-RELIANCE. 655 
 
 only in the getting of wealth, but also in the acquirement 
 of various eminence — those men have won most, who relied 
 most upon themselves. 
 
 The path of success in business is invariably the path 
 of common sense. Notwithstanding all that is said about 
 " lucky hits/' the best kind of success in every man's life 
 is not that which comes by accident. The only " good 
 time coming " we are justified in hoping for, is that which 
 we are capable of making for ourselves. The fable of the 
 labors of Hercules is indeed the type of all human doing 
 and success. Every youth should be made to feel that if 
 he would get through the world usefully and happily, he 
 must rely mainly upon himself and his own independent 
 energies. Making a small provision for young men is 
 hardly justifiable; and it is of all things the most pre- 
 judicial to themselves. They think what they have much 
 larger than it really is ; and they make no exertion. The 
 young should never hear any language but this : " You 
 have your own way to make, and it depends upon your 
 own exertions whether you starve or not." 
 
 People who have been bolstered up and levered all their 
 lives, are seldom good for anything in a crisis. When 
 misfortune comes, they look around for somebody to cling 
 to, or lean upon. If the prop is not there, clown they go. 
 Once down, they are as helpless as capsized turtles, or 
 unhorsed men in armor, and they cannot find their feet 
 again without assistance. Such silken fellows no more 
 resemble self-made men, who have fought their way to 
 position, making difficulties their stepping-stones, and 
 deriving determination from their defeat, than vines resem- 
 ble oaks, or spluttering rushlights the stars of heaven. 
 Efforts persisted in to achievements train a man to self- 
 reliance ; and when he has proven to the world that he 
 can trust himself, the world will trust him. We say, 
 therefore, that it is unwise to deprive }~oung men of the 
 advantages which result from energetic action, by " boost- 
 ing " them over obstacles which they ought to surmount 
 alone. No one ever swam well who placed his confidence 
 in a cork jacket; and if, when breasting the sea of life, 
 we cannot buoy ourselves up and try to force ourselves 
 
656 SELF-RELIANCE. 
 
 ahead by dint of our own energies, we are not salvage ; 
 and it is of little consequence whether we " sink or swim, 
 survive or perish." 
 
 It is not good for human nature to have the road of 
 life made too easy. Better to be under the necessity of 
 working hard and faring meanly, than to have everything 
 done ready to our hand, and a pillow of down to repose 
 upon. Indeed, to start in life with comparatively small 
 means seems so necessary as a stimulus to work, that it 
 may almost be set down as one of the essential conditions 
 to success in life. Hence, an eminent judge, when asked 
 what contributed most to success at the bar, replied, " Some 
 succeed by great talent, some by high connections, some 
 by miracle, but the majority by commencing without a 
 shilling." So it is a common saying that the men who 
 are most successful in business are those who begin the 
 world in their shirt-sleeves ; whereas those who begin with 
 fortunes generally lose them. Necessity is always the 
 first stimulus to industry ; and those who conduct it with 
 prudence, perseverance, and energy will rarely fail. 
 Viewed in this light, the necessity of labor is not a chastise- 
 ment, but a blessing — the very root and spring of all that 
 we call progress in individuals, and civilzation in nations. 
 It may, indeed, be questioned whether a heavier curse 
 could be imposed on man than the complete gratification 
 of all his wishes without effort on his part, leaving nothing 
 for his hopes, desires or struggles. The feeling that life is 
 destitute of any motive or necessity for action, must be of 
 all others the most distressing and the most insupportable 
 to a rational being. The Marquis de Spinola asking Sir 
 Horace Yere what his brother died of, Sir Horace replied, 
 " He died, sir, of having nothing to do." "Alas ! " said 
 Spinola, " that is enough to kill any general of us all." 
 
 The men who stand boldly for the defense of the truth, 
 in the midst of the flood of errors that surround them, are 
 not the gentlemen of lily fingers who have been rocked 
 in the cradle of indulgence and caressed in the lap of 
 luxury ; but they are men whom necessity has called from 
 the shade of retirement, to contend under the scorching 
 rays of the sun, with the stern realities of life with all 
 
SELF-RELIANCE . 657 
 
 its vicissitudes. It is good for a man that he bear the 
 yoke in his youth. 
 
 Don't rely upon friends. Don't rely upon the good 
 name of your ancestors. Thousands have spent the 
 prime of life in the vain hope of those whom they called 
 friends ; and thousands have starved because they had a 
 rich father. Rely upon the good name which is made by 
 your own exertions, and know that better than the best 
 friend you can have is unquestionable determination, united 
 with decision of character. And remember that without 
 God's blessing you cannot truly prosper. In all thy ways 
 acknowledge Him, and He will direct thy paths. Nothing- 
 would fortify us more against all manner of accidents, than 
 the remembrance of this maxim, that we can never be 
 hurt but by ourselves. If our reason be what it ought, 
 and our actions according to it, we are invulnerable. 
 " Heaven helps those who help themselves." Depend not 
 on the stores of others. Tax a neighbor's good offices as 
 seldom as possible. " Do not ride a free horse to death " 
 is trite but good advice. Rely upon your own resources 
 as much as possible. Human nature delights in novelties, 
 hence look out that an opportunity for your neighbor to 
 serve you is a novelty. 
 
 If we were going to give a formula for developing the 
 most forcible set of men, we should say : Turn them 
 upon their own resources with moral and religious truths 
 when they are boys, and teach them to depend on them- 
 selves. If a boy is thrown upon his own resources at 
 fifteen, with the world all before him where to choose, and 
 he fights the battle single-handed up to manhood, and 
 don't develop more than an average share of executive 
 ability, then there is no stuff in him worth talking 
 about. 
 
 In morals and personal characteristics generally, young 
 people should be taught the great principle of self-reliance, 
 and given the habit of exercising their own natural 
 powers. In this way the mental will be developed and 
 strengthened as in Eastern countries the physical is by 
 continual use. In Switzerland, mere infants may be seen 
 scrambling among the rocks after the goats — themselves 
 42 
 
658 FORCE OF CHARACTER. 
 
 as safe as kids, from the early habit of relying on their own 
 powers. In Egypt and Nubia five-year-old boys keep pop- 
 ping about like ducks in the rapids of the Nile. Such 
 children are saved from danger, as much as from fear, by 
 an early use of all their physical powers. 
 
 There is nothing more likely to result in the successful 
 career of a young man, than confident self-reliance. It is 
 astonishing how much more a youth will accomplish who 
 relies on himself, than one who depends on others for 
 assistance. Young man, rely upon yourself. Have con- 
 fidence in yourself. Believe that you can accomplish a 
 certain high purpose, and then set about the work in 
 earnest. If difficulties interpose grapple them with a 
 stout hand, a strong arm and courageous heart, and they 
 will generally yield to your energy and perseverance. 
 Few men know of how much they are capable, until they 
 have first thoroughly tested their abilities. 
 
 FORCE OF CHARACTER. 
 
 The crown and glory of life is character. It is the 
 noblest possession of a man, constituting a rank in itself, 
 and an estate in the general good-will ; dignifying every 
 station, and exalting every position in society. It 
 exercises a greater power than wealth, and secures all the 
 honor without the jealousies of fame. It carries with it 
 an influence which always tells; for it is the result of 
 proved honor, rectitude and consistency, — qualities which, 
 perhaps more than any other, command the general con- 
 fidence and respect of mankind. 
 
 Character is human nature in its best form. It is moral 
 order embodied in the individual. Men of character are 
 not only the conscience of society, but in every well-gov- 
 erned state they are its best motive power ; for it is moral 
 qualities, in the main, which rule the world. Even in 
 war, Napoleon said, the moral is to the physical as ten to 
 one. The strength, the industry, and the civilization of 
 nations, all depend upon individual character; and the 
 
FORCE OF CHARACTER. 659 
 
 very foundations of civil authority rest upon it. Laws 
 and institutions are but its outgrowth. In the just bal- 
 ance of nature, individuals, and nations, and races will 
 obtain just so much as they deserve, and no more. And 
 as effect finds its cause, so surely does quality of character 
 amongst a people produce its benefiting results. 
 
 Though a man have comparatively little culture, slender 
 abilities, and but small wealth, yet, if his character be of 
 sterling worth, he will always command an influence, 
 whether it be in the workshop, the counting-house, the 
 mart, or the senate. You may admire men of intellect ; 
 but something more is necessary before you will trust 
 them. We sometimes ask the assistance of men of genius, 
 but we prefer to follow the guidance of men of character. 
 Sidney Smith said of Francis Horner, a member of the 
 English House of Commons, that "the Ten Command- 
 ments were stamped upon his countenance." His history 
 is calculated to inspire every right-minded youth. He 
 died at the age of thirty-eight, possessed of greater public 
 influence than any other private man in England, and 
 admired, beloved, trusted and deplored by all, except the 
 heartless or the base. No greater homage was ever paid 
 in parliament to any deceased member. Now let every 
 young man ask — How was this attained? By rank? 
 He was the son of an Edinburgh merchant. By wealth ? 
 Neither he nor any of his relations, ever had a superfluous 
 sixpence. By office ? He held but one, and only for a 
 few years, of no influence, and with very little pay. By 
 talents? His were not splendid, and he had no genius. 
 Cautious and slow, his only ambition was to be right. 
 By eloquence? He spoke in calm, good taste, without 
 any of the oratory that either terrifies or seduces. By 
 any fascination of manner? His was only correct and 
 agreeable. By what, then, was it? Merely by sense, 
 industry, good principles, and a good heart — qualities 
 which no well-constituted mind need ever despair of attain- 
 ing. It was the force of his character that raised him, 
 and this character not impressed upon him by nature, but 
 formed out of no peculiarly fine elements by himself. 
 
 Franklin, also, attributed his success as a public man, 
 
660 FORCE OF CHARACTER. 
 
 not to his talents or his powers of speaking — for these 
 were but moderate — but to his known integrity of char- 
 acter. " Hence, it was," he says, " that I had so much 
 weight with my fellow citizens. I was but a bad speak- 
 er, never eloquent, subject to much hesitation in my 
 choice of words, hardly correct in language, and yet I 
 generally carried my point." Character creates confidence 
 in men in every station of life. It was said of the first 
 Emperor Alexander of Russia, that his personal character 
 was equivalent to a constitution. During the wars of the 
 Fronde, Montaigne was the only man among the French 
 gentry who kept his castle gates unbarred ; and it was said 
 of him, that his personal character was worth more to 
 him than a regiment of horse. 
 
 Strength of character consists of two things: — power 
 of will and power of self-restraint. It requires two things, 
 therefore, for its existence — strong feelings and strong 
 command over them. Now it is here we make a great 
 mistake ; we mistake strong feelings for strong character. 
 A man who bears all before him, before whose frown domes- 
 tics tremble, and whose bursts of fury make the children 
 of the household quake ; — because he has his will obeyed, 
 and his own way in all things, we call him a strong man. 
 The truth is, that is the weak man ; it is his passions that 
 are strong; he, mastered by them is weak. You must 
 measure the strength of a man by the power of the feel- 
 ings he subdues, not by the power of those which subdue 
 him. And hence composure is very often the highest 
 result of strength. 
 
 Did we never see a man receive a flagrant insult, and 
 only grow a little pale, and then reply quietly ? This is 
 a man spiritually strong. Or did we never see a man in 
 anguish stand, as if carved out of solid rock, mastering 
 himself? Or one bearing a hopeless daily trial remain 
 silent, and never tell the world what cankered his home 
 peace ? That is strength. He who, with strong passions, 
 remains chaste ; he who, keenly sensitive, with manly 
 powers of intlignation in him, can be provoked, and yet 
 restrain himself and forgive — these are the strong men, 
 the spiritual heroes. 
 
FORCE OF CHARACTER. 661 
 
 The truest criterion of a man's character and conduct, 
 is, invariably, to be found in the opinion of his nearest 
 relations, who, having daily and hourly opportunities of 
 forming a judgment of him, will not fail in doing so. It 
 is a far higher testimony in his favor, for him to secure the 
 esteem and love of a few individuals within the privacy 
 of his own home, than the good opinion of hundreds in 
 his immediate neighborhood, or that of ten times the 
 number residing at a distance. In fact, next to a close 
 and impartial self-scrutiny, no question comes so near the 
 truth, as for a man to ask himself, " What is thought of 
 me by the familiar circle of my own fireside ? " Would 
 that all remembered this ! 
 
 That character is power is true in a much higher sense 
 than that knowledge is power. Mind without heart, 
 intelligence without conduct, cleverness without goodness, 
 are powers in their way, but they may be powers only for 
 mischief. We may be instructed or amused by them, but 
 it is sometimes as difficult to admire them as it would be 
 to admire the dexterity of a pickpocket or the horseman- 
 ship of a highwayman. 
 
 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 Coloma fell into the hands of his base assailants, and 
 they asked him, in derision, " Where is now your for- 
 tress?" "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 stand upon his integrity 
 and his courage. 
 
 Every man is bound to aim at the possession of a good 
 character, as one of the highest objects of his life. The 
 very effort to secure it by worthy means will furnish him 
 with a motive for exertion ; and his idea of manhood, in 
 
662 FORCE OF CHARACTER. 
 
 proportion as it is elevated, will steady and animate his 
 motive. It is well to have a high standard of life, even 
 though we may not be able altogether to realize it. " The 
 youth," says Disraeli, "who does not look up will look 
 down ; and the spirit that does not soar is destined perhaps 
 to grovel." He who has a high standard of living and 
 thinking will certainly do better than he who has none 
 at all. "Pluck at a gown of gold," says the Scotch 
 proverb, " and you may get a sleeve o't." Whoever tries 
 for the highest results cannot fail to reach a point far in 
 advance of that from which he started ; and though the 
 end accomplished may fall short of that proposed, still, 
 the very effort to rise, of itself cannot fail to prove per- 
 manently beneficial. 
 
 There are many counterfeits of character, but the 
 genuine article is difficult to be mistaken. Some, know- 
 ing its money value, would assume its disguise for the 
 purpose of imposing upon the unwary. Colonel Charteris 
 said to a man distinguished for his honesty, " I would give 
 a thousand pounds for your good name." " Why ? " 
 "Because I could make ten thousand by it," was the 
 rogue's reply. 
 
 Integrity in word and deed is the backbone of char- 
 acter ; and loyal adherence to veracity its most prominent 
 characteristic. The groundwork of all manly character 
 is veracity. That virtue lies at the foundation of every- 
 thing solid. How common it is to hear parents say, " I 
 have confidence in my child so long as he speaks the 
 truth. He may have many faults, but I know he will not 
 deceive me." It is a lawful and just ground to build upon. 
 And that is a beautiful confidence. Whatever errors 
 temptation may betray a child into, so long as brave open 
 truth remains, there is something to depend on ; — there is 
 another ground — there is substance at the center. Men 
 of the world feel so about one another. They can toler- 
 ate and forbear so long as their erring brother is true. 
 Ordinary commerce can hardly proceed a step without a 
 good measure of it. If we cannot believe what others 
 say to us, we cannot act at all. Truth is common inter- 
 est. When we defend it, we defend the basis of all social 
 
FORCE OF CHARACTER. 663 
 
 order. When we vindicate it, we vindicate our own foot- 
 hold. When we plead for it, it is like pleading for the 
 air of health we breathe. When you undertake to benefit 
 a lying man, it is like putting your foot into the mire. 
 
 There is 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. Always endeavor to 
 be really what you wish to appear. Every man who 
 respects himself, and values the respect of others, will 
 carry out this maxim in act: — doing honestly what he 
 purposes to do — putting the highest character into his 
 work, scamping nothing, but priding himself upon his 
 integrity and conscientiousness. Men whose acts are at 
 direct 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 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 him, 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 
 illustration of principle, or conscience, dominating in the 
 character, and exercising a noble protectorate over it ; not 
 merely a passive influence, but an active power, regulat- 
 ing the life. Such a principle goes on moulding the char- 
 acter hourly and daily, growing with a force that operates 
 every moment. Without this dominating influence, char- 
 acter has no protection, but is constantly liable to fall 
 away before temptation ; and every such temptation suc- 
 cumbed to, every act of meanness or dishonesty, however 
 slight, causes self-degradation. It matters not whether 
 the act be successful or not, discovered or concealed, the 
 man 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 inev- 
 itable doom of the guilty. 
 
664 HONOR. 
 
 HONOR. 
 
 Honor, like the shadow, follows those who flee from it, 
 but flees from those who pursue it. Let great actions 
 encourage greater ; and let honor be your merit, not your 
 design. Some people want to enjoy honor, and to have 
 the glory of despising it at the same time. The journey 
 of high honor lies not in smooth ways. 
 
 That little word of five letters — honor — has caused 
 more happiness and unhappiness in the world than any 
 other abstract noun. False notions of it have brought 
 about misery upon misery, while a true observance of its 
 rigid requirements in the end ever benefits him to whom 
 it is a guiding star. Honor signifies good and entire faith 
 to man or woman, — allegiance to the spoken word, — 
 respect for the promising look. They err who speak of 
 honor as a blood-stained god, — it is a peaceful deity, and 
 should sit amongst the penates of each man's household. 
 Its insignia are not the pistol and the bowie-knife, but the 
 sealed lips and the open hand. To speak of a man or a 
 woman as honorable conveys a higher compliment than 
 wealth and beauty can call forth. What though honor 
 lead us for the time into poverty and deprive us of tem- 
 porizing smiles ? Its reward may be late, but it is sure to 
 come, if not here, hereafter. 
 
 True honor, as defined by Cicero, is the concurrent 
 approbation of good men; those only being fit to give 
 true praise, who are themselves praiseworthy. Anciently 
 the Romans worshipped virtue and honor as gods ; they 
 built two temples, which were so seated, that none could 
 enter the temple of honor, without passing through the 
 temple of virtue. 
 
 The way to be truly honored, is to be illustriously*good. 
 Maximilian, the German emperor, replied to one who 
 desired his letters patent to ennoble him, saying, I am 
 able to make you rich ; but virtue must make you noble. 
 Who would not desire the honor that Agesilaus, king of 
 Sparta, had, who was fined by the Sphori for having stolen 
 
HONOR. 665 
 
 away all the hearts of the people to himself alone ? Of 
 whom it is said, that he ruled his country by obeying it. 
 It is with glory as with beauty : for as a single fine linea- 
 ment cannot make a fine face, neither can a single good 
 quality render a man accomplished ; but a concurrence of 
 many fine features, and good qualities, make true beauty 
 and true honor. 
 
 The Athenians raised a noble statue to the memory of 
 JEsop, and placed a slave on a pedestal, that men might 
 know the way to honor was open to all. The man of 
 honor is internal, the person of honor an external; the 
 one a real, the other a fictitious character. A person of 
 honor may be a profane libertine, penurious, proud, may 
 insult his inferiors, and defraud his creditors; but it is 
 impossible for a man of honor to be guilty of any of 
 these. 
 
 There is no true glory, no true greatness, without vir- 
 tue ; without which we do but abuse all the good things 
 we have, whether they be great or little, false or real. 
 Eiches make us either covetous or prodigal ; fine palaces 
 make us despise the poor and poverty ; a great number of 
 domestics flatter human pride, which uses them like slaves ; 
 valor oftentimes turns brutal and unjust; and a high 
 pedigree makes a man take up with the virtues of his 
 ancestors, without endeavoring to acquire any himself. 
 
 Where honor runs parallel with the laws of God and 
 our country, says Addison, it cannot be too much cher- 
 ished. 
 
 " Honor and shame from no condition rise: 
 
 Act well your part; there all the honor lies." — Pope. 
 
 " Mine honor is my life; both grow in one; 
 
 Take honor from me, and my life is undone."— Shah. 
 
666 HONESTY. 
 
 HONESTY 
 
 A man who is rightly honest, looks not to what he 
 might do, but to what he should. He wears always the 
 same countenance ; speaks the truth ; his cheeks are never 
 stained with the blushes of recantation ; nor does his 
 tongue falter to make good a lie, with the secret glosses 
 of double or reserved meaning. An honest man is 
 believed without an oath ; for his reputation swears for 
 him. Xenocrates was a man of so much truth and 
 fidelity, that the Athenians gave him alone this privilege, 
 that his evidence should be lawful without swearing. 
 And it is said of Fabricius that a man might as well 
 attempt to turn the sun out of its course, as bring him to 
 do a base or dishonest action. 
 
 Sincerity of heart and integrity of life, are the great 
 and indispensable ornaments of human nature. No man 
 is wise or safe, but he that is honest. A firm faith and 
 true honesty are not to be forced by necessity, or corrupted 
 by reward. Honesty is silently commended by the prac- 
 tice of even the most wicked ; for their deceit is under its 
 colors. 
 
 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 honestjr 
 is often masked malignity. He who saith 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 till 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 ever been too honest. Cicero believed that 
 nothing is useful that is not honest. He that walketh. 
 
HONESTY. 667 
 
 uprightly, walketh 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 
 business as in everything else. As Hugh Miller's worthy 
 uncle used to advise him, " In all your dealings give your 
 neighbor the cast of the bauk, — 'good measure, heaped 
 up, and running over,' — and you will not lose bv it in the 
 end." 
 
 Nothing more completely baffles one who is full of trick 
 and duplicity himself than straightforward and simple 
 integrity in another. A knave would rather quarrel with 
 a brother knave than a fool, but he would rather avoid a. 
 quarrel with one honest man than with both. He can 
 combat a fool by management and address, and he can. 
 conquer a knave by temptations. But the honest man is- 
 neither to be bamboozled or bribed. 
 
 Integrity of word and deed ought to be the very corner- 
 stone of all business transactions. To the tradesman, the 
 merchant, and manufacturer, it should be what honor is 
 to the soldier, and charity to the Christian. In the hum- 
 blest calling there will always be found scope for the 
 exercise of this uprightness of character. Hugh Miller 
 speaks of the honest mason with whom he served his 
 apprenticeship, who "put his conscience into every stone 
 that he laid." So the true mechanic will pride, himself 
 upon the thoroughness and solidity of his work, and the 
 high-minded contractor upon the honesty of performance 
 of his contract in every particular. The upright manu- 
 facturer will find not only honor and reputation, but sub- 
 stantial success, in the genuineness of the article which 
 he produces, and the merchant in the honesty of what he 
 sells, and that it really is what it seems to be. We may 
 succeed for a time by fraud, by surprise, by violence ; but 
 we can succeed permanently only by means directly 
 opposite. It is not alone the courage, the intelligence, the 
 activity, of the merchant and manufacturer which main- 
 tain the superiority of their productions and the character 
 
668 HONESTY. 
 
 of their country ; it is far more their wisdom, their econ- 
 omy, and, above all, their probity. 
 
 Honesty is never gained or lost suddenly, or by accident. 
 Moral strength or moral weakness takes possession of us 
 slowly and by imperceptible degrees. It is always safe to 
 trust those who can trust themselves, but when a man sus- 
 pects his own integrity, it is time he was suspected by 
 others. Moral degredation ■ always begins at home. 
 Carlyle says : " Make yourself an honest man, and then 
 you may be sure that there is one rascal less in the 
 world." Shelton in one of his sermons, says: "An 
 upright is always easier than a stooping posture, because 
 it is more natural, and one part is better supported by 
 another ; so it is easier to be an honest man than a knave. 
 It is also more graceful. " 
 
 Honesty in the man and honesty in the work — that is 
 what must be secured in society, or society will never 
 be Christianized. The aim of an honest man's life is not 
 the happiness which serves only himself, but the virtue 
 which is useful to others. Have the courage to show your 
 respect for honesty in whatever guise it appears, and your 
 contempt for dishonesty and duplicity by whomsoever 
 exhibited. 
 
 As there is no station in life, however exalted, which 
 can secure a man the approbation of the wise and good, 
 when he descends to mean and dishonorable deeds, so no 
 condition in human life, however humble, will prove as a 
 barrier of true eminence, when virtue and honorable 
 principle are the main-spring of our actions. 
 
 We love upright men. Pull them this way and the 
 other and they only bend, but never break. Trip them 
 down and in a trice they are on their feet again. Bury 
 them in the mud and in an hour they would be out and 
 bright. You cannot keep them down — you cannot 
 destroy them. They are the salt of the earth. Who but 
 they start any noble project? They build our cities, 
 whiten the ocean with their sails, and blacken the heavens 
 with the smoke of their cars. Look to them, young men, 
 and take courage. Imitate their example, and catch the 
 spark of their energy. 
 
hosesty. ; ; ; ; > 
 
 There is no question that in this matter N of personal 
 honesty the standard in America is not what it should he. 
 The rich corporation and the rich man are regarded too 
 much by tradesmen and laborers alike as sources of 
 money which they may draw upon to the extent of their 
 ability, without rendering an equivalent* An holi- 
 day's work is a much harder thing to get than it was 
 formerly; and the good old standard of personal honesty 
 among the laboring poor, and of business integrity among 
 the prosperous is in danger. 
 
 He who oppresses honesty never had any. If a man 
 is honest and truthfuL there is little need of saying much 
 about it. Honest and courageous people have very little 
 to say about either their courage or their honesty. The 
 sun has no need to boast of his brightness, nor the moon 
 of her enulgence. Be what you seem to be. When your 
 lips say honesty is policy, don't let your acts say policy 
 is honesty. It was Lavater who said: **The more 
 honesty a man has, the less he affects the air of a saint." 
 The affectation of sanctity is a blotch upon pier A 
 clergyman, in a recent sermon, quoted an anecdote of an 
 old merchant, who instructed his clerks : u When a man 
 comes into the store and talks of his honesty, watch him; 
 if he talks of his wealth, don t try to sell to him; if he 
 talks of his religion, don't trust him a doHar/' 
 
 He who is passionate and hasty is generally honest. It 
 is your old, dissembling hypocrite of whom you should 
 beware. There is no deception in a bull-dog; it is only 
 the cur that sneaks up and bites you when your back is 
 turned. 
 
 A minister took occasion to preach on the passage: 
 u He that is unjust in the least is unjust also in much." 
 Hi- :ii^7::r '"-—. ■•-.:/-. :::->:: ~:.\ ~. r.-. b:,.-;";.:::.\:- ::_ -r::.\\\ 
 
 prospect of escaping detection or censure is as little to be 
 
 ;,:-\ ■.-::.. jir r;: \.y '..- t;,; vi- \- 
 
 ---■-■- - ' ~L~T'- : '-'.'.. v- y.zz -.. _: ;;------ ~ : - -"_;" "' 
 
 change; by errors in accounts: by escaping taxes and cos- 
 
670 HONESTY. 
 
 ing articles and never seeking owners ; and by injuring arti- 
 cles borrowed, and never making the fact known to the owner 
 when returned. One lady, the next day met her pastor, 
 
 and said, " I have been up to Mr. , to rectify an error 
 
 in giving me change a few weeks ago; for I bitterly felt 
 your reproof yesterday." Another went to Boston to pay 
 for an article not in her bill, which she noticed was not 
 charged when she paid it. 
 
 A Quaker, passing through a market, stopped at a stall, 
 and inquired the price of citrons. "I have none," said 
 the honest countryman, "that will suit you; they are 
 decayed, and their flavor is gone." " Thank thee, friend ; 
 I will go to the next stand." " Hast thou good fruit to- 
 day ? " said he to the dealer. " Yes, sir ; here are some of 
 the finest nutmegs of my garden. They are small, but 
 rich of their kind." "Then thou canst recommend 
 them?" "Oh, certainly, sir." "Very well, I will take 
 two." He carried them home, and they proved not only 
 unsound, but miserably tasteless. The next morning he 
 again repaired to the same place. The man who sold him 
 the fruit the preceding day asked him if he would like 
 some more. " Nay, friend, thou hast deceived me once, 
 and now, although thou mayst speak the truth, still I can-, 
 not trust thee ; but thy neighbor chose to deal uprightly 
 with me, and from henceforth I shall be his patron. 
 Thou wouldst do well to remember this, and learn by 
 experience that a lie is a base thing in the beginning, and 
 a very unprofitable one in the end." 
 
 There is this difference between honor and honesty; 
 the former, it is said, exists among thieves, the latter cer- 
 tainly does not. And yet when the thief has no oppor- 
 tunity for stealing, he sometimes considers himself an 
 honest man. 
 
REPUTATION. 671 
 
 REPUTATION. 
 
 There is this difference between character and reputa- 
 tion : Character is what one really is, rejmtation is what 
 he seems to be. The difference has been well expressed 
 thus : Reputation is what men and women think of us ; 
 character is what God and angels know of us. Honesty 
 makes reputation, and honor preserves it. An honest 
 reputation is within the reach of all men, obtained by 
 their social virtues, and by doing their duty. This kind 
 of reputation, it is true, is neither brilliant nor startling, 
 but it is generally most conducive to happiness. An 
 honest man is believed without an oath, for his reputation 
 swears for him." And yet anybody can tarnish the reputa- 
 tion of an individual, however pure and chaste, by utter- 
 ing a suspicion which his enemies will believe and his 
 friends never hear of. A puff of the idle wind can take 
 up a million of the seeds of a thistle and do a work of 
 mischief which the husbandman must labor long and hard 
 to undo, the floating particles being too fine to be seen and 
 too light to be stopped. Such are the seeds of slander, so 
 easily sown, so difficult to be gathered up, and yet so per- 
 nicious in their fruits. The slanderer, knows that many 
 a wind will catch up the plague and become poisoned by 
 his insinuations, without ever seeking the antidote. No 
 reputation can refute a sneer, nor any human skill prevent 
 mischief. 
 
 The man who is careful of his own reputation will be 
 careful of his neighbor's. The man who thoughtlessly 
 speaks ill of another is reckless of his own good name. 
 He that sets no value upon a good repute, is as careless 
 of the actions that produce it. A wounded reputation is 
 seldom cured. Who shall estimate the value of a spotless 
 reputation? Who shall repair it when injured? Who 
 shall redeem it when lost ? Without reputation, gold has 
 no value; birth, no distinction; station, no dignity; 
 beauty, no charm ; age, no reverence ; without it, every 
 treasure impoverishes, every grace deforms, every dignity 
 
672 HABIT. 
 
 degrades, and all the arts, decorations, and accomplish- 
 ments of life stand, like the beacon-blaze upon a rock, 
 warning the world that its approach is dangerous, that 
 its contact is death. 
 
 The reputation of a man is frequently like his shadow 
 — gigantic when it precedes him, and pigmy in its propor- 
 tions when it follows. St. Evermond says that " reputa- 
 tion is rarely proportioned to virtue," that he has " seen a 
 thousand people esteemed, either for the merit they had 
 not yet attained, or for that they no longer possessed.'* 
 It is very singular, how the fact of a man's death often 
 seems to give people a truer idea of his character, whether 
 for good or for evil, than they have ever possessed while he 
 was living and acting among them. " Death is so genuine 
 a fact," says Hawthorne, " that it excludes falsehoods, or 
 betrays its emptiness; it is a touch-stone. that proves the 
 gold, and dishonors the baser metal. Could the departed, 
 whoever he may be, return in a week after his decease, he 
 would almost invariably find himself at a higher or a, 
 lower point than he had formerly occupied, on the scale 
 of public appreciation." 
 
 HABIT. 
 
 Habit in a child is at first like a spider's web ; if neg- 
 lected, it becomes a thread of twine ; next, a cord of rope ; 
 finally, a cable — then who can break it? 
 
 Oh, the tyranny, the despotism of a bad habit ! Cole- 
 ridge, one of the subtlest intellects and finest poets of his 
 time, battled for twenty years before he could emancipate 
 himself from his tyrant, opium. He went into voluntary 
 imprisonment. He hired a man to watch him day and 
 night, and keep him by force from tasting the pernicious 
 drug. He formed resolution after resolution. Yet, during 
 all the best years of his life, he wasted his substance and 
 his health, neglected his family, and lived degraded and 
 accursed, because he had not resolution to abstain. He 
 would lay plans to cheat the very man whom he paid to 
 
HABIT. 673 
 
 keep the drug from him, and bribe the jailor to whom he 
 had voluntarily surrendered himself. 
 
 Terrible, terrible is the despotism of a bad habit. The 
 case of Coleridge is an extreme one, of course. But there 
 are many, whose eyes these lines will meet, who are as 
 truly the slaves of a perverted appetite as he. Their 
 despot may be opium, tobacco, drink or worse ; but they 
 are so completely under the dominion of their master, that 
 nothing short of a moral war of independence, which 
 should task all their own strength, and all they could 
 borrow from others, would suffice to deliver them. 
 
 Few people form habits of wrong-doing deliberately or 
 wilfully; they glide into them by degrees and almost 
 unconsciously, and before they are aware of danger, the 
 habits are confirmed and require resolute and persistent 
 effort to effect a change. " Resist beginning,'' was a 
 maxim of the ancients, and should be preserved as a land- 
 mark in our day. 
 
 It was only the other day that a man fell asleep in his 
 boat on the Niagara River. During his slumber the boat 
 broke loose from her moorings, and he woke to find himself 
 shooting down the rapids directly toward the cataract. 
 In vain he shrieked for help, in vain he tried to row 
 against the current ; he drifted on, till his light craft upset, 
 when he was borne rapidly to the brink of the abyss, and 
 leaping up with a wild cry, went over and disappeared 
 forever. 
 
 In the great battle of Gibraltar, when the united fleets 
 of France and Spain attacked the impregnable fortress, 
 one of the gigantic floating batteries broke from her 
 anchorage and began to drift directly into the hottest of 
 the British fire. The thousand men who formed the crew 
 of the unwieldy mass, vainly strove to arrest its progress 
 or divert it from its path. Every minute it drifted nearer 
 to the English guns, every minute some new part took 
 fire from the red-hot shot, every minute another score of 
 its hapless defenders were swept like chaff from its decks. 
 The most superhuman efforts failed to prevent its drifting 
 with its human freight to inevitable death. 
 
 A ship was wrecked at sea. The passengers and crew 
 
 43 
 
674 HABIT. 
 
 took refuge on a raft, the boats having been stove in the 
 attempt to launch them. For days and weeks these 
 unfortunates drifted about without oar or sail on the hot, 
 broken tropical ocean. At last their provisions failed, and 
 then their water. Still they drifted about, vainly looking 
 for a sail, or hoping for a sight of land. The time had 
 now come when that fearful alternative became inevitable 
 — death from starvation or feeding on human flesh — and 
 they were just beginning to cast lots for a victim when a 
 vessel was seen on the distant horizon. They abandoned 
 their terrible design ; the stranger would approach. The 
 ship came toward them. She drew nearer and nearer. 
 They strove to attract her attention by shouts and by 
 raising their clothing ; but the indolent look-out saw them 
 not. They shouted louder and louder, still they were not 
 seen. At last the vessel tacked. With frantic terror they 
 rise in one body, shouting and waving their garments. It 
 was in vain. The unconscious ship stood steadily away. 
 Night drew on, and as the darkness fell the raft drifted 
 and drifted in the other direction till the last trace of the 
 vessel was lost forever. 
 
 So it is in life. The intemperate man who thinks he 
 at least will never die a drunkard, whatever his neighbor 
 may do, only wakes to find himself drifting down the 
 cataract and all hope gone. The sensualist, who lives 
 merely for his own gratification, drifts into an emasculated 
 old age to be tortured with passions he can not gratify, 
 and perish by merciless, agonizing diseases. The undis- 
 ciplined, who never learned to control themselves, who 
 are spendthrifts, or passionate, or indolent, or visionary, 
 soon make shipwreck of themselves, and drift about the 
 sea of life, the prey of every wind and current, vainly 
 shrieking for help, till at last they drift away into dark- 
 ness and death. 
 
 Take care that you are not drifting. See that you have 
 fast hold of the helm. The breakers of life forever roar 
 under the lee, and adverse gales continually blow on the 
 shore. Are you watching how she heads ? Do you keep 
 a firm grip of the wheel ? If you give way but for one 
 moment you may drift hopelessly into the boiling vortex. 
 
HABIT. 675 
 
 Young men, take care ! It rests with yourselves alone 
 under God, whether you reach port triumphantly or drift 
 to ruin. 
 
 Be not slow in the breaking of a sinfnl custom ; a quick, 
 courageous resolution is better than a gradual delibera- 
 tion ; in such a combat, he is the bravest soldier who lays 
 about him without fear or wit. Wit pleads, fear dis- 
 heartens ; he that would kill hydra, had better strike off 
 one neck than five heads; fell the tree, and the branches 
 are soon cut off. 
 
 Evil habits must be conquered, or they will conquer us 
 -and destroy our peace and happiness. 
 
 Vicious habits are so great a stain upon human nature, 
 said Cicero, and so odious in themselves, that every per- 
 son actuated by right reason would avoid them, though he 
 was sure they would always be concealed both from God 
 and man, and had no future punishment entailed upon 
 them. 
 
 Vicious habits, when opposed, offer the most vigorous 
 resistance on the first attack. At each successive encoun- 
 ter this resistance grows fainter and fainter, until finally it 
 ceases altogether and the victory is achieved. 
 
 Habit is man's best friend or worst enemy ; it can exalt 
 him to the highest pinnacle of virtue, honor and happi- 
 ness, or sink him to the lowest depths of vice, shame and 
 misery. 
 
 We may form habits of honesty, or knavery ; truth, or 
 falsehood; of industry, or idleness; frugality, or extrav- 
 agance; of patience, or impatience, self-denial, or self- 
 indulgence; of kindness, cruelty, politeness, rudeness, 
 prudence, perseverance, circumspection. In short there 
 is not a virtue, nor a vice ; not an act of body, nor of 
 mind, to which we may not be chained down by this 
 despotic power. 
 
 It is a great point for young men to begin well ; for it 
 is in the beginning of life that that system of conduct is 
 adopted, which soon assumes the force of habit. Begin 
 well, and the habit of doing well will become quite as 
 easy as the habit of doing badly. Pitch upon that course 
 of life which is the most excellent, and habit will render 
 
676 HABIT. 
 
 it the most delightful. Well begun is half ended, says 
 the proverb; and a good beginning is half the battle. 
 Many promising young men have irretrievably injured 
 themselves by a first false step at the commencement of 
 life; while others, of much less promising talents, have 
 succeeded simply by beginning well, and going onward. 
 The good practical beginning is, to a certain extent, a 
 pledge, a promise, and an assurance, of the ultimate pros- 
 perous issue. There is many a poor creature, now crawl- 
 ing through life, miserable himself and the cause of sorrow 
 to others, who might have lifted up his head and pros- 
 pered, if, instead of merely satisfying himself with resolu- 
 tions of well-doing, he had actually gone to work and 
 made a good practical beginning. 
 
 Did you ever watch a sculptor slowly fashioning a 
 human countenance ? It is not moulded at once. It is 
 not struck out at a single blow ; it is painfully and labo- 
 riously wrought. A thousand blows rough-cast it. Ten 
 thousand chisel-points polish and perfect it — put in the 
 fine touches, and bring out the features and expression. 
 It is a work of time ; but at last the full likeness comes 
 out, and stands fixed and unchanging in the solid marble. 
 So does a man carve out his own moral likeness. Every 
 day he adds something to the work. A thousand acts of 
 thought, and will, and deed, shape the features and expres- 
 sion of the soul — habits of love, and purity, and truth — 
 habits of falsehood, passion or goodness, silently mould 
 and fashion it, till at length it wears the likeness of God, 
 or the image and superscription of the evil one. 
 
 " I trust everything under God," said Lord Brougham, 
 " to habit, upon which, in all ages, the law giver as well 
 as the schoolmaster has mainly placed his reliance ; habit, 
 which makes everything easy, and casts all difficulties 
 upon a deviation from a wonted course. Make sobriety a 
 habit and intemperance will be hateful ; make prudence a 
 habit, and reckless profligacy will be as contrary to the 
 child, grown or adult, as the most atrocious crimes are to 
 any of your lordships. Give a child the habit of sacredly 
 regarding the truth ; of carefully respecting the property 
 of others; of scrupulously abstaining from all acts of 
 
HABIT. 677 
 
 improvidence which involves him in distress, and he will 
 be just as likely to think of rushing into an element in 
 which he cannot breathe, as of lying, or cheating, or 
 stealing." 
 
 Like flakes of snow that fall unperceived upon the 
 earth, the seemingly unimportant events of life succeed 
 one another. As the snow gathers together, so are our 
 habits formed. No single flake that is added to the pile 
 produces a sensible change ; no single action creates, how- 
 ever it may exhibit a man's character ; but as the temp- 
 est hurls the avalanche down the mountain, and over- 
 whelms the inhabitant and his habitation, so passion, act- 
 ing upon the elements of mischief, which pernicious habits 
 have brought together by imperceptible accumulation, 
 may overthrow the edifice of truth and virtue. 
 
 Few have sufficient respect for habit — the ease with 
 which it may be formed — the difficulty with which it can 
 be broken — the magical power with which it smooths the 
 rough path of duty, and enables us to look with indiffer- 
 ence upon the allurements of the world. It is a kind of 
 shield, which the fingers of a boy may, at first, weave of 
 threads light as gossamer, and which yet grows into the 
 strength of steel. By its aid the greatest things are 
 accomplished. Isolated acts are of little comparative 
 importance; but a correct habit of living is principle, 
 without which no one can be happy. 
 
 Habit eats so deeply into man's humanity, that, instead 
 of constituting no more than his second nature, it expels 
 the first, usurping the sovereignty. Our mind may turn 
 our eyes so long in the same direction, that never again 
 can we look quite straight. Thoughts, passions, affections, 
 are domesticated by custom. What is done from habit is 
 done without reflection, and without recollection. This 
 explains why we are so little able to give the reasons for 
 our past career, or to revive remembrance of its incidents. 
 
 As a man is brought up so is he. Future changes may 
 occur, but they will only sway, they cannot change the 
 original current. The line of conduct chosen by a young 
 man during the five years from fifteen to twenty will, in 
 almost every instance, determine his character for life. 
 
678 HABIT. 
 
 As he is then careful or careless, prudent or imprudent, 
 industrious or indolent, truthful or dissimulating, intel- 
 ligent or ignorant, temperate or dissolute, so will he be in 
 after years, and it needs no prophet to cast his horoscope 
 or calculate his chance in life. Habits make the man. 
 The boy who " don't like school " seldom likes business. 
 The young man who spends his evenings at the saloon, 
 generally finishes his course in the State prison. 
 
 We know but little of the mysterious connection between 
 soul and body. But one thing we know, that the habits 
 of the soul act upon the body, and the habits of the body 
 act upon the soul. A worldly man thinks very little of 
 this ; a man of sin and pleasure thinks of it very little : 
 yet it may be in this very way that he is engraving the 
 letters of his own future judgment on his own being. 
 No man knows when in a course of sinful indulgence, no 
 young man, in a career of sensual passion, no middle aged 
 man, in the pursuits of ambition, or the greedy grasp of 
 gain, what lines he is tracing, as with the pen of a dia- 
 mond, or burning in as with a pen of solid fire, upon his 
 spiritual being, hidden perhaps now, but by and by to 
 come out, and to be read through eternity. It is said that 
 the wicked shall be driven away in his wickedness : and 
 so the wicked soul may be launched into eternity, seared 
 and scorched in the sight of all the universe, with the 
 deep burnt engraving of his own sins, so that no book of 
 judgment would be needed to read them out of, either to 
 himself or angels. 
 
 It should become the habit of our lives to turn to God 
 for counsel and assistance in all affairs ; and in cases where 
 the flesh most calls for activity, when conflicts and emer- 
 gencies are most pressing, and everything is whirling with 
 excitement, then is the time to fall back and commune 
 with God, because then there is the least ground to hope 
 in the efficiency of our own wills. 
 
 " Habit at first is but a silken thread, 
 Fine as the light- winged gossamers that sway 
 In the warm sunbeams of a summer's day; 
 A shallow streamlet, rippling o'er its bed; 
 A tiny sapling, ere its roots are spread; 
 A yet unhardened thorn upon the spray; 
 
purpose. 679 
 
 A lion's whelp that hath not scented prey ; 
 
 A little smiling child obedient led. 
 
 Beware ! that thread may bind thee as a chain ; 
 
 That streamlet gather to a fatal sea; 
 
 That sapling spread into a gnarled tree ; 
 
 That thorn, grown hard, may wound and give thee pain ; 
 
 That playful whelp his murderous fangs reveal; 
 
 That child, a giant, crush thee 'neath his heel." 
 
 PURPOSE. 
 
 It is not eminent talent that is required to insure suc- 
 cess in any pursuit, so much as purpose. There is nothing 
 like a fixed, steady aim, with an honorable purpose. It 
 dignifies your nature, and insures your success. The 
 young man without a mark is like a ship at sea without 
 a compass or other means of knowing his destination and 
 speed. A man who has a fixed purpose to which he 
 devotes his powers, is invulnerable. Like the rock in the 
 sea, it splits the troubles of life, and they eddy round him 
 in idle foam. Some people are busy, and yet do nothing ; 
 they fatigue and wear themselves out, and yet arrive at 
 no point, nor purpose any general end of action or 
 design. 
 
 Always have an object in view ; and let your aim in 
 life be elevated. This is the safeguard of character, and 
 the mainspring of excellence. Aim at virtue and moral 
 excellence. This is the first, the indispensable qualifica- 
 tion of a good citizen. It imparts life and strength and 
 beauty, not only to individual character, but to all the 
 institutions and interests of society. 
 
 When a child is learning to walk, if you can induce the 
 little creature to keep its eyes fixed on any point in 
 advance, it will generally " navigate " to that point with- 
 out capsizing ; but distract its attention by word or act 
 from the object before it, and down goes the baby. The 
 rule applies to children of a larger growth. The man 
 who starts in life with a determination to reach a certain 
 position, and adheres unwaveringly to his purpose, reject- 
 ing the advice of the over-cautious, and defying the 
 
680 PURPOSE. 
 
 auguries of the timid, rarely fails if lie live long enough 
 to reach the goal for which he set out. If circumstances 
 oppose him, he bends them to his exigencies by the force 
 of energetic, indomitable will. On the other hand, he 
 who vacillates in his course, "yawning," as the sailors 
 say, toward all points of the compass, is pretty sure to 
 become a helpless castaway, before his voyage of life is 
 half completed. 
 
 There can be no question among philosophic observers 
 of men and events, that fixedness of purpose is a grand ele- 
 ment of human success. Weathercock men are Nature's fail- 
 ures. They are good for nothing. The men of action, whose 
 names are written imperishably on the page of history, 
 were men of iron. Silky fellows may do for intrigue, but 
 the founders, and conquerors, and liberators, and saviors 
 of empires have all been of the warrior metal. No 
 human being who habitually halts between two opinions, 
 who cannot decide promptly, and, having decided, acts as 
 if there were no such word as fail, can ever be great, 
 Ca?sar would never have crossed the Eubicon, nor Wash- 
 ington the Delaware, had they not fixed their stern gaze 
 on objects far beyond the perils at their feet. 
 
 Henry Ward Beecher. in one of his sermons, remarked : 
 "We see supreme purposes which men have formed 
 running through their whole career in this world. A 
 young man means to be a civil engineer. That is the 
 thing to which his mind is made up; not his father's 
 mind, perhaps, but his. He feels his adaptation to that 
 calling, and his drawing toward it. He is young, inex- 
 perienced, forgetful, accessible to youthful sympathies, and 
 is frequently drawn aside from his life jmrpose. To-day 
 he attends a picnic. Next week he devotes a day to some 
 other excursion. Occasionally he loses a day in con- 
 sequence of fatigue caused by over action. Thus there is 
 a link knocked out of the chain of this week, and a link 
 out of the chain of that week. And in the course of the 
 summer he takes a whole week, or a fortnight out of that 
 purpose. 
 
 "Yet there is the thing in his mind, whether he sleeps 
 or wakes. If you had asked him a month a°:o what he 
 
PUKPOSE. 681 
 
 meant to be in life, he would have replied, c I mean to be 
 a civil engineer.' And if you ask him to-day what has 
 been the tendency of his life, he will say, c I have been 
 preparing myself to be a civil engineer.' If he waits and 
 does nothing, the reason is that he wants an opportunity 
 to carry out his purpose. That purpose governs his course, 
 and he will not engage in anything that would conflict 
 with it. 
 
 " These generic principles in the soul are like those 
 great invisible laws of nature, whose effects are seen in 
 the falling of the pebble-stone, in ail the various changes 
 which natural objects undergo. When a man has formed 
 in his mind a great sovereign purpose, it governs his con- 
 duct, as the law of nature governs the operation of physical 
 things." 
 
 Every man should have a mark in view, and pursue it 
 steadily. He should not be turned from his course by 
 other objects ever so attractive. Life is not long enough 
 for any one man to accomplish everything. Indeed but 
 few can at best accomplish more than one thing well. 
 Many, alas, very many ! accomplish nothing worthy. 
 Yet there is not a man endowed with fair or ordinary 
 intellect or capacity but can accomplish at least one useful, 
 important, worthy purpose. 
 
 But few men could ever succeed in more than one of 
 the learned professions. Perhaps the man never lived 
 who could master and become eminent in the practice of 
 all of them. Certainly not in them, and also in agricult- 
 ure and the mechanic arts. Not because one man was 
 never endowed with capacity for any of those pursuits or 
 callings as he might choose. Our country, every country 
 abounds with men possessing sufficient natural capacity 
 for almost or quite any pursuit they might select and pur- 
 sue exclusively. But the reason is simply because no one 
 man has the time, even if he have the capacity, to master 
 and pursue with eminent success, so many and such widely 
 different avocations. Indeed, man's days, at most, are so 
 few, and his capacity, at the highest, so small, that never 
 yet has he even by confining the united efforts and energies 
 of his lifetime at the most trivial pursuit, much less in the 
 
682 will. 
 
 deep and intricate learned professions, attained to perfec- 
 tion ; and he never will. How much less then are the 
 probabilities of him exhausting several, and those perhaps 
 the most complicated spheres of man's activity. 
 
 Let man have one purpose in view, and let him not 
 under any consideration lose sight of that. Neither let 
 him loiter by the way, nor wander from the direct path. 
 He may sometimes be compelled to step aside from the 
 straight path, he may have outside duties to perform, but 
 let them be subservient to that fixed purpose; and his 
 purpose ever onward till the end is accomplished. 
 
 WILL. 
 
 It is will, — force of purpose, — that enables a man to 
 do or be whatever he sets his mind on being or doing. A 
 holy man was accustomed to say, " Whatever you wish, 
 that you are ; for such is the force of our will, joined to 
 the Divine, that whatever we wish to be, seriously, and 
 with a true intention, that we become. No one ardently 
 wishes to be submissive, patient, modest, or liberal, who 
 does not become what he wishes." 
 
 Each individual feels and knows that practically he is 
 free to choose between good and evil. It would paralyze 
 all desire of excellence were it otherwise. The entire 
 business and conduct of life, with its domestic rules, its 
 social arrangements, and its public institutions, proceed 
 upon the practical conviction that the will is free. In 
 every movement of our lives, conscience is proclaiming 
 that the will is free. It is the only thing that is wholly 
 ours, and it rests solely with ourselves individually, 
 whether we give it the right or wrong direction. Our 
 habits or our temptations are not our masters, be we of 
 them. 
 
 Will is the monarch of the mind, ruling with despotic, 
 and at times with tyrannical powers. It is the rudder of 
 the mind, giving directions to its movements. It is the 
 engineer giving course and point, speed and force to the 
 
will. 683 
 
 mental machinery. It acts like a tonic among the soul's 
 languid powers. It is the band that ties into a strong 
 bundle the separate faculties of the soul. It is the man's 
 momentum; in a word, it is that power by which the 
 energy or energies of the soul are concentrated on a given 
 point, or in a particular direction : it fuses the faculties 
 into one mass, so that instead of scattering all over like 
 grape and canister, they spend their united force on one 
 point. The intellect is the legislative department, the 
 sensibilities are the judicial, and the will the executive. 
 
 Said Lammenais once, " That which the easiest becomes 
 a habit in us is the will. Learn then to will strongly and 
 decisively." Buxton held the conviction that a young 
 man might be very much what he pleased, provided he 
 formed a strong resolution and held to it. He said, i; I 
 am sure he may. In my own case it was so. Much of 
 the happiness and all of my prosperity in life have 
 resulted from the change that I made at an early age." 
 He adds, i: If you seriously resolve to be energetic and 
 industrious, depend upon it that you will for your whole 
 life have reason to rejoice that you were wise enough to 
 form and act upon that determination." As will, con- 
 sidered without regard to direction, is simply constancv. 
 firmness, perseverance, it will be obvious that everything 
 depends upon right direction and motives. Directed 
 towards the enjoyment of the senses, the strong will may 
 be a demon, and the intellect merely its debased slave ; 
 but directed towards good, the strong will is a king, and 
 the intellect is then the minister of man's highest well- 
 being. 
 
 The indomitable will, the inflexible purpose, looking: for 
 future good through present evil, have always begot con- 
 fidence and commanded success, while the opposite qualities 
 have as truly led to timid resolves, uncertain councils. 
 alternate exaltation and depression, and final disappoint- 
 ment and disaster. A vacillating policy, irresolute 
 councils, unstable will, subordination of the future to 
 the present, efforts to relieve ourselves from existing 
 trouble without providing against its recurrence, may 
 bring momentary quiet, but expose us to greater disquiet 
 
684 will. 
 
 than ever hereafter. A double-minded man is unstable in 
 all his ways. Unstable as water, thou shalt not excel. 
 
 Says Shakespeare, " Our bodies are our gardens ; to the 
 which, our wills are gardeners : so that if we will plant 
 nettles, or sow lettuce ; set hyssop, or weed up thyme ; 
 supply it with one gender of herbs, or distract it with 
 many ; either to have it sterile with idleness, or manured 
 with industry; why, the power and corrigible authority 
 of this lies in our wills." Where there is a will there is 
 a way. Nothing is impossible to him who wills. Will is 
 the root; knowledge the stem and leaves; feeling the 
 flower. 
 
 Mr. Walker, author of the " Original," had so great a 
 faith in the power of the will, that he says on one occasion 
 he determined to be well, and he was so. This may 
 answer once; but, though safer to follow than prescrip- 
 tions, it will not always succeed. The power of mind over 
 body is no doubt great, but it may be strained until the 
 physical power breaks down altogether. It is related of 
 Muley Moloc, the Moorish leader, that when lying ill, 
 almost worn out by an incurable disease, a battle took 
 place between his troops and the Portugese ; when, start- 
 ing from his litter at the great crisis of the fight, he rallied 
 his army, led them to victory, and instantly afterwards 
 sank exhausted and expired. 
 
 ." Where there is a will there is a way," is an old and 
 true saying. He who resolves upon doing a thing, by 
 that very resolution often scales the barriers to it, and 
 secures its achievement. To think we are able is almost 
 to be so, — to determine upon attainment, is frequently 
 attainment itself. Thus, earnest resolution has often 
 seemed to have about it almost a savor of Omnipotence. 
 a You can only half will," Suwarrow would say to people 
 who failed. " I don't know," " I can't," and " impossible," 
 were words which he detested above all others. " Learn ! 
 do ! try ! " he would exclaim. 
 
 One of Napoleon's favorite maxims was, "The truest 
 wisdom is a resolute determination." His life, beyond 
 most others, vividly showed what a powerful and unscru- 
 pulous will could accomplish. He threw his whole force 
 
will. 685 
 
 of body and mind direct upon his work. Imbecile rulers 
 and the nations they governed went down before him in 
 succession. He was told that the Alps stood in the way of 
 his armies. " There shall be no Alps/' he said, and the 
 road across the Simplon was constructed, through a dis- 
 trict formerly almost inaccessible. " Impossible/' said he, 
 "is a word only to be found in the dictionary of fools." 
 He was a man who toiled terribly ; sometimes employing 
 and exhausting four secretaries at a time. He spared no 
 one, not even himself. His influence inspired other men 
 and put a new life into them. " I made my generals out 
 of mud," he said. But all was of no avail : for Napoleon's 
 intense selfishness was his ruin, and the ruin of France, 
 which he left a prey to anarchy. His life taught the 
 lesson that power, however energetically wielded, without 
 beneficence, is fatal to its possessor and its subjects ; and 
 that knowledge, or knowingness, without goodness, is but 
 the incarnate principle of evil. 
 
 If you expect success in any undertaking, you must 
 enter into it with a hearty and earnest will to do your 
 best. When your trade or profession is chosen, obstacles, 
 be they large or small, must not be allowed to stand in 
 your way. A dauntless hand and earnest heart overcome 
 difficulties that a laggard would shrink from. He who, 
 early in life, makes up his mind to succeed, and goes to 
 work, throws off his coat, rolls up his sleeves, drives 
 ahead in earnest, and labors right on, through sunshine 
 and storm, in summer and in winter, that man will suc- 
 ceed. There is no such word as fail with him. Reverses 
 only stimulate to effort ; success does not intoxicate, but 
 encourages directness and labor. 
 
 The judgment is like a pair of scales, and evidence like 
 the weights ; but the will holds the balances in its hand ; 
 and even a slight jerk will be sufficient, in many cases, 
 to make the lighter scale appear the heavier. 
 
 Men often speak of breaking the will of a child ; but it 
 seems to us a great mistake. The will needs regulating, 
 not destroying. We should as soon think of breaking the 
 legs of a horse in training him, as a child's will. We 
 never yet heard of a will in itself too strong, more than of 
 
'686 COURAGE. 
 
 an arm too mighty, or a mind too comprehensive in its 
 grasp, or too powerful in its hold. We would discipline 
 and develop the will into harmonious proportions. The 
 instruction of a child should be such as to animate, inspire 
 and train, but not to hew, cut and carve ; for we would 
 always treat a child as a live tree, which was to be helped 
 to grow, never as dry, dead timber to be carved into this 
 or that shape, and have certain grooves cut in it. A liv 
 ing tree, and not dead timber, is every child, and its will 
 to be and do good should be cultivated. 
 
 We should have wills that are firm as everlasting 
 adamant — immovably "set in the way" of doing the 
 will of God. 
 
 COUKAGE. 
 
 Nothing that is of real worth can be achieved without 
 courageous working. Man owes his growth chiefly to 
 that active striving of the will, that encounter with dif- 
 ficulty, which we call effort ; and it is astonishing to find 
 how often results apparently impracticable are thus made 
 possible. An intense anticipation itself transforms possi- 
 bility into reality; our desires being often but the pre- 
 cursers of the things which we are capable of performing. 
 On the contrary, the timid and hesitating find everything 
 impossible, chiefly because it seems so. It is related of 
 a young French officer, that he used to walk about his 
 apartment exclaiming, " I will be Marshall of France and 
 a great general." This ardent desire was the presen- 
 timent of his success ; for he did become a distinguished 
 commander, and he died a marshall of France. 
 
 To believe a business impossible, is the way to make it 
 so. How many feasible projects have miscarried through 
 despondency, and been strangled in the birth by a cow- 
 ardly imagination. It is better to meet danger than to 
 wait for it. A ship on a lee shore stands out to sea in a 
 storm to escape shipwreck. Impossibilities, like vicious 
 dogs, fly before him who is not afraid of them. Should 
 
- - ' 
 
 : : . -r: : = th i 
 
COURAGE. 687 
 
 misfortune overtake, retrench — work harder — but never 
 fly the track — confront difficulties with unflinching per- 
 severance. Should }'ou then fail, you will be honored; 
 but shrink, and you will be despised. When you put your 
 hands to a work, let the fact of your doing so constitute 
 the evidence that you mean to prosecute it to the end. 
 Stand like a beaten anvil. It is the part of a great 
 champion to be stricken and conquer. 
 
 Courage, like cowardice, is undoubtedly contagious, but 
 some persons are not at all liable to catch it. The atten- 
 tion of restless and fickle men turns to no account; pov- 
 erty overtakes them whilst they are flying so many differ- 
 ent ways to escape it. What is called courage is often- 
 times nothing more than the fear of being thought a cow- 
 ard. The reverence that restrains us from violating the 
 laws of God or man is not unfrequently branded with the 
 name of cowardice. The Spartans had a saying, that he 
 who stood most in fear of the law, generally showed the 
 least fear of an enemy. And we may infer the truth of 
 this from the reverse of the proposition, for daily expe- 
 rience shows us that they who are the most daring in a 
 bad cause are often the most pusillanimous in a good 
 one. 
 
 Plutarch says courage consists not in hazarding with- 
 out fear, but by being resolute in a just cause. An 
 officer, after a very severe battle, on being complimented 
 on standing his ground firmly, under a terrible fire, replied, 
 " Ah, if you knew how I was frightened, you would com- 
 pliment me more still." It is not the stolid man, or the 
 reckless man, who exhibits the noblest bravery in the 
 great battle of life. It is the man whose nerves and con- 
 science are all alive ; who looks before and behind ; who 
 weighs well all the probabilities of success or defeat, and 
 is determined to stand his ground. There is another fine 
 anecdote apropos to this subject : A phrenologist exam- 
 ining the head of the Duke of Wellington, said, " Your 
 Grace has not the organ of animal courage largely devel- 
 oped." "You are right," replied the great man, "and 
 but for my sense of duty I should have retreated in my 
 first fight." This first fight, in India, was one of the 
 
688 COURAGE. 
 
 most terrible on record. Oh, that word " duty ! " What 
 is animal courage compared with it? Duty can create 
 that courage, or its equivalent, but that courage never can 
 create duty. The Duke of Wellington saw a man turn 
 pale as he marched up to a battery. " That is a brave 
 man," said he, " he knows his danger and faces it." 
 
 To lead the forlorn hope in the field of carnage requires 
 less nerve than to fight nobly and unshrinkingly the 
 bloodless battle of life. To bear evil speaking and illit- 
 erate judgment with equanimity, is the highest bravery. 
 It is, in fact, the repose of mental courage. 
 
 No one can tell who the heroes are, and who the cow- 
 ards, until some crisis comes to put us to the test. And 
 no crisis puts us to the test that does not bring us up alone 
 and single-handed to face danger. It is nothing to make 
 a rush with the multitude even into the jaws of destruc- 
 tion. Sheep will do that. Armies might be picked from 
 the gutter, and marched up to make food for powder. 
 But when some crisis singles one out from the multitude, 
 pointing at him the particular finger of fate, and telling 
 him, " Stand or run," and he faces about with steady nerve, 
 with nobody else to stand behind, we may be sure the 
 hero stuff is in him. When such a crisis comes, the true 
 courage is just as likely to be found in people of shrink- 
 ing nerves, or in weak and timid women, as in great burly 
 people. It is a moral, not a physical trait. Its seat is 
 not in the temperament, but the will. How courageous 
 Peter was, and all those square-built fishermen of the sea 
 of Galilee, at the Last Supper, and in the garden of Geth- 
 semane, where Peter drew his sword and smote the officer! 
 But when Christ looked down from his cross, whom did 
 he see standing in that focus of Jewish rage? None of 
 those stout fishermen, but a young man and a tender- 
 hearted woman — John and Mary. 
 
 A good cause makes a courageous heart. They that fear 
 an overthrow, are half conquered. To be valorous is not 
 always to be venturous. A warm heart requires a cool 
 head; courage without conduct is like fancy without judg- 
 ment, all sail and no ballast. True valor protects the 
 feeble, and humbles the oppressor. Have the courage to 
 
COURAGE. 689 
 
 show your respect for honesty in whatever guise it appears ; 
 and your contempt for dishonesty and duplicity, by whom- 
 soever exhibited. The moral courage which will face 
 obloquy in a good cause, is a much rarer virtue than the 
 physical valor, which will confront death in a bad one. 
 The moral hero is one whose voice is often at first alone, 
 a still small voice in the moral desert against the wind 
 and the earthquake and the fire of strong and evil passion. 
 Do not be discouraged by obstacles. Despair is the 
 result of doubt. Doubt God's fatherliness, man's brother- 
 liness, and the need of your own soul, and you have begun, 
 unconsciously, to twist the three cords in the cable of 
 despair, which the Devil waits to coil round you and tie 
 in a Gordian knot — defying every hand save His beneath 
 whose lightest finger-touch the most perplexing tangle of 
 mystery is swept away, as easily as the gossamer web that 
 glimmers on the grass. Doubt is the beginning of error. 
 
 -Our doubts are traitors, 
 
 And make us lose the good we might win 
 By fearing to attempt. " 
 
 But far above the courage of blood is the courage of 
 character — the will. There are many books on the will. 
 There is Edwards, and Hopkins, and Kant, and Hegel, 
 but it remains a mystery and a miracle, and when it 
 appears in a man he is a hero, and all the metaphysics in 
 the world is dumb before him, and shares the astonish- 
 ment. As soon as we rise to the hights of courage, we 
 come to the grand models of mankind. We have come 
 to the secret of the will, which is the antagonist of fate, 
 which is the presence always of spiritual power, the pres- 
 ence of God in man — always miraculous, and "past find- 
 ing out." 
 
 If there is any man who has no faith in a Beneficent 
 Power above us, but sees only an adamantine fate coiling 
 its inevitable folds about men, to him I say, the best use 
 of fate is to teach us courage, like the Turk. Go face the 
 fire at sea, or the cholera in a friend's house, or the burglar 
 in your own, or whatever danger lies in the way of duty, 
 knowing that you are guarded by destiny. 
 
 44 
 
690 COURAGE. 
 
 Two instances occurred in the recent riot in New York, 
 which show what the courage of a single man may do. 
 The mob threatened and approached a house. One man, not 
 its owner, nor his friend, stood on the steps as the crowd 
 came on. The leader rushed forward. Said this hero : 
 "You shall enter this house only over my dead body." 
 They stopped, hesitated, swore, and retreated, leaving the 
 house unharmed. One brave heart protected it. A negro 
 was pursued by a howling mob of thirty or forty, bent on 
 killing him. Hundreds saw it, and stirred not ; lifted not 
 voice or hand to defend him. But there was one man 
 not a coward. He ran forward, threw his arm about the 
 negro, faced the mob, drew his revolver, and announced, 
 " The first man who approaches, dies." And he saved him. 
 
 An instance of the truest kind of courage is related of 
 a little drummer boy in the late war, who had become a 
 great favorite with many of the officers, by his unremit- 
 ting good nature. He happened on one occasion to be in 
 the officers' tent when the bane of the soldier's life passed 
 round. A captain handed a glass to the little fellow, but 
 he refused it, saying, " I am a cadet of temperance, and 
 do not taste strong drink." " But you must take some 
 now. I insist on it. You belong to our mess to-day, and 
 cannot refuse." Still the boy stood firm on the rock of 
 total abstinence, and held fast to his integrity. The cap- 
 tain, turning to the major, said: "H is afraid to 
 
 drink ; he will never make a soldier." " How is this ? " 
 said the major, playfully ; and then assuming another 
 tone, added, " I command you take a drink, and you know 
 it is death to disobey orders." The little hero, raising his 
 young form to its full hight, and fixing his clear blue 
 eyes, lit up with unusual brilliancy, on the face of the 
 officer, said, " Sir, my father died a drunkard ; and when 
 I entered the army I promised my dear mother, on my 
 bended knees, that by the help of God I would not taste 
 a drop of rum, and I mean to keep my promise. I am 
 sorry to disobey your orders, sir ; but I would rather suf- 
 fer than disgrace my mother, and break my* temperance 
 pledge." 
 
AMBITION. • 691 
 
 AMBITION. 
 
 Seneca observes well, that it is the constant fault and 
 inseparable ill-quality of ambition, never to look behind 
 it, The same action which has a diadem for its aim, has 
 often an ignominious death for its end. The tallest trees 
 are most in the power of the winds, and so are ambitious 
 men in the power of the blasts of fortune. Great marks 
 are soonest hit. Ambition often plays the wrestler's trick 
 of raising a man up merely to throw him down. Ambi- 
 tion's rise may be virtue's fall. 
 
 Ambition makes the same mistake concerning power, 
 that avarice makes concerning wealth : she begins by 
 accumulating power, as a mean to happiness, and she 
 finishes by continuing to accumulate it as an end. Ambi- 
 tion is, in fact, the avarice of power, and happiness her- 
 self is soon sacrificed to that very lust of dominion which 
 was first encouraged only as the best mode of obtaining it. 
 
 Ambition to rule, is more vehement than malice to 
 
 revenge. 
 
 Be careful lest a too warm desire for distinction should 
 deceive you into pursuits that may cover you with shame, 
 by setting your incapacity and slender abilities in full 
 light. Aim not too high, lest you fall; nor lie on the 
 ground, lest you be trampled upon ; you are safest when 
 your legs bear you. Danger always attendeth at the heels 
 of pride and ambition. 
 
 " Like kings we lose the conquests gained before 
 By vain ambition still to make them more." 
 
 As the pearl, which is the object of universal admira- 
 tion, is produced by the disease of the oyster, so do many 
 of the most illustrious actions originate in that mental 
 disease — an overweening ambition. 
 
 " Ambition," says Swift, "often puts men upon doing 
 the meanest offices, so climbing is performed in the same 
 posture as creeping." Nothing is humbler than ambition 
 when it is about to climb. There are no other persons 
 
692 AMBITION. 
 
 capable of stooping so low as they who are over-anxious 
 to rise. The ambitious man treats his friends like the 
 rounds of a ladder, first seizing them by the hand to 
 mount upward, and then trampling them under foot. 
 Walter Scott says, " Ambition breaks the ties of blood and 
 forgets the obligations of gratitude." The road ambition 
 travels is too narrow for friendship, too crooked for love, 
 too rugged for honesty, and too dark for conscience. 
 
 The professed reason for Napoleon's divorce from Jose- 
 phine was the want of children. So he got his divorce, 
 married again, and had a son, who lived and died a 
 prisoner of state. Could the man of destiny have looked 
 into the future, he would have seen that justice is better 
 than an heir. Selfish ambition is always sure to make a 
 fool of a man at last. 
 
 A man that is desirous to excel, should endeavor in 
 those things which are in themselves most excellent. The 
 most laudable ambition, is to be wise; and the greatest 
 wisdom, is to be good. We may be as ambitious as we 
 please, if we aspire to the best things. The chief ingre- 
 dient in the composition of those qualities that gain 
 esteem and praise, are good nature, truth, good sense, and 
 good breeding. Ambition, when lawless, is a curse ; when 
 guided by wisdom, a blessing to its possessor and a 
 benefactor of the race. The loftiest, the most angel-like 
 ambition is the earnest desire to contribute to the rational 
 happiness and moral improvement of others. If we can 
 smooth the rugged path of one fellow traveler, if we can 
 give one truthful impression, is it not better than all the 
 triumphs that fashion, wealth, and power ever attained ? 
 
 Patrick Adamson was once a preacher of highly dis- 
 tinguished popularity. Pride and ambition, however, 
 influenced his sacred calling. By his influence and 
 popular talents he rose rapidly in church preferment, 
 until he obtained the mitre, and became Archbishop 
 of St. Andrews. Dazzled with the grandeur and dig- 
 nity to which he had attained, and vain of the powers 
 which his office combined, he commenced a violent per- 
 secution against his inferior brethren, at which he was 
 frequently heard to say, that of whatever else he might 
 
AMBITION. 693 
 
 be deprived, of three things he was certain, his riches, 
 his learning, and the king's favor. But how vain was 
 his boasting ! A short time only elapsed before, in the 
 face of all the people, the judgment of God overtook him, 
 and his pride and cruelty became his ruin. His intel- 
 lectual powers, of which he boasted, withered, so that, 
 although his eloquence was greatly admired, he was 
 unable to express himself, even in a few words, with 
 coherency : his riches made unto themselves wings and 
 flew away, until he was obliged to seek and subsist on 
 charity from those very ministers he had persecuted ; 
 while the king's favor in which he trusted, not only was 
 lost, but he became so far the object of his abhorrence, 
 that the prelate himself declared " he was sure the king 
 did care more for the worst of his dogs than for him ; " 
 and thus cast off by the world, whose favor he had sought, 
 and by Him "whose favor is life," but whose favor he 
 had rejected, he lived and died in the greatest misery and 
 want. 
 
 "Oh, how wretched 
 Is that poor man, that hangs on prince's favor! 
 And he, and every one, that God's blest smile 
 And his soul's peace, barters for earthly trash." 
 
 The following is told of St. Phillippo Neri : He was 
 living at one of the Italian universities, when a young 
 man, whom he had known as a boy, ran up to him 
 with a face full of delight, and told him what he had 
 been long wishing above all things in the world was 
 at length fulfilled, his parents having just given him 
 leave to study the law ; and that thereupon he had come 
 to the law school in this university on account of its great 
 fame, and meant to spare no pains or labor in getting 
 through his studies as quickly and as well as possible. 
 In this way he ran on a long time, and when at last he 
 came to a stop, the holy man, who had been listening to 
 him with great patience and kindness, said : " Well, 
 and when you have got through your course of studies, 
 what do you mean to do then ? " " Then I shall take 
 my doctor's degree," answered the young man. "And 
 then?" asked St. Phillippo Neri, again. "And then," 
 
694 AMBITION". 
 
 continued the youth, " I shall have a number of difficult 
 and knotty cases to manage, and shall catch people's 
 notice by my eloquence, my zeal, my learning, my acute- 
 ness, and gain a great reputation." " And then ? " repeated 
 the holy man. " And then," replied the youth, " why 
 then I shall be promoted to some high office or other; 
 besides I shall make money and grow rich." "And 
 then ? " repeated St. Phillippo Neri. "And then," pur- 
 sued the young lawyer — "then I shall live comfortably 
 and honorably in wealth and dignity ; and shall be able 
 to look forward quietly to a happy old age." "And 
 then ? " asked the old man. "And then," said the youth — 
 "and then — and then — I shall die." Here St. Pil- 
 lippo again lifted up his voice and said, "And then ? " 
 whereupon the young man made no answer, but cast down 
 his head and went away. This last "And then?" had 
 pierced like a flash of lightning into his soul, and he could 
 not get rid of it. Soon after he forsook the study of law, 
 and gave himself up to the ministry, and spent the remain- 
 der of his days in godly words and works. 
 
 There is a loftier structure, let me say to the young 
 aspirant embarking on the rough waters of strife, than 
 the one faintly imagined in yonder clouds. There is a 
 temple of God, adorned with moral beauty and grandeur, 
 such as pearls, and gems, and rainbow tints can but faintly 
 symbolize. Let thy ambition fix on this bright abode ! 
 Let all thy energies be enlisted in reaching it. There is 
 a field of enterprise, too, here below, where the highest 
 intellect may find scope, and the purest benevolence exer- 
 cise. It is found in turning men to righteousness. They 
 who labor successfully in this field, shall not only have a 
 calm satisfaction in the work, but shall shine at last " as 
 the stars, forever and ever." 
 
EMPLOYMENT. 695 
 
 EMPLOYMENT 
 
 Every man. rich or poor, ought to have some great 
 absorbing purpose, some active employment to which his 
 main energies are devoted. Duty— daily duty, not enjoy- 
 ment — must be the aim of each life. No man has a right 
 to live upon this fair earth, to breathe its pure air, to con- 
 sume its food, to enjoy its beauties, producing nothing in 
 return. 
 
 The habit of being always employed is a great safe- 
 guard through life, as well as essential to the culture of 
 almost every virtue. " It is employment that makes 
 people happy," says Daniel Webster. " This great truth 
 ought never to be forgotten ; it ought to be placed on the 
 title page of every book on political economy, intended 
 for America, and such countries as America. It ought to 
 head the columns of every farmer's magazine and 
 mechanic's magazine. It should be proclaimed every- 
 where. The great truth should be made into a proverb, 
 if it could, that where there is work for the hands of 
 men — where there is employment there will be bread ; and 
 in a country like our own, above all others, will this truth 
 hold good. If the masses can obtain fair compensation 
 for their labor, they will have good houses, good clothing, 
 good food, and the means of educating their children 
 from their labor ; that labor will be cheerful, and they will 
 be a contented and happy people." 
 
 " Employment so certainly produces cheerfulness," says 
 Bishop Hall, " that I have known a man to come home in 
 high spirits from a funeral, because he had the manage- 
 ment of it." The best thing to give to the poor is 
 employment. The doctors will tell you, and your own 
 observation will con#rm, that the healthiest men in the 
 world are the men most actively employed. The child's 
 hymn has it that Satan finds mischief for idle hands; 
 and the ghastly goddess of ill health and disease finds 
 mischief for sluggish blood and indolent muscles. 
 
 Employment is the greatest instrument of intellectual 
 
696 OCCUPATION. 
 
 dominion. The perfect and entire union of duty and 
 inclination in our employments constitutes genius. 
 
 Let the young man remember, there is nothing derog- 
 atory in any employment which ministers to the well- 
 being of the race. It is the spirit that is carried into an 
 employment that elevates or degrades it. The plowman 
 that turns the clod may be a Cincinnatus or a Washing- 
 ton, or he may be brother to the clod he turns. It is 
 every way creditable to handle the yard-stick and to 
 measure tape ; the only discredit consists in having a soul 
 whose range of thought is as short as the stick, and as 
 narrow as the tape. There is no glory in the act of affix- 
 ing a signature by which the treasures of commerce are 
 transferred, or treaties between nations are ratified; the 
 glory consists in the rectitude of the purpose that approves 
 the one, and the grandeur of the philanthropy that sanc- 
 tifies the other. " The time is soon coming," says Horace 
 Mann, " when, by the common consent of mankind, it 
 will be esteemed more honorable to have been John Pounds, 
 putting new and beautiful souls into the ragged children 
 of the neighborhood, while he mended their father's shoes, 
 than to have sat on the British throne. The time now is, 
 when, if Queen Victoria, in one of her magnificent ' prog- 
 resses ' through her realms were to meet that more than 
 American queen, Miss Dix, in her c circumnavigation of 
 charity ' among the insane, the former should kneel and 
 kiss the hand of the latter; and the ruler of a hundred 
 millions of people should pay homage to the angel whom 
 God has sent to the maniac." 
 
 OCCUPATION. 
 
 Man must have occupation or be iftserable. Toil is the 
 price of sleep and appetite — of health and enjoyment. 
 The very necessity which overcomes our natural sloth is 
 a blessing. The mind requires some object on which its 
 powers must be exercised, and without which it preys 
 upon itself and becomes miserable. A person accustomed 
 
OCCUPATION. 697 
 
 to a life of activity longs for ease and retirement, and 
 when he has accomplished this purpose, finds himself 
 wretched. The pleasure of relaxation is known to those 
 only who have regular and interesting occupation. Con- 
 tinued relaxation soon becomes a weariness ; and on this 
 ground, we may safely assert that the greatest degree of 
 real enjoyment belongs not to the luxurious man of 
 wealth, or to the listless votary of fashion, but to the 
 middle classes of society, who, along with the comforts of 
 life, have constant and important occupation. 
 
 Mulley Molock, emperor of Morocco, spent his whole 
 time in devising plans to keep the minds of his subjects 
 engaged. " If a parcel of rats," said he once to a British 
 ambassador, " are permitted to remain in a bag, they'll 
 eat it; but if you keep shaking it, they will not" — a 
 quaint way of saying that " idleness is the mother of mis- 
 chief." The orientals always put homely truths in a 
 pictorial way. 
 
 What a glorious thing is occupation for the human 
 heart. Those who work hard seldom yield themselves 
 entirely up to fancied or real sorrow. When grief sits 
 down, folds its hands, and mournfully feeds upon its own 
 tears, weaving the dim shadows, that a little exertion 
 might sweep away, into a funeral pall, the strong spirit is 
 shorn of its might, and sorrow becomes our master. When 
 troubles flow upon you, dark and heavy, toil not with the 
 waves — wrestle not with the torrent; rather seek, by 
 occupation, to divert the dark waters that threaten to 
 overwhelm you, into a thousand channels which the duties 
 of life always present. Before you dream of it, those 
 waters will fertilize the present, and give birth to fresh 
 flowers that may brighten the future — flowers that will 
 become pure and holy, in the sunshine which penetrates 
 the path of duty, in spite of every obstacle. 
 
 The want of prober occupation is the cause of more 
 than half of the petty frets of life. And right occupation 
 will be a medicine for half the minor ills of life. A man 
 without any proper aim in life, without moral inspiration, 
 too rich to be industrious, and a prey to the thousand 
 frets of unoccupied leisure, sometimes sets himself to pray 
 
698 OCCUPATION. 
 
 against his troubles. Now, a man might as well pray 
 against the particles of sand in Sahara, as a lazy man to 
 pray against petty troubles. Therefore it happens, some- 
 times, that bankruptcy brings a man what all his wealth 
 failed to give — happiness; for he has real troubles, and 
 trouble is a good medicine for trouble. It is a moral 
 counter — irritation. 
 
 The idea of " respectable employment " is the rock upon 
 which thousands split, and which shipwrecks themselves 
 and all who depend upon them. All employments are 
 alike respectable that bring honest gain. The laborer 
 who is willing to turn his hands to anything is as respect- 
 able as the clerk, salesman or book-keeper. Indeed, the 
 man who is read}' to work wherever work offers, whatever 
 it may be, rather than lie idle and beg, is by far a more 
 respectable man than one who turns up his nose at hard 
 labor, wearies his friends with his complaint that he can 
 find nothing respectable to do, pockets their benefactions 
 without thankfulness, and goes on from day to day, a use- 
 less, lazy grumbler. The only remedy is for him to arise 
 and go out and seek emplojmient, throw the false idea of 
 respectability to the winds, and become in reality a respect- 
 able man by becoming a useful man. 
 
 Strive for employment of some kind. If you fail on 
 the first application, try the second, and so on ; even if you 
 fail ninety-nine times, the hundredth application may be 
 triumphant. " Try again " should be the encouraging 
 motto of all who are looking for employment. Waiting, 
 Micawber like, for something to turn up, won't help you ! 
 The world will help those who are striving to help them- 
 selves. 
 
 The selfish maxim, " The world owes me a living," 
 never advantaged any one ; but it has carried many to 
 the almshouse and more we fear to the prison. There is 
 enough in the world for every man, but the condition upon 
 which that living is attainable is expressed in a word : 
 effort. The sentence, " In the sweat of thy face shalt 
 thou eat bread," is in full force, and it would be a woful 
 day for humanity were that sentence reversed. In obedi- 
 ence to that condition, we secure health, both of body and 
 
occupation. 699 
 
 mind, and make life the blessing which a merciful Prov- 
 idence designed that it should be. 
 
 Some young persons entertain curious notions as to the 
 choice of a profession. Carried away by the glitter of 
 uniform and the splendid pageantry of the soldier's life, 
 nothing will please them short of entering the army ; or, 
 perhaps, carried away with the narration of maritime 
 adventures, they resolve upon following the hazardous pro- 
 fession of a sailor. But a very little experience of the 
 realities of life generally banishes these idle dreams. 
 Others pitch upon the clerical profession as most suitable 
 to their ideas of living an easy and dignified existence, 
 and enjoying the reverence of those around them. Many 
 more equally delude themselves with regard to what are 
 called professions. 
 
 Says Hannah More, " We are apt to mistake our voca- 
 tion in looking out of the way for occasions to exercise 
 great and rare virtues, and stepping over ordinary ones 
 which lie directly in the road before us. When we read, 
 we fancy we could be martyrs ; when we come to the act, 
 we find we cannot bear a provoking word." Whatever 
 situation in life you wish or propose for yourself, acquire 
 a clear, lucid idea of the inconveniences attending it. 
 Don't sigh for some imaginary field of labor. All hills 
 look romantic in the distance. 
 
 As a rule every young man should adopt that vocation 
 in life for which he is best suited ; he should do that which 
 he can do best. What this is will pretty surely be 
 revealed to him by the expression of his aptitude. There 
 are many youths of versatile genius who seem to have an 
 equal capacity for all callings and no special aptitude for 
 any, and we sometimes encounter one who seems to be 
 unfit for anything and out of whom nothing can be made. 
 There are few of the latter class, and concerning them 
 we have nothing to advise. 
 
 The versatile class may select their vocation at random, 
 or yield themselves up to the influence and direction of 
 seeming accidents, if they will; their talents will guar- 
 antee them against failure, provided, after they have 
 chosen their profession or trade, they stick faithfully 
 
700 OCCUPATION. 
 
 to it, and turn all their versatile capacities into the pur- 
 suit of it. 
 
 But the great mass of young men develop a desire or 
 preference for a particular calling ; this preference is a safe 
 instinct to follow ; it is the finger-board that points out 
 the road for one to pursue, and as a general rule the road 
 it points out ought to be adopted. 
 
 The difficulty is that in this impatient age the first 
 thing expected of a young man, and the first thing he 
 desires to do, is to make money; and in obeying this 
 impulse he is apt to lose sight of the calling that he is 
 best fitted for. The laborious professions and trades that 
 require much study and experience do not yield money at 
 the beginning ; their harvests are in the future ; and the 
 temptation to abandon them and turn to the various voca- 
 tions that require little preparation and that yield a fair 
 income at the outset is hard to resist. But it ought to be 
 remembered that he is ndt most successful in the end who 
 commences to be successful first. 
 
 The smart boy who begins to make money while yet in 
 his teens and is pointed out as an example to others, very 
 frequently fails to exhibit a proportionate capacity as a 
 man, as precocious talent soon exhausts itself and the 
 smart boy does not become a smart man. 
 
 The cases in which men have met with very decided 
 success in any occupation or profession have almost always 
 been those for which they have shown a great predilection ; 
 and they have engaged in it frequently under the most 
 discouraging circumstances, and pursued it persistently 
 when ordinary men would have abandoned it in despair. 
 They found their reward in their labor, and if they were 
 progressing towards their goal, it mattered little to them 
 whether they were accumulating a golden store or not. 
 They worked for the future, taking good care to make a 
 diligent use of the present, well satisfied that the future 
 would bring its reward. 
 
 Such men hardly need to be pointed to their goal ; it is 
 in them — in their inmost hearts — and what they most 
 need are words of encouragement and cheer, coupled with 
 suggestive advice, lest they faint by the wayside in the 
 
OCCUPATION. 701 
 
 dark days which so often occupy the prominent places in 
 their early calendar. They are often sorely in need of 
 money, and they are strongly tempted to abandon their 
 hard pursuit of a remote success, and turn into the by- 
 ways, where easy incomes are to be acquired with little 
 effort. But if they hold on they will in the end achieve 
 both fortune and reputation enough to compensate for all 
 their self-denial. 
 
 There are many men found lamenting in later life that 
 they did not select that vocation which their youthful 
 instincts and preferences indicated them to be best fitted 
 for ; they turned away from those callings to serve a tem- 
 porary purpose and never returned to them. Such 
 reproaches may be spared by beginning right and pur- 
 suing the well-chosen course to the end. Life is too short 
 to be frittered away in varied pursuits. There is a place 
 in the world for every man, and it should be his object to> 
 fill that place completely and leave other places to other 
 persons. 
 
 When a man does what he likes, and gets paid for 
 it, he has found his vocation. People may tell you 
 of your being unfit for some peculiar occupation of life ; 
 but heed them not. Whatever employment you follow 
 with assiduity and perseverance, will be found fit for 
 you ; it will be your support in youth, and comfort in 
 old age. "Every productive occupation," says Froude, 
 "which adds anything to the capital of mankind, if 
 followed assiduously with a desire to understand every- 
 thing connected with it, is an ascending stair, whose sum- 
 mit is no where. 
 
 Every young man, after he has chosen his vocation, 
 should stick to it. Don't leave it because hard blows are 
 to be struck or disagreeable acts performed. Those who 
 have worked their way up to wealth and usefulness do 
 not belong to the shiftless and unstable class, but may be 
 reckoned among such as took off their coats, rolled up 
 their sleeves, conquered their prejudices against labor, and 
 manfully bore the heat and burden of the day. 
 
 If you expect success in any undertaking, enter into it 
 with an earnest determination to do your best. When 
 
702 INDUSTRY. 
 
 your trade or profession is chosen, obstacles, large or small, 
 must not be allowed to stand in your way. 
 
 It is the man who determines the dignity of the occupa- 
 tion, not the occupation which measures the dignity of 
 the man. Better be the Napoleon of boot-blacks, than a 
 "jack of all trades and master of none." 
 
 INDUSTRY. 
 
 Habits of industry are essential to the prosperity and 
 well-being of the human family, as are knowledge and 
 accomplishments. Diligence, industry, and proper im- 
 provement of time, are material duties of the young; 
 and to no purpose are they endowed with the best abilities, 
 if they want activity for exerting them. 
 
 A very important principle in the business of money- 
 getting, is industry — persevering indefatigable attention 
 to business. Persevering diligence is the Philosopher's 
 stone, which turns everything to gold. Constant, regular, 
 habitual, and systematic application to business must, in 
 time, if properly directed, produce great results. It must 
 lead to wealth, with the same certainty that poverty fol- 
 lows in the train of idleness and inattention. It has been 
 truly remarked, that he who follows his amusements 
 instead of his business, will, in a short time, have no busi- 
 ness to follow ; and that the best cure for hard times is to 
 cheat the doctor by being temperate ; the lawyer by keep- 
 ing out of debt ; the demagogue, by voting for honest 
 men ; and poverty, by being industrious. 
 
 To industry, guided by reasonable intelligence and econ- 
 omy, every people can look with certainty as an unfailing 
 source of temporal prosperity. Whatever is useful or 
 beautiful in art, science, or other human attainment, has 
 come from industry. In the humblest pursuits, industry 
 may be accompanied by the noblest intelligence, so that 
 respect, place and power are open to its humblest honest 
 practicer. Let no man spurn industry as his temporal 
 shield; it is the safest and surest he can buckle to his 
 
INDUSTRY. 703 
 
 arm, and with it he may defy want and poverty which, 
 more than everything else, destroy the independence of 
 man. 
 
 Honorable industry always travels the same road with 
 enjoyment and duty ; and progress is altogether impossi- 
 ble without it. The idle pass through life leaving as lit- 
 tle trace of their existence as foam upon the water, or 
 smoke upon the air ; whereas the industrious stamp their 
 character upon their age, and influence not only their own 
 but all succeeding generations. Labor is the best test of 
 the energies of men, and furnishes an admirable training 
 for practical wisdom. 
 
 Practical industry, wisely and vigorously applied, never 
 fails of success. It carries a man onward and upward, 
 brings out his individual character, and powerfully stim- 
 ulates the action of others. All may not rise equally, 
 yet each, on the whole, very much according to his deserts. 
 " Though all cannot live on the piazza," as the Tuscan 
 proverb has it, " every one may feel the sun." 
 
 Industry is not only the instrument of improvement, 
 but the foundation of pleasure. Nothing is so opposite to 
 the true enjoyment of life, as the relaxed and feeble state 
 of an indolent mind. He who is a stranger to industry, 
 may possess, but he cannot enjoy. For it is labor only 
 which gives relish to pleasure. It is the appointed vehicle 
 of every good to man. It is even the indispensable con- 
 dition of our possessing a sound mind in a sound body. 
 
 Excellence is never granted to man, but as the reward 
 of labor. It argues indeed no small strength of mind to 
 persevere in habits of industry without the pleasure of 
 perceiving those advantages, which like the hand of a 
 clock, whilst they make hourly approaches to their point, 
 yet proceed so slowly as to escape observation. 
 
 The habit of industry for its own sake is a great posses- 
 sion. It is the humble man's true independence; it is 
 what separates him utterly from the criminal and the 
 pauper. It is his true badge of dignity, declaring : " I 
 hold my place in the world because I earn it," and there 
 is no assumption whatever put forth on his behalf that is 
 in any degree so certain and so noble. 
 
704 INDUSTRY. 
 
 " If you have great talents," says Sir Joshua Reynolds, 
 " industry will improve them ; if moderate abilities, 
 industry will supply their deficiencies. Nothing is denied 
 to well-directed labor ; nothing is ever to be attained with- 
 out it." 
 
 Industry will make a purse, and frugality will give 
 strings to it. This purse will cost nothing. Draw the 
 strings as frugality directs, and you will always find a 
 useful penny at the bottom. Industry and frugality lead 
 to wealth. Industry and economy are main-springs of 
 wealth in all occupations. 
 
 Industry, well directed, will give a man a competency 
 in a few years. The greatest industry, misapplied, is use- 
 less. " He that will make a door of gold," says the pro- 
 verb, " must knock in a nail every day." 
 
 Industry and perseverence are of more value to the 
 young man than genius or inherited wealth ; and he who 
 does his best is always to be distinguished from him who 
 does nothing. 
 
 The only people who have a moment to spare are those 
 who are never idle ; and the man who does most has the 
 least time to talk about what he does. "How do you 
 accomplish so much in so short a time ? " said a friend to 
 Sir Walter Raleigh. " When I have anything to do, I go 
 and do it," was the reply. 
 
 " A lazy boy makes a lazy man, just as a crooked 
 sapling makes a crooked tree." Those who make our 
 great and useful men were trained in their boyhood to 
 be industrious. 
 
 A lazy dyspeptic was bewailing his own misfortunes, 
 and speaking with a friend on the latter's hearty appear- 
 ance. " What do you do to make you so strong and 
 healthy ? " inquired the dyspeptic. " Live on fruit alone," 
 answered the friend. " What kind of fruit ? " " The fruit 
 of industry ; and I am never troubled with indigestion." 
 
 Every young man should remember that the world will 
 always honor industry. The vulgar and useless idler, 
 whose energies of body and mind are rusting for want of 
 occupation, may look with scorn — it is praise; his con- 
 tempt is honor. 
 
INDUSTRY, 705 
 
 We should never do nothing. "It is better to wear 
 out than to rust out," says Bishop Cumberland. " There 
 will be time enough to repose in the grave," said Arnould 
 to Nicole. All exertion is in itself delightful, and active 
 amusement seldom tires us. Helvetius owns that he 
 could hardly listen to a concert for two hours, though he 
 could play on an instrument all day long. In all pursuits 
 efforts, it must not be forgotten, are as indispensable as 
 desires. 
 
 Young man, would you rise above the groveling level 
 of those around you, and be something in life? Would 
 you make your mark in the world, so that when you are 
 grown old you may look back without regret upon the 
 journey over which you have come and say, " I have not 
 lived for naught " ? You have it within your power. 
 Be persevering, industrious, and withal be virtuous. 
 Never let an unchaste word or expression pass your lips, 
 or an ignoble deed or mean action tarnish the bright 
 escutcheon of your existence, or sully the fair page of 
 your world's history. Remember that character is every- 
 thing. It is like fine gold tried in fire, or burnished 
 brass while unspotted. Without an unblemished char- 
 acter you can be nothing or do nothing in life. Guard 
 cautiously every evil thought or ungenerous emotion that 
 may seek to enter your mind, for out of the fullness of 
 the heart the mouth speaketh, and your life will always 
 be in strict accordance with your thoughts. 
 
 Be temperate in all things, doing nothing rashly or 
 without consulting your innate sense of right. In all 
 things where you have reason to doubt the strict rectitude 
 of your course, withhold the action until no further ves- 
 tige of doubt remains as to the propriety of the act. 
 Trample every vain desire beneath your feet ; and with 
 your foot on the neck of your own sensual passions, and 
 yourself freed from the thralldom of the chains that bound 
 you, stand forth an untrammelled witness of right and 
 justice, "heart within and God o'er head," a giant of 
 industry in your own strength and his. 
 
 Be persevering and industrious. Whatever your hand 
 findeth to do, do it with your might. Let not your foot- 
 45 
 
706 LABOR. 
 
 steps slumber, nor your hand grow weary in well-doing. 
 Perseverance and industry overcome all things. The 
 world's history is full of testimony to prove how much 
 depends upon these. Not an eminent author has lived, 
 not a man has risen to distinction in any art or profession, 
 no human mind has successfully scaled the cliffs of science, 
 or any philosopher, orator, or musican, theologian or 
 statesman, astonished and held spell-bound a world with 
 their great philosophical, logical or musical powers, nor 
 any general made a world to tremble in awe of his mil- 
 itary prowess, but in an example of the most indomitable 
 perseverance and assiduity. 
 
 " Lives of great men all remind us, 
 
 We may make our lives sublime, 
 And departing, leave behind us, 
 
 Foot-prints on the sands of time." 
 
 Industry is talent. When Girard trusted the customer 
 without an endorser, who carried his goods home on his 
 shoulder, the shrewd old Frenchman was acting on this 
 truth, deduced from his own experience of mankind. All 
 eminent persons, whether mechanics, merchants, lawyers, 
 or statesmen, were industrious, from Watt and Norris 
 down to Thurlow and William Pitt. Washington, Frank- 
 lin, Marshall, Madison, and every other distinguished 
 American were busy men. In short, industry is talent, 
 nine times out of ten. 
 
 LABOR. 
 
 It is to labor, and to labor only, that man owes every- 
 thing possessed of exchangeable value. Labor is the 
 talisman that has raised him from the condition of the 
 savage ; that has changed the desert and the forest into 
 cultivated fields ; that has covered the earth with cities, 
 and the ocean with ships; that has given us plenty, 
 comfort and elegance, instead of want, misery, and bar- 
 barism. 
 
LABOR. 707 
 
 We should love labor, for if we do not want it for food 
 we may for physic. The idle man is more perplexed 
 what to do than the industrious in doing what he does. 
 By doing nothing we learn to do ill, for there are none 
 that can be idle and innocent. Idleness corrupts and 
 rusts the mind, but action keeps the soul in constant 
 liealth ; and besides this it is to diligence that we owe the 
 invention and improvement of all the arts and sciences, 
 and other useful inventions. 
 
 None so little enjoy life, and are such burdens to them- 
 selves, as those that have nothing to do. The active only 
 have the true relish of life. He who knows not what it 
 is to labor, knows not what it is to enjoy. Recreation is 
 only valuable as it unbends us : the idle know nothing of 
 it. It is exertion that renders rest delightful, and sleep 
 sweet and undisturbed. That the happiness of life 
 depends on the regular prosecution of some laudable pur- 
 pose or lawful calling, which engages, helps, and enlivens 
 all our powers, let those bear witness who, after spending 
 years in active usefulness, retire to enjoy themselves — 
 they will testify that they are a burden to themselves. 
 
 Don't live in hope with your arms folded ; fortune 
 smiles on those who roll up their sleeves, and put their 
 shoulders to the wheel. You cannot dream yourself in a 
 character ; you must hammer and forge yourself one. To 
 love and to labor is the sum of living, and yet how many 
 think they live who neither love nor labor. 
 
 The noblest thing in the world is honest labor. It is 
 the very preservative principle of the universe. Wise 
 labor brings order out of chaos ; it turns deadly bogs and 
 swamps into grain-bearing fields ) it rears cities ; it adorns 
 the earth with architectural monuments, and beautifies 
 them with divinest works of art ; it whitens the seas with 
 the wings of commerce ; it brings remote lands into 
 mutual and profitable neighborhood ; it binds continents 
 together with the fast-holding bands of railroads and tel- 
 egraphs ; it extinguishes barbarism and plants civilization 
 upon its ruins; it produces mighty works of genius in 
 prose and verse, which gladden the hearts of men forever. 
 Work, therefore, with pride and gladness, for thereby you 
 
708 LABOR. 
 
 will be united by a common bond with all the best and 
 noblest who have lived, who are now living, and who 
 shall ever be born. 
 
 No man has the right to expect a good fortune, unless 
 he goes to work and deserves it. Luck ! cried a self-made 
 man, I never had any luck but by getting up at five every 
 morning and working as hard as I could. No faithful 
 workman finds his task a pastime. We must all toil or 
 steal — no matter how we name our stealing. A brother 
 of the distinguished Edmund Burke was found in a reverie 
 after listening to one of his most eloquent speeches in 
 Parliament, and being asked the cause, replied, "I have 
 been wondering how Ned has contrived to monopolize all 
 the talents of the family ; but then I remember, when we 
 were at play he was always at work." 
 
 " The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, 
 But in ourselves that we are underlings." 
 
 Many people complain of their bad luck when they 
 ought to blame their own want of wisdom and action. 
 Eichard Cobden, the distinguished English writer, thus 
 expresses himself about luck and labor: "Luck is 
 always waiting for something to turn up. Labor, with 
 keen eyes and strong will, always turns up something. 
 Luck lies in bed, and wishes the postman would bring 
 him the news of a legacy. Labor turns out at six o'clock, 
 and with busy pen or ringing hammer, lays the foundation 
 of a competence. Luck whines. Labor whistles. Luck 
 relies on chances. Labor on character. Luck slides down 
 to indigence. Labor strides forward to independence." 
 
 Remember always that labor is one of the conditions of 
 our existence. Says Horace Greeley, " The darkest day in 
 any man's earthly career is that wherein he fancies there 
 is some other way of gaining a dollar than by squarely 
 earning it." 
 
 "God never allowed any man to do nothing," says 
 Bishop Hall. " How miserable is the condition of those 
 men who spend their time as if it were given them, and 
 not lent; as if hours were waste creatures and such as 
 should never be accounted for — as if God would take this 
 
LABOR. 709 
 
 for a good bill of reckoning. Item — spent upon my 
 pleasures forty years. These men shall find that no blood 
 can privilege idleness, and that nothing is more precious 
 to God than that which they desire to cast away, time. ,, 
 
 "Nothing can be accomplished without labor," said 
 Diogenes, " and with it, nothing is too difficult. Strength 
 of mind, as well as physical force, is chiefly to be acquired 
 by exercise and habit." "The price of excellence is 
 labor," says Fuseli. " Labor is preferable to happiness, as 
 brightness to rust," says Plato. 
 
 " If I want to be a man and succeed in life," said 
 Robert Colly er, " I must do my stroke of work in this 
 working world — there can be no shilly-shally about 
 beginning. I must take hold of what is before me, no 
 matter how humble and low the place, rather than lose 
 time and purpose in waiting for something better. I 
 must see that no infernal idea of going nicely through the 
 motions of work without working ever enter my heart : 
 If I want the best I must give the best. The Master of 
 us all, who said : ' My reward is with me, to give unto 
 every man according as his work shall be,' never gave 
 any man a dollar's worth of pay for ninety cents' worth 
 of work, and he never will while the world stands, so says 
 one who has tried him in many ways for a good bargain ; 
 seven years in a factory, twenty-one years at the forge, 
 and now eleven more in the most sacred work a man can 
 ever do — the oversight of human souls." 
 
 The law of labor is equally binding on genius and 
 mediocrity. Alexander Hamilton once said to an inti- 
 mate friend : " Men give me some credit for genius. 
 All the genius I have just lies in this : when I have a 
 subject in hand I study it profoundly. Day and night it 
 is before me. I explore it in all its bearings. My mind 
 becomes pervaded with it. Then the effort which I make 
 the people are pleased to call the fruit of genius. It is 
 the fruit of labor and thought." 
 
 Mr. Webster once replied to a gentleman who pressed 
 him to speak on a subject of great importance : " The 
 subject interests me deeply, but I have no time. There, 
 sir," pointing to a huge pile of letters on the table, " is a 
 
710 LABOR. 
 
 pile of unanswered letters, to which I must reply before 
 the session, (which was then three days off.) I have no 
 time to master the subject so as to do it justice." " But, 
 Mr. Webster, a few words from you would do much to 
 awaken public attention to it." " If there be as much 
 weight in my words as you represent, it is because I do 
 not allow myself to speak on any subject until my mind 
 is imbued with it." 
 
 Demosthenes was once urged to speak on a great and 
 sudden emergency. " I am not prepared," said he, and 
 obstinatily refused. 
 
 It is no man's business whether he has genius or not ; 
 work he must, whatever he is, but quietly and steadily ;. 
 and the natural and unforced results of such work will 
 be always the thing that God meant him to do, and will 
 be his best. No agonies nor heart-rendings will enable 
 him to do any better. If he be a great man, they will be 
 great things ; if a small man, small things ; but always, 
 if thus peacefully done, good and right; always, if 
 restlessly and ambitiously done, false, hollow and despic- 
 able. 
 
 It is only b}^ labor that thought can be made healthy, 
 and only by thought that labor can be made happy. 
 Brains nor education can give success to the lawyer or the 
 merchant if he eschew labor. On the other hand, a 
 farmer is a mere drudge and a botch whose labor is not 
 lightened and enlightened by both study and thought. 
 Every farmer should be an expert in Nature's labora- 
 tory — the farm. 
 
 If we would have a powerful mind, we must think ; if 
 we would have faithful hearts, we must love; if we 
 would have strong muscles, we must labor. These 
 include all that is valuable in life. 
 
 Systematic labor accomplishes far more than that with- 
 out plan or order, and does its work with much greater 
 ease to both mental and physical powers. Nor is same- 
 ness and monotony necessarily connected therewith, as 
 many suppose. 
 
 Labor, honest labor, is right and beautiful. Activity is 
 the ruling element of life, in its highest relish. Luxuries 
 
LABOR. 711 
 
 and conquests are the result of labor — we can imagine 
 nothing good without it. The noblest man of earth is he 
 who puts his hands cheerfully and proudly to honest 
 labor. Labor is a business and ordinance of God. Sus- 
 pend labor, and where is the glory and pomp of earth — 
 the fruit fields and palaces and fashionings of matter for 
 which men strive and war ! Let the labor-scoffer look 
 around him, look at himself, and learn what are the 
 trophies of toil. From the crown of his head to the sole 
 of his foot, he is the debtor and slave of toil. Where 
 gets he his garments and equipage? Let labor answer. 
 Labor makes music in the mine, and the furrow, and at 
 the forge. It is the parent of every earthly good. Bless- 
 ings be upon the honest laborer, whoever he may be, 
 whether he labors with the heart, the head, or the hand, 
 or with all combined ! 
 
 The value of an industrial population cannot be too 
 highly estimated, as however much capital may be at 
 command, it is of no use until the true material, the 
 hard working laborer or skillful mechanic, are at hand to 
 expend it and produce in its stead a road, a canal, a steam 
 engine or a ship. Money is really worthless except in 
 the relation it bears to the laborer ; and the two are each 
 dependent on the other, so the capitalist is entitled to the 
 respect of the laborer, who in his turn has a right to the 
 same from the moneyed man. 
 
 No doubt hard work is a great police agent. If every- 
 body were worked from morning till night, and then care- 
 fully locked up, the register of crimes might be greatly 
 diminished. But what would become of human nature ? 
 What would be the room for growth in such a system of 
 things ? It is through sorrow and mirth, plenty and need, 
 a variety of passions, circumstances and temptations, that 
 men's natures are developed. 
 
 Men often are not aware of what severe and untiring 
 labor they are capable, until they have made trial of their 
 strength. 
 
712 OPPORTUNITY. 
 
 OPPORTUNITY. 
 
 The successful man or woman is generally the one who 
 is first to seize an opportunity. Some always want to 
 consider until the opportunity is gone and it is too late. 
 "■ Opportunity," it has been said, " has hair in front, and 
 behind she is bald ; if you seize her by the forelock you 
 may hold her, but if suffered to escape, not Jupiter him- 
 self can catch her again." She is one of the four things 
 which come not back : the spoken word ; the sped arrow ; 
 the past life ; and the neglected opportunity. 
 
 Opportunities are the offers of God. Heaven gives us 
 enough when it gives us opportunity. Great opportunities 
 are generally the result of the wise improvement of small 
 ones. Wise men make more opportunities than they 
 find. If you think your opportunities are not good 
 enough you had better improve them. Remember you 
 are responsible for talents, for time, and for opportunities ; 
 improve them as one that must give an account. Make 
 hay while the sun shines. Gather roses while they bloom. 
 While you are deliberating, the season now so favorable 
 may pass away never to return. No one should under- 
 value the advantage he enjoys. 
 
 The way to get information, wisdom, happiness, riches, 
 is not to wait, but to lay hold of every opportunity that 
 offers, whether great or small. If you have an opportu- 
 nity to do good, or make money, or get wisdom, don't 
 despise it because it is little. If you don't profit by small 
 opportunities, you will probably never be able to appre- 
 ciate large ones. Be on the alert ; keep your eyes open ; 
 seize opportunity by the forelock. Examples are to be 
 found almost everywhere of men and women who have 
 accomplished good and acquired fortunes simply by 
 improving every opportunity to do even the slightest good 
 action or to turn an honest penny. 
 
 Great fortunes, as well as most other things called great, 
 have generally had small beginnings ; and whoever 
 despises the day of small things is not wise, and probably 
 
OPPORTUNITY. 713 
 
 will never realize anything great. The true way is to do 
 to-day whatever you can. If you can earn a dollar, do 
 it ; if you can't earn a dollar, earn a dime. Do what you 
 can. Don't be idle. Don't waste time. Improve your 
 opportunities. It is the sure way to a successful life. 
 
 Do not wait supinely for opportunity to come to you ; 
 but go and seek her. While ten men watch for chances, 
 one man makes chances ; while ten men wait for some- 
 thing to turn up, one turns something up ; so while ten 
 fail, one succeeds and is called a man of luck, the favorite 
 of fortune. There is no luck like pluck, and fortune 
 most favors those who are most indifferent to fortune. 
 
 Accident does very little towards the production of any 
 great result in life. Though sometimes what is called a 
 "happy hit" may be made by a bold venture, the old 
 and common highway of steady industry and application 
 is the only safe way to travel. 
 
 The idea about the want of time is a mere phantom. 
 Franklin found time in the midst of all his labors to dive 
 into the hidden recess of philosophy, and explore the 
 untrodden of path of science. The great Frederick, with 
 an empire at his discretion, in the midst of war, on the 
 eve of battles which were to decide the fate of his king- 
 dom, found time to revel in the charms of philosophy and 
 intellectual pleasures. Bonaparte, with all Europe at his 
 disposal, with kings in his ante-chamber begging for 
 vacant thrones, with thousands of men whose destinies 
 were suspended by the brittle thread of his arbitrary 
 pleasure, had time to converse with books. Caesar, when 
 he had curbed the spirits of the Roman people, and was 
 thronged with visitors from the remotest kingdoms, found 
 time for intellectual conversation. Every man has time ; 
 if he is careful to improve it as well as he might, he can 
 reap a three-fold reward. Let mechanics make use of the 
 hours at their disposal, if they want to obtain a proper 
 influence in society. They can if they please, hold in 
 their hands the destinies of our Republic. 
 
 Opportunities, plenty of them, fall under our eyes, if 
 we only have eyes to see them and hands to pick them 
 up. The falling of an apple was the opportunity for 
 
714 OPPORTUNITY. 
 
 Newton to solve the secret of the skies. A floating sea- 
 weed, drifting by the vessel when the crew were uttering 
 mutinous threats, was the chance seized by Columbus to 
 pacify an incipient rebellion, and to inspire his men with 
 the promise of a new continent and a new world of 
 enterprise. 
 
 The picking up of a pin in a street of Paris by a poor 
 boy, as he was going from a great bank, saddened at the 
 denial of his application for a place, was the founding of 
 the success and prosperity of one of the great bankers of 
 the queen city of the world. That simple act, illustrative 
 of the economical spirit asserting itself over present grief, 
 was observed from the window ; the lad was recalled, and 
 the refusal recalled at the same moment — industry, pa- 
 tience and honesty did the rest. 
 
 A chance remark from a peasant girl, in an obscure 
 country district in England, falling upon the ear of the 
 young observing thinker, Dr. Jenner, gave vaccination to 
 the world, and it is believed, saves hundreds of thousands 
 of lives annually. 
 
 A pewter plate founded the Peel family in England. 
 Robert, in the poor country about Blackburn, seeing a 
 large family growing up about him, felt that some source 
 of income must be added to the meager products of his 
 little farm. He quietly conducted experiments in calico 
 printing in his own home. One day thoughtfully hand- 
 ling a pewter plate from which one of the children had 
 just dined, he sketched upon its smooth surface the out- 
 line of a parsley leaf, and filling this with coloring mat- 
 ter, he was delighted to find that the impression could be 
 accurately conveyed to the surface of cotton cloth. Here 
 was the first suggestion toward calico printing from metal 
 rollers. The "parsley leaf" on the pewter plate opened 
 up a world of industry to Lancashire ; and Eobert Peel to 
 this day, is called in the neighborhood of Blackburn, 
 " Parsley Peel." 
 
 Richard Arkwright, the thirteenth child in a hovel, 
 with no knowledge of letters — an underground barber, 
 with a vixen for a wife, who mashed up his models and 
 threw them away — gave his successful spinning model to> 
 
OPPORTUNITY. 715 
 
 the world, and put a sceptre in England's right hand such 
 as Victoria never wielded. 
 
 A jumping tea-kettle lid is said to have put the steam 
 into that boy's head who gave us the great giant of 
 modern industry. 
 
 A kite and key, in Franklin's hands, were the grand- 
 parents of our telegraphs, and all the blessings of mod- 
 ern inventions applying electricity. 
 
 A swinging greasy lamp, just filled with oil by a verger 
 in the Cathedral of Pisa, caught the eye of Galileo at 
 eighteen years of age, taught him the secret of the pen- 
 dulum, made many a discovery in astronomy and nav- 
 igation possible, and gave us the whole modern system of 
 the accurate measurement of time. 
 
 Do not say that you have no opportunity. You have 
 as good, if not better than the world's greatest and best 
 men have enjoyed. Men uniformly overrate riches and 
 underrate their mere strength ; the former will do far less 
 than they suppose, and the latter far more. 
 
 It is not accident that helps a man in the world, but 
 purpose and persistent industry. These make a man 
 sharp to see opportunities, and turn them to account. To 
 the feeble, the sluggish, and purposeless, the happiest 
 opportunities avail nothing, — they pass them by seeing 
 no meaning in them. 
 
 " How often," says Crabbe, " do we sigh for opportu- 
 nities of doing good, whilst we neglect the openings 
 of Providence in little things, which would frequently 
 lead to the accomplishment of most important use- 
 fulness !" Dr. Johnson used to say, " He who waits to 
 do a great deal of good at once, will never do any." 
 Good is done by degrees. However small in propor- 
 tion the benefit which follows individual attempts to 
 do good, a great deal may thus be accomplished by per- 
 severance, even in the midst of discouragements and dis- 
 appointments. 
 
 But few have both the will and the means for deeds of 
 high benevolence, hence none should forget that the cup of 
 cold water was commended and written in heaven, while 
 the rich man's alms, heralded abroad by the sounding 
 
716 SPAKE MOMENTS. 
 
 trumpet, had its empty and short-lived tones for their 
 only blazon. 
 
 Our Lord's life was a life of opportunities, because he 
 was ready to take up the thread of life where he found it. 
 It rebukes the life of many a disciple of his, whose door 
 is never darkened, with a soul craving from him a knowl- 
 edge of the bread of life. It rebukes many another, who 
 so hedges himself within himself, by a passion for sin- 
 gularity, or by a cool indifference to the world's needs, that 
 while the world may stand in awe of him, or even hate 
 him, it wishes most of all to hurry him out of sight. 
 
 Opportunity is the flower of time, and as the stalk may 
 remain when the flower is cut off, so time may be with us 
 when opportunity is gone forever. 
 
 SPARE MOMENTS. 
 
 Few people have any idea of the number of "spare 
 moments" which they have from day to day, or of the 
 amount of knowledge attainable, in the course of a life- 
 time, by their employment. Scarcely a young man can 
 be found, in our land at least, who could not devote a 
 twenty-fourth part of his time to intellectual improve- 
 ment ; and, whether composed of consecutive moments or 
 not, this period, brief as it may appear, given to historical, 
 scientific and other solid reading, will enlarge the stores 
 of one's knowledge at no mean pace, and fit him in the 
 end, for wide influence and great usefulness. By the 
 careful husbanding of these fragmentary periods of time, 
 many individuals have raised themselves from obscurity 
 to commanding and honorable heights. 
 
 Roger Sherman was a shoemaker until past the age of 
 twenty-one. While at work on his bench, he frequently 
 kept a book open before him, and in this manner, read 
 many useful volumes on different subjects, and also par- 
 tially fitted himself for the legal profession. He became 
 a prominent member of the bar ; rose to the bench ; was 
 & signer of the Declaration of Independence, and one of 
 
SPARE MOMENTS. 717 
 
 the five gentlemen appointed to draft that famous doc- 
 ument. His wisdom in council would have been lost to 
 his country at one of the most trying periods in her his- 
 tory, but for the profitable use to which he consecrated 
 his spare moments in his younger years. 
 
 The celebrated Dr. Rush, also a signer of the Declara- 
 tion, was so economical of time that, after he had obtained 
 his profession, he was accustomed to record on the road 
 the fruit of observations made while visiting his patients.. 
 His disquisitions owe their voluminousness and much of 
 their worth to the devotion of moments that few would 
 denominate " spare," to laborious thought and the exer- 
 cise of the pen or pencil. 
 
 M. Cuvier, the father of comparative anatomy, was 
 equally as industrious as Dr. Rush. He had such appur- 
 tenances attached to his carriage as to render it conven- 
 ient for writing ; and little segments of each day's circle, 
 wasted by others, similarly situated, in reckless flights of 
 thought, he devoted to the unfolding and perfecting of a 
 science by which he rendered incalculable benefits to his 
 race, and his name immortal. 
 
 " If we are prompt to seize and improve even the 
 shortest intervals of possible action and eflbrt," says 
 Samuel Smiles, "it is astonishing how much can be 
 accomplished. Watt taught himself chemistry and me- 
 chanics while working at his trade of a mathematical 
 instrument maker; and he availed himself of every 
 opportunity to extend his knowledge of language, litera- 
 ture, and the principles of science. Stephenson taught 
 himself arithmetic and mensuration while working as an 
 engineman during the night shifts, and he studied me- 
 chanics during his spare hours at home, thus preparing 
 himself for the great work of his life — the invention of 
 the passenger locomotive. 
 
 " With perseverance, the very odds and ends of time 
 may be worked up into results of the greatest value. An 
 hour in every day withdrawn from frivolous pursuits,, 
 would, if profitably employed, enable any man of ordinary 
 capacity, very shortly to master a complete science. It 
 would make an ignorant man a well-informed man in ten 
 
718 SPARE MOMENTS. 
 
 years. We must not allow the time to pass without 
 yielding fruits, in the form of something learned worthy of 
 being known, some good principle cultivated, or some good 
 habit strengthened. Dr. Mason Good translated Lucre- 
 tius while riding in his carriage in the streets of London, 
 going his rounds among his patients. Dr. Darwin com- 
 posed nearly all his works in the same way, while riding 
 about in his ' sulky,' from house to house in the country, — 
 writing down his thoughts on little scraps of paper, which 
 he carried about with him for the purpose. Hale wrote his 
 u contemplations " while traveling on a circuit. Dr. Burney 
 learned French and Italian while traveling on horseback 
 from one musical pupil to another in the course of his pro- 
 fession. Kirk White learned Greek while walking to and 
 from a lawyer's office ; and we personally know a man of 
 eminent position, who learned Latin and French while go- 
 ing messages as an errand-boy in the streets of Manchester. 
 "Elihu Burritt attributed his first success in self- 
 improvement, not to genius, which he disclaimed, but 
 simply to the careful employment of those invaluable 
 fragments of time, called 'odd moments.' While work- 
 ing and earning his living as a blacksmith, he mastered 
 some eighteen ancient and modern languages, and twenty- 
 two European dialects. Withal, he was exceedingly 
 modest, and thought his achievements nothing extraor- 
 dinary. Like another learned and wise man, of whom it 
 was said that he could be silent in ten languages, Elihu 
 Burritt could do the same in forty. Those who have been 
 acquainted with my character from my youth up, said he, 
 writing to a friend, will give me credit for sincerity when 
 I say, that it never entered into my head to blazon forth 
 any acquisiton of my own. * * * All that I have 
 accomplished, or expect, or hope to accomplish, has been 
 and will be by that plodding, patient, persevering process 
 of accretion which builds the ant-heap, — particle by par- 
 ticle, thought by thought, fact by fact. And if ever I was 
 actuated by ambition, its highest and warmest aspiration 
 reached no further than the hope to set before the young 
 men of my country an example in employing those inval- 
 uable fragments of time called ' odd moments.' 
 
SPARE MOMENTS. 719 
 
 "Daguesseau, one of the great chancellors of France, 
 "by carefully working up his odd bits of time, wrote a 
 bulky and able volume in the successive intervals of wait- 
 ing for dinner ; and Madame de Genlis composed several 
 of her charming volumes while waiting for the princess 
 to whom she gave her daily lessons. Jeremy Bentham in 
 like manner disposed of his hours of labor and repose, so 
 that not a moment should be lost, the arrangement being 
 determined on the principle that it is a calamity to lose 
 the smallest portion of time. He lived and worked 
 habitually under the practical consciousness that man's 
 days are numbered, and that the night cometh when no 
 man can work. 
 
 " What a solemn and striking admonition to youth is 
 that inscribed on the dial at All Souls, Oxford, England — 
 6 Periunt et imputantur ' — the hours perish and are laid 
 to our charge. For time, like life, can never be recalled. 
 Melanchton noted down the time lost by him, that he 
 might thereby reanimate his industry, and not lose an 
 hour. An Italian scholar put over his door an inscrip- 
 tion intimating that whosoever remained there should join 
 in his labors. ' We are afraid,' said some visitors to 
 Baxter, 6 that we break in upon your time.' 6 To be sure 
 you do,' replied the disturbed and blunt divine. Time 
 was the estate out of which these great workers, and all 
 other workers, carved a rich inheritance of thoughts and 
 deeds for their successors. 
 
 " Sir Walter Scott found opportunities for self-improve- 
 ment in every pursuit, and turned even accidents to 
 account. Thus it was in the discharge of his functions 
 as a writer's apprentice that he first penetrated into the 
 Highlands, and formed those friendships among the 
 surviving heroes of 1745 which served to lay the founda- 
 tion for a large class of his works. Later in life, when em- 
 ployed as quartermaster of the Edinburgh Light Cavalry, 
 he was accidently disabled by the kick of a horse, and 
 confined for some time to his house ; but Scott was a sworn 
 «nemy to idleness, and he forthwith set his mind to work, 
 and in three days composed the first canto of i The Lay of 
 the Last Minstrel'- — his first great original work." 
 
720 SPARE MOMENTS. 
 
 What have not evening hours done for mechanics I 
 One of the best editors the Westminster Eeview could 
 ever boast, and one of the most brilliant writers of his day, 
 was a cooper. One of the editors of the London Daily 
 Journal was a baker; perhaps the best reporter of the 
 London Times was a weaver ; the editor of the Witness 
 was a stone mason. One of the oldest ministers in Lon- 
 don was a blacksmith, and another was a watch-maker. 
 Dr. Milne, of China, was a herdsboy ; and the principal of 
 the London Missionary Society's College at Hong Kong 
 was a common soldier. 
 
 We find here a clew to the immense amount of labor 
 accomplished by some. Such improve their odd minutes. 
 Change of labor is rest, and the waiting minutes may 
 usually be filled up with some light occupation of the 
 brain or fingers, which will save much of the annoyance 
 experienced from waiting, and accumulate in time a store 
 house of gain. 
 
 " Take care of the shillings, and the pounds will take 
 care of themselves." Take care of the hours and the 
 years will take care of themselves. One of the hours, 
 each day wasted on trifles or indolence, saved and daily 
 devoted to improvement, is enough to make an ignorant 
 man wise in ten years — to provide the luxury of intel- 
 ligence to a mind torpid from lack of thought — to brighten 
 up and strengthen faculties perishing with rust — to make 
 life a fruitful field, and death a harvest of glorious deeds. 
 
 " Who uses minutes, has hours to use; 
 Who loses minutes, whole years must lose." 
 
ECONOMY. 721 
 
 ECONOMY. 
 
 Economy is the parent of integrity, of liberty, and of 
 ease ; and the beauteous sister of temperance, of cheerful- 
 ness, and of health; while profuseness is a cruel and 
 deceptive demon, that gradually involves her followers in 
 dependence and debt ; that is, fetters them with " irons 
 that enter their souls." 
 
 Economy is one of three sisters, of whom the other and 
 less reputable two are avarice and prodigality. She alone 
 keeps the safe and straight path, while avarice sneers at 
 her as profuse, and prodigality scorns at her as penurious. 
 To the poor she is indispensable ; to those of moderate 
 means she is found the representative of wisdom ; and 
 although some moralist has said that at the hearth of 
 the opulent, economy takes the form of a vice, she is 
 perhaps as great a virtue there as elsewhere. Her very 
 name signifies the law or rule of a house, and her presence 
 is as much required in the palace as in the cottage. The 
 prince who despises her and outruns his means is at once 
 slave and knave. The honest man who lives within his 
 income, and owes no man anything, is your only true 
 king. It is he alone who makes the golden discovery that 
 economy is the mother of liberality. 
 
 Industry and economy will get rich while sagacity 
 and intrigue are laying their plans, for economy itself 
 is a great income. Live not beyond your means, 
 but live within them, if you would have means within 
 which to live; if you have not means, live without 
 them. Economy, joined to industry and sobriety, is a 
 better outfit for business than a dowry. It is the most 
 important element of success — economy of money and 
 time. 
 
 People who are content to live plainly can live econom- 
 ically. Better that a house be too small for a night than 
 too large for a year. A writer says : " It is still doubt- 
 ful in my mind, whether it is not better to devote half of 
 
 one's energies in learning to live on a very small income, 
 
 46 
 
722 ECONOMY. 
 
 than to devote all of one's energies in struggling and 
 waiting miserably for a very large income." 
 
 Sound economy is a sound understanding brought into 
 action ; it is calculation realized ; it is the doctrine of pro- 
 portion reduced to practice ; it is foreseeing contingencies, 
 and providing against them ; it is expecting contingencies, 
 and being prepared for them. 
 
 Every man ought so to contrive as to live within his 
 means. This practice is of the very essence of honesty. 
 For if a man do not manage honestly to live within his 
 own means, he must necessarily be living dishonestly upon 
 the means of somebody else. Those who are careless 
 about personal expenditure, and consider merely their 
 own gratification, without regard for the comfort of others, 
 generally find out the real uses of money when it is too 
 late. Though by nature generous, these thriftless persons 
 are often driven in the end to do very shabby things. 
 They dawdle with their money as with their time ; draw 
 bills upon the future ; anticipate their earnings ; and are 
 thus under the necessity of dragging after them a load of 
 debts and obligations which seriously affect their action as 
 free and independent men. 
 
 The loose cash which many persons throw away use- 
 lessly, and worse, would often form a basis of fortune and 
 independence for life. These wasters are their own worst 
 enemies, though generally found among the ranks of those 
 who rail at the injustice of " the world." But if a man 
 will not be his own friend, how can he expect that others 
 will ? Orderly men of moderate means have always some- 
 thing left in their pockets to help others ; whereas your 
 prodigal and careless fellows who spend all never find an 
 opportunity for helping anybody. It is poor economy, 
 however to be a scrub. Narrow-mindedness in living and 
 in dealing is generally short-sighted, and leads to failure. 
 The penny soul, it is said, never came to two-pence. 
 Generosity and liberality, like honesty, prove the best 
 policy after all. Though Jenkinson, in the "Vicar of 
 Wakefield," cheated his kind-hearted neighbor Flam- 
 borough in one way or another every year, "Flam- 
 borough," he says, " has been regularly growing in riches, 
 
ECONOMY. 723 
 
 while I have come to poverty and a jail." And practical 
 life abounds in cases of brillant results from a course of 
 generous and honest policy. 
 
 We don't like stinginess, we don't like economy, when 
 it comes down to rags and starvation. We have no sym- 
 pathy with the notion that the poor man should hitch 
 himself to a post and stand still, while the rest of the 
 world moves forward. It is no man's duty to deny him- 
 self every amusement, every recreation, every comfort, 
 that he may get rich. It is no man's duty to make an 
 iceberg of himself, to shut his eyes and ears to the suffer- 
 ings of his fellows, and to deny himself the enjoyment 
 that results from generous actions, merely that he may 
 hoard wealth for his heirs to quarrel about. But there 
 is an economy which is every man's duty, and which 
 is especially commendable in the man who struggles 
 with poverty — an economy which is consistent with 
 happiness, and which must be practiced if the poor man 
 would secure independence. It is almost every man's 
 privilege, and it becomes his duty, to live within his 
 means; not to, but within them. Wealth does not 
 make the man, we admit, and should never be taken 
 into the account in our judgment of men; but compe- 
 tence should always be secured, when it can be, by the 
 practice of economy and self-denial only to a tolerable 
 extent. It should be secured, not so much for others 
 to look upon, or to raise us in the estimation of others, 
 as to secure the consciousness of independence, and the 
 constant satisfaction which is derived from its acquire- 
 ment and possession. 
 
 We would like to impress this single fact upon the mind 
 of every laboring man, and every young man — that it is 
 possible for him to rise above poverty, and that the path 
 to independence though beset with toils and self-sacrifice, 
 is much pleasanter to the traveler than any other he can 
 enter upon. 
 
 The man who feels that he is earning something more 
 than he is spending, will walk the streets with a much 
 lighter heart, and enter his home with a much more cheer- 
 ful countenance than he who spends as he goes, or falls 
 
724 ECONOMY. 
 
 gradually behind his necessities in acquiring the means of 
 meeting them. 
 
 Next to the slavery of intemperance there is no slavery 
 on earth more galling than that of poverty and indebted- 
 ness. The man who is everybody's debtor is everybody's 
 slave, and in a much worse condition than he who serves 
 a single master. 
 
 For the sake of the present then, as well as for the 
 sake of the future, we would most earnestly urge upon 
 every workingman to live within his means. Let him 
 lay by something every day— if but a penny, be it a 
 penny — it is better than nothing; infinitely better than 
 running in debt, a penny a day or a penny a week. If 
 he can earn a dollar let him try, fairly and faithfully, the 
 experiment of living on ninety cents. He will like it. 
 " People will laugh." Let them laugh. " They will call 
 me stingy." Better be called stingy than say you do not 
 pay your debts. " They will wonder why I do not have 
 better furniture, live in a finer house, and attend concerts 
 and the playhouse." Let them wonder, for awhile, it 
 won't hurt them, and it certainly won't you. By and by 
 you can have a fine house, and fine furniture of your own, 
 and they will wonder again, and come billing and cooing 
 around you, like so many pleased fools. Try the experi- 
 ment. Live within your means. 
 
 A man is rich in proportion to the number of things he 
 can afford to let alone. What the world calls avarice is 
 oftentimes no more than compulsory economy : and even 
 a willful penuriousness is better than a wasteful extrav- 
 agance. A just man, being reproached with parsimony, 
 said that he would rather enrich his enemies after his 
 death than borrow of his friends in his lifetime. A man 
 is not so likely to deserve or win the blessing of his chil- 
 dren by giving them much, as by teaching them how to 
 live on little. Economy in our affairs has the same effect 
 upon our fortunes that good breeding has on our con- 
 versation. He that hath no money needeth no purse. 
 Be rather bountiful, than expensive. If your means suit 
 not your ends, pursue those ends which suit your means. 
 Feel a noble pride in living within your means, then you 
 
ECONOMY. 725 
 
 will not be hustled off to a cheerless hospital in your last 
 sickness. 
 
 We are ruined, not by what we really want, but by 
 what we think we do : therefore never go abroad in search 
 of your wants ; if they be real wants, they will come 
 home in search of you : for he that buys what he does not 
 want, will soon want what he can not buy. 
 
 Simple industry and thrift will go far toward making 
 any person of ordinary working faculty comparatively 
 independent in his means. Almost every working man 
 may be so. provided he will carefully husband his 
 resources and watch the little outlets of useless expen- 
 diture. A penny is a very small matter, yet the comfort 
 of thousands of families depends upon the proper saving 
 and spending of pennies. If a man allows the little 
 pennies, the result of his hard work, to slip out of his 
 ringers — some to the beer-shop, some this way and some 
 that — he will find that his life is little raised above one of 
 mere animal drudgery. On the other hand, if he take care 
 of the pennies. — putting some weekly into a benefit society 
 or an insurance fund, others into a savings-bank, and con- 
 fiding the rest to his wife to be carefully laid out, with a 
 view to the comfortable maintenance and education of his 
 family. — he will soon find that his attention to small 
 matters will abundantly repay him. in increasing means, 
 growing comfort at home, and a mind comparatively free 
 from fears as to the future. If a working man have high 
 ambition and possess richness in spirit. — a kind of wealth 
 which far transcends all mere worldly possessions, — he 
 may not only help himself, but be a profitable helper of 
 others in his path through life. 
 
 When one is blessed with good sense, and fair opportu- 
 nities, this spirit of economy is one of the most beneficial 
 of all secular gifts, and takes high rank among the minor 
 virtues. It is by this mysterious power that the loaf is 
 multiplied, that using does not waste, that little becomes 
 much, that scattered fragments grow to unity, and that 
 out of nothing, or next to nothing, comes the miracle of 
 something! Economy is not merely saving, still less, 
 parsimony. It is foresight and arrangement. It is 
 
726 ECONOMY. 
 
 insight and combination. It is a subtile philosophy of 
 things by which new uses, new compositions are discov- 
 ered. It causes inert things to labor, useless things to 
 serve our necessities, perishing things to renew their vigor, 
 and all things to exert themselves for human comfort. 
 Economy is generalship in little things. We know men 
 who live better on a thousand dollars a year than others 
 upon five thousand. We know very poor persons who 
 bear about with them in everything a sense of fitness 
 and nice arrangement, which make their life artistic. 
 There are day-laborers who go home to more real comfort 
 of neatness, arrangement, and prosperity, in the single 
 snug room, than is found in the lordly dwellings of many 
 millionaires. And blessings be on their good angels of 
 economy, which wastes nothing, and yet is not sordid in 
 saving ; that lavishes nothing, and is not parsimonious in 
 giving; that spreads out a little with the blessings of 
 taste upon it, which, if it does not multiply the provision, 
 more than makes it up in the pleasure given. Let no 
 man despise economy. 
 
 What an economist is Nature, so made by God ! She 
 economizes even the light that she so immensely pos- 
 sesses ; catches it on the moon as a candle, after the sun 
 has gone down, as we say, when he is but rising on other 
 lands, and sends it inconceivably far to us from the stars. 
 She economizes heat, equalizing it for the life and health 
 of the whole world, by currents in the air and ocean of 
 the electric fluid. She economizes water, to answer a 
 thousand successive, important purposes, in a thousand 
 different places, with the same drop. How nicely and 
 carefully she sifts out its minutest portions from the briny 
 sea, to cleanse the air and revive the plants at their sea- 
 son, to fill the springs, and paint the sky, and support all 
 human life ! How, with her elemental agencies, she 
 crumbles and bears down the barren rock from the 
 mountains and the hills, to fertilize for boundless crops the 
 valley and the grain ! How she makes the ashes even of 
 the dead spring into grass, and blossom into flowers! 
 How, applying the same economy to crude mineral, from 
 the very gravel in the ground she distils a curious, del- 
 
ECONOMY. 727 
 
 icate wash to protect the tender stalks of the growing 
 grain : though you may not think what perhaps cuts your 
 hand to bleeding in this varnish of flint. 
 
 How she saves every hair, particle, nail paring, and 
 exhalation to turn it to some account. How she converts 
 ice, and the snow that manures the poor man's ground, 
 into harvests of corn and wheat ! How she nourishes her 
 vegetable offspring, so that her animal may not hunger ! 
 The roots of a shrub, thirsty for a supply that had been 
 drawn aside by an artificial channel, have been known, 
 in their resolution not to be defrauded, to find their way 
 to the aqueduct under ground, and bore a hole through its 
 soft wooden plug, that every fibre might drink its fill, as 
 was divinely intended. To one who looks with a careless 
 view on nature, it seems as if everything with her was in 
 extravagant excess. We quote the line about "many a 
 flower born to blush unseen," and we talk of the floods 
 that are poured away to no purpose. But a closer inspec- 
 tion corrects this error, and shows how frugal her utility, 
 and perfect her order, enough, but " no room to insert a 
 particle," however art may re-arrange her forms to edu- 
 cate and give scope to human powers. 
 
 Nature is the great Economist in the Universe. She 
 never wastes anything. Man wastes; he is the most 
 wasteful being that exists. The trouble with him is that 
 he mistakes economy for meanness. But it is not econ- 
 omy which is meanness ; it is extravagance. Nature 
 with all her economy, is never mean, but, on the con- 
 trary, is always generous, always bountiful. Her econ- 
 omy enables her to be so. And men who are really gen- 
 erous and bountiful, are rarely, if ever, wasteful. There 
 is a kind of sham generosity which consists in being lib- 
 eral, not with what belongs to yourself, but with what 
 belongs to other people. It is this kind of generosity 
 which gave rise to the French saying : genereux comme un 
 guex which may be translated " generous as a good-for- 
 nothing." 
 
 The old English maxim, " be just before you are gen- 
 erous," is a good one ; but the fact is that you can't be 
 generous unless you are just. Nature, with all her vast 
 
728 ECONOMY. 
 
 generosity, is the embodiment of justice. The saying, 
 " let there be justice though the heavens fall," sounds ex- 
 travagant ; but if Nature were not just, the heavens would 
 fall. And if you look at it closely, you will find that 
 it is being unjust that generally causes the fall of man. 
 
 Justice, which is economy of Nature, applies to every 
 relation of life, and means nothing less than undeviating 
 equity and rectitude in all things. We like this broad 
 view of economy, because the word is so often conformed 
 with meanness ; and also because it is used almost exclu- 
 sively in connection with money affairs, when it really 
 applies with equal force to all other affairs. The truly 
 economical man is economical in all things, and is thus in 
 a position to be generous in all things — generous without 
 being unjust — just without being ungenerous. 
 
 Meanness, on the other hand, may be economical of 
 money, in the lowest sense of the word economy, but 
 wastes time in low grovelling tricks ; wastes moral nature 
 by ignoring the highest attributes of manhood, and finally 
 wastes existence by devoting it to soulless and ignoble 
 ends. Such a man is as far from being an economist as 
 the greatest spendthrift in existence. The axiom that 
 " economy is wealth," in its breadth of meaning, signifies 
 not only material wealth, but moral and mental wealth. 
 Then, instead of seeking to be economical in money alone, 
 we should seek to be economical in all the gifts which 
 Providence has endowed us with, or placed within our 
 reach. 
 
 When Christ had miraculously fed thousands with five 
 loaves, he said to his disciples, " Gather up the fragments 
 that remain, so that nothing be lost." How strange this 
 command, after such a display of power ! They were to 
 fill their baskets with broken bits of bread, though he 
 whom they followed could make enough for thousands by 
 the touch or mere volition of his creative energy. The 
 lesson is manifest. Economy is a Christian duty. We 
 are not to expect miracles while we can succeed by a 
 faithful use of means ; we are to save even the fragments, 
 because God has made them. 
 
LITTLE THINGS. 729 
 
 LITTLE THINGS 
 
 Trifles are not to be despised. The nerve of a tooth, 
 not so large as the finest cambric needle, will sometimes 
 drive a strong man to distraction. A musquito can make 
 an elephant absolutely mad. The coral rock, which 
 causes a navy to founder, is the work of worms. The 
 warrior that withstood death in a thousand forms may be 
 killed by an insect. For want of a nail the shoe was lost, 
 for want of a shoe the horse was lost, for want of a 
 horse the rider was lost. Every pea helps to fill the 
 peck. Little and often fills the purse. Moments are the 
 golden sands of time. Every day is a little life ; and our 
 whole life is but a day repeated; those, therefore, that 
 dare lose a day, are dangerously prodigal ; those that dare 
 misspend it, desperate. Springs are little things, but 
 they are sources of large streams — a helm is a little 
 thing, but it governs the course of a ship — a bridle bit is 
 a little thing, but see its use and power — nails and pegs 
 are little things, but they hold parts of large buildings 
 together — a word, a look, a frown, all are little things, 
 but powerful for good or evil. Think of this, and mind 
 the little things. Pay that little debt — it's promised, 
 redeem it — if it's a shilling, hand it over — you know 
 not what important event hangs upon it. Keep your 
 word sacredly — keep it to the children, they will mark 
 it sooner than anybody else, and the effect will probably 
 be as lasting as life. Mind little things. 
 
 Irving, in his life of Washington, says that this great 
 and good man bestowed attention on the minutest affairs 
 of his household as closely as upon the most important 
 concerns of the public. Another writer, in speaking of 
 this fact, says : " No man ever made a fortune, or rose to 
 greatness in any department, without being careful in 
 small things." As the beach is composed of grains of 
 sand, as the ocean is made up of drops of water, so the 
 millionaire's fortune is the aggregation of the profits of 
 single adventures, often inconsiderable in amount. Every 
 
730 LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 merchant, from Girard and Astor down, has "been noted for 
 his attention to details. Few distinguished lawyers have 
 ever practiced in the courts who have not been remark- 
 able for the same characteristic. It was one of the most 
 striking peculiarities of the first Napoleon's mind. The 
 most petty details of his household expenses, the most 
 trivial acts relating to his troops, were, in his opinion, as 
 worthy of his attention, as the tactics of a battle, the 
 plans of a campaign, or the revision of a code. Demos- 
 thenes, the world's unrivalled orator, was as anxious about 
 his gesture or intonations, as about the texture of his 
 argument or its garniture of words. Before such great 
 examples, and in the very highest walks of intellect, how 
 contemptible the conduct of the small minds who despise 
 small things. 
 
 There are no such things as trifles in the biography of 
 man. Drops make up the sea. Acorns cover the earth 
 with oaks, and the ocean with navies. Sands make up 
 the bar in the harbor's month, on which vessels are 
 wrecked ; and little things in youth accumulate into char- 
 acter in age, and destiny in eternity. All the links in 
 that glorious chain which is in all and around all, we can 
 see and admire, or at least admit ; but the staple to which 
 all is fastened, and which is the conductor of all, is the 
 Throne of Deity. 
 
 If small streams are not able to bear great ships, or 
 yield great treasures, they may, at least, water some 
 drooping flowers, if not by the fireside of home, by the 
 way-side in life's pathway. Life is made up, not of great 
 sacrifices and duties, but of little things, in which smiles, 
 and kindnesses, and small obligations, given habitually, are 
 what win and preserve the heart, and secure comfort. 
 Our attention to little things is the index of our character, 
 and often the balance by which it is weighed. In like 
 manner as daylight can be seen through small holes, so 
 little things will illustrate our character. Indeed, char- 
 acter consists in little acts, habitually and honorably per- 
 formed ; daily life being the quarry from which we build 
 it up and rough hew the habits that form it. 
 
 There is nothing too little for so little a creature as 
 
LITTLE THINGS. 731 
 
 man. It is by studying little things that we attain the 
 great art of having as little misery and as much happi- 
 ness as possible. "If a straw/' says Dryden, "can be* 
 made the instrument of happiness he is a wise man who 
 does not despise it." A very little thing makes all the 
 difference. You stand in the engine-room of a steamer;, 
 you admit the steam to the cylinders, and the paddles 
 turn ahead ; a touch of a lever, you admit the self-same 
 steam to the self-same cylinders, and the paddles turn 
 astern. It is so, oftentimes, in the moral world. The 
 turning of a straw decides whether the engines shall work 
 forward or backward. Look to the littles. The atomic 
 theory is the true one. The universe is but an infinite 
 attrition of particles. The grandest whole is resolvable 
 to fractions; or, as the ditty has it — 
 
 " Little drops of water and little grains of sand, 
 Fill the mighty ocean and form the solid land." 
 
 So with character, fortune, and all the concerns of 
 life — the littles combined, form the great bulk. If we 
 look well to the disposition of these, the sum total will be 
 cared for. It is the minutes wasted, that wound the hours 
 and mar the day. It is the pennies neglected, that squan- 
 der the dollars. The majority of men disdain littles — 
 to many, fractions are " vulgar " in more senses than the 
 rule implies. It is apt to be thought indicative of a nar- 
 row mind and petty spirit to be scrupulous about littles. 
 Yet from littles have sprung the mass of great vices and 
 crimes. In habits, in manners, in business, we have only 
 to watch the littles, and all will come out clear. The 
 smallest leak, overlooked, may sink a ship — the smallest 
 tendency to evil thinking or evil doing, left unguarded, 
 may wreck character and life. No ridicule should dis- 
 suade us from looking to the littles. The greatest and 
 best of men have not been above caring for the littles — 
 some of which have to do with every hour and every 
 purpose of our lives. 
 
 Often what seems a trifle, a mere nothing by itself, in 
 some nice situations turns the scale of fate, and rules the 
 most important actions. The cackling of a goose is fabled 
 
732 LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 to have saved Rome from the Gauls, and the pain pro- 
 duced by a thistle to have warned a Scottish army of the 
 approach of the Danes ; and according to the following 
 anecdote from Randall's Life of Jefferson, it seems that 
 flies contributed to hasten the American Independence : 
 "While the question of Independence was before Con- 
 gress, it had its meeting near a livery stable. Its mem- 
 bers wore short breeches and silk stockings, and, with 
 handkerchief in hand, they were diligently employed in 
 lashing the flies from their legs. So very vexatious was 
 this annoyance, and to so great an impatience did it 
 arouse the sufferers, that it hastened, if it did not aid in 
 inducing them to promptly affix their signatures to the 
 great document which gave birth to an emjrire republic ! 
 The anecdote," says Randall, "I had from Mr. Jefferson, 
 at Monticello, who seemed to enjoy it very much — as 
 well as to give credit to the influence of the flies. He 
 told me with much glee, and seemed to retain a vivid rec- 
 ollection of the severity of an attack from which the only 
 relief was signing the paper and flying from the flies." 
 
 A gnat choked Pope Adrian to death, which caused 
 wonderful changes in the history of the nation and the 
 whole world. A counselor of Rome was strangled by a 
 hair in the milk which he drank. This event caused the 
 most serious results of anything that ever transpired in 
 his family. Anacreon, one of the lyric poets, is said to 
 have lost his life by swallowing the skin of a raisin. The 
 world then lost one of the most illustrious poets and 
 writers. 
 
 A destructive war between France and England was 
 occasioned by a quarrel between two boy princes. The 
 " Grasshopper war," which took place about the time the 
 Pilgrims came to New England in the Mayflower, between 
 two Indian tribes, was brought about in this way : An 
 Indian woman, with her little son, went to visit a friend 
 belonging to another tribe. The little fellow caught a 
 large grasshopper on the way and carried it with him. 
 A lad from the other tribe wanted it, but he refused to 
 give it up. A quarrel ensued, which soon drew the 
 fathers and mothers into the dispute, and ere long the 
 
LITTLE THINGS. 733 
 
 chiefs were engaged In a war which nearly exterminated 
 one tribe. 
 
 Several centuries ago some soldiers of Modena carried 
 away a bucket from a public well in Bologna, which was 
 the cause of a long war; and the king of Sardina was 
 imprisoned for twenty-two years, when he died. An 
 English and a French vessel had a quarrel about which 
 should be supplied first from a certain well of water, 
 which induced a war that cost one thousand lives. 
 
 Many important discoveries have resulted from little 
 things. The great philosopher, Newton, saw a child 
 playing with soap bubbles, which led him to his most 
 important discoveries in optical instruments. Stephen 
 Montgolfier saw a shirt waving, when hung before the 
 fire, from which he first conceived the idea of a balloon. 
 When Gallileo was in the Metropolitan temple of Peria, 
 he observed the oscillations of a lamp, and this was the 
 first conception of a correct method of measuring time. 
 The introduction of the telescope is due to a little boy 
 playing with spectacle glasses ; placing two or more pairs 
 together and looking through them at distant objects, 
 older heads followed up the glimpse thus afforded. 
 
 The art of printing was suggested by a man cutting 
 the letters of his name on the bark of a tree and impress- 
 ing them on paper. Gunpowder was discovered from the 
 falling of a spark on some material mixed in a mortar. 
 The stupendous results of the steam-engine may be attrib- 
 uted to an individual observing steam issuing from a bottle 
 just emptied and placed casually close to a fire. He 
 plunged the neck of the bottle into cold water and was 
 observing enough to notice the instantaneous rush which 
 ensued from this simple condensing apparatus. 
 
 Electricity was discovered by a person observing that a 
 piece of rubbed glass, or some similar substance, attracted 
 light materials, as small bits of paper. The origin of 
 galvanism is due to Madam Galvani noticing the contrac- 
 tion of the muscles of a skinned frog, which was accident- 
 ally touched by a person at the moment of her husband 
 taking an electric spark from a machine. 
 
 Eight thousand seven hundred dollars are saved annu- 
 
734 LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 ally by the changing of a thread. From time immemo- 
 rial the Government of Great Britian has caused a red 
 worsted thread to be always woven into the cordage 
 manufacted at their roperies. The object of this thread 
 is to prevent pilfering, and to facilitate the recovery of 
 stolen properity. One fine morning it struck a poor man 
 in Chatham Yard that a jute thread would do just as 
 well as one of worsted. The experiment was tried. The 
 rope with the jute thread was tested in a variety of ways, 
 and the result was that worsted was abandoned. Such is 
 the magnitude of government transactions that, by simply 
 substituting that little thread of jute for one of worsted, 
 that country saves <£1,80Q a year forever, or at least as 
 long as ships want rope. 
 
 An eminent banker in New York was taught the 
 importance of crossing his tfs by an impressive lesson. 
 He wrote to his agent in London to invest $60,000 for 
 him in State securities, but he failed to cross the first t, 
 and his agent bought for him an interst in a slate quarry 
 in Wales. The agent was stupid, but he obeyed orders 
 literally. 
 
 Chemists tell us that a single grain of the substance 
 called iodine will impart color to seven thousand times its 
 weight of water. It is so in higher things; one com- 
 panion, one book, one habit, may affect the whole of life 
 and character. It is the little things of our life that are 
 great in their results. Those islands which so beautifully 
 adorn the Pacific, were reared up from the bed of the 
 ocean by the little coral insect, which deposits a grain of 
 sand at a time. So with human exertion. The greatest 
 results of the mind are produced by small but continued 
 exertions. 
 
 Sedulous attention and painstaking industry always 
 mark the true worker. The greatest men are not those 
 who " despise the day of small things," but those who 
 improve them the most carefully. Michael Angelo was 
 one day explaining to a visitor at his studio what he had 
 been doing at a statue since his previous visit. " I have 
 re-touched this part, polished that, — softened this feat- 
 ure, — brought out that muscle, — given some expression to 
 
LITTLE THINGS. 735 
 
 this lip, and more energy to that limb." " But these are 
 trifles," remarked the visitor. u It may be so," replied the 
 sculptor, "but recollect that trifles make perfection, and 
 perfection is no trifle." So it was said of Nicholas Poissin, 
 the painter, that the rule of his conduct was, that " what- 
 ever was worth doing at all was worth doing well ; " and 
 when asked, late in life, by what means he had gained so 
 high a reputation among the painters of Italy, he emphat- 
 ically answered, " Because I have neglected nothing." 
 
 It is the intelligent eye of the careful observer which 
 gives apparently trivial phenomena their value. So tri- 
 fling a matter as the sight of sea-weed floating past his 
 ship, enabled Columbus to quell the mutiny which arose 
 amongst his sailors at not discovering land, and to assure 
 them that the eagerly sought New World was not far off. 
 There is nothing so small that it should remain forgotten ; 
 and no fact, however trivial, but may prove useful in some 
 way or other if carefully interpreted. Who could have 
 imagined that the famous " chalk-cliffs of Albion " had 
 been built up by tiny insects, — detected only by the help 
 of the microscope, — of the same ordor of creatures that 
 have gemmed the sea with islands of coral ! And who 
 that contemplates such extraordinary results, arising from 
 infinitely minute operations, will venture to question the 
 power of little things ? 
 
 It is the close observation of little things which is the 
 secret of success in business, in art, in science, and in 
 every pursuit in life. Human knowledge is but an accu- 
 mulation of small facts, made by successive generations of 
 men, the little bits of knowledge and experience carefully 
 treasured up by them growing at length into a mighty 
 pyramid. Though many of these facts and observations 
 seemed in the first instance to have but slight significance, 
 they are all found to have their eventual uses, and to fit 
 into their proper places. Even many speculations seem- 
 ingly remote turn out to be the basis of results the most 
 obviously practical. In the case of the conic sections dis- 
 covered by Apolonius Pergoeus, twenty centuries elapsed 
 before they were made the basis of astronomy, — a science 
 which enables the modern navigator to steer his way 
 
736 LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 through unknown seas, and traces for him m the heav- 
 ens an unerring path to his appointed haven. And had 
 not mathematicians toiled for so long, and, to unin- 
 structed observers, apparently so fruitlessly, over the 
 abstract relations of lines and surfaces, it is probable 
 that but few of our mechanical inventions would have 
 seen the light. 
 
 When Franklin made his discovery of the identity of 
 lightning and electricity, it was sneered at, and people 
 asked, " Of what use is it ? " to which his apt reply was, 
 " What is the use of a child ? It may become a man ! " 
 When Galvani discovered that a frog's leg twitched when 
 placed in contact with different metals, it could scarcely 
 have been imagined that so apparently insignificant a fact 
 could have led to important results. Yet therein lay the 
 germ of the electric telegraph, which binds the intelli- 
 gence of continents together, and will "put a gridle 
 round the globe." So, too, little bits of stone and fossil, 
 dug out of the earth, intelligently interpreted, have issued 
 in the science of geology and the practical operations of 
 mining, in which large capitals are invested and vast 
 numbers of persons profitably employed. 
 
 Be contented with small gains. No man ever became 
 rich in a day. A little added every day to your stock, 
 will amount to quite a sum at the close of the year. The 
 fault with many is, they desire to become rich at once, 
 and are not satisfied to accumulate property by mills and 
 dimes. They therefore do little or nothing ; and are sure 
 to be always poor. Some men are always expecting 
 something to turn up and make them independent. A 
 distant relative may die, and leave them property ; they 
 may discover a golden mine, or the skies may drop dia- 
 monds. Such people always wait in vain, and at last die 
 poor. The best way is to gain property by degrees. If 
 you can save but a dollar a week above all your expenses, 
 it is better than nothing. If you do as much now, you 
 will do more by and by. We have known men and 
 women to grow rich by retailing goods by the cent's 
 worth. Our eye is on several at this moment, who per- 
 haps never in their lives sold to one person at a time 
 
LITTLE THINGS. 737 
 
 goods to the value of fifty cents, and yet they have grown 
 rich. This is small business, you may say, but how much 
 better have you done with all your thousand dollar trades ? 
 It is not the amount you sell after all ; but it is the profit 
 you make. A peck of apples will often yield more profit 
 than a cargo of corn. A bushel of peaches retailed may 
 be more profitable than a thousand barrels of flour. 
 Light gains make heavy purses. Despise not these small 
 profits. Expect not — desire not to be made rich in a day. 
 Accumulate by degrees, a cent at a time, and it will do 
 you more good and make you happier than an ocean of 
 dollars. Father Baldwin, the founder of Baldwin Univer- 
 sity, Berea, Ohio, being asked the secret of his success, 
 replied : " It is because I know the value of a cent." 
 Mark all our rich men, and with but few exceptions, you 
 will find they all accumulated property by little and 
 little. If you despise small gains, nine chances in ten, 
 you will always be poor. 
 
 Of seeming trifles — of atoms — the universe is made. 
 God has dealt with little things, but with nothing has he 
 trifled. We may hold an hour as a trifling possession; 
 yet in every hour thousands of human beings are born 
 and die. The great face of nature takes on some change 
 with every second of time. Not a bud bursts, but there 
 is an appointment for its odor. Not a dew-drop but has 
 its mission. Not a leaf falls, but to enrich some space of 
 earth. By almost invisible degrees, the fens and marshes 
 are lifted by vegetation into habitable soil. The mountain 
 is but an aggregate of motes; and the mightiest oak, stal- 
 wart upon the hills, and defiant of lightning and storms, 
 was once but a tiny acorn. Little things are often the 
 seeds of weightiest events — beginnings of the grandest 
 ends — steps towards the most momentous conclusions. 
 If a single vote has made a governor, so has an unintended 
 slight of an embassador kindled a furious war. It is the 
 first small yielding to temptation that peoples prisons and 
 feeds the gallows. Trifles are indications, even as straws 
 are weather vanes. They compel inferences as to habit 
 and character. The cruel child points forward to the 
 cruel, bad man. It is about trifles that we should be 
 47 
 
738 LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 careful. He who is true in little things will seldom be 
 false in great ones. 
 
 Little habits drive nails into our coffins. They more 
 than make up by their number what they seem to lack in 
 individual importance. They are the true seeds of char- 
 acter. We might as well plant acorns, and not expect 
 them to grow, as cherish small vices and not calculate on 
 their increase ; or as reasonably expect to see the firm and 
 noble oak where no acorns were ever planted, as true 
 greatness and success in life, where the seedlings of a thou- 
 sand little habits of industry and virtue had not been first 
 carefully cherished. In a word, character is the sum of 
 little things, rather than great ones. The true estimate of 
 an individual is not ascertained by his accidental or occa- 
 sional achievements, but his every day habits. A nation's 
 character is not determined by its famous men, but by 
 the habits of its masses, and the character of the age by 
 the vices or virtues that were so inherent as to be un- 
 noticed. 
 
 Attention to small things is the economy of virtue. 
 Men do not leap the hill of Virtue in a moment, nor do 
 they descend into the valley of Death or the pit of Vice 
 in an instant. You take up your newspaper, and you 
 shudder at the wife beating, the desertion, the seduction, 
 the murder — do you think these have a sudden inspira- 
 tion? They are the out-come of habits, of thought and 
 action, of long and steady preparation. You see the 
 volcanic flame ; you did not see the smouldering embers. 
 You see the broken bridge; you did not see the little 
 madrepores eating into the timber. Even in these great 
 sins it has been " here a little and there a little." 
 
 "Great virtues," says Fenelon, "are rare; the occa- 
 sions for them are very rare ; and when they do occur, we 
 are prepared for them — we are excited by the grandeur 
 of the sacrifice, we are supported either by the splendor 
 of the deed in the eyes of the world, or by the self-com- 
 placency that we experience from the performence of an 
 uncommon action. Little things are unforeseen; they 
 return every moment; they come in contact with our 
 pride, our indolence, our haughtiness, our readiness to take 
 
BEGINNING EIGHT. 739 
 
 offense ; they contradict our inclinations perpetually. We 
 would much rather make certain great sacrifices to God, 
 however violent and painful they might be, upon condi- 
 tion that we should be rewarded by liberty to follow our 
 own desires and habits in the details of life. It is, how- 
 ever, only by fidelity in little things that a true and con- 
 stant love to God can be distinguished from a passing 
 fever of spirit. " 
 
 Little local noises deaden the loudest distant ones; so 
 it is that this world shuts out from the ears of men, as it 
 does, the voice of Almighty God. 
 
 BEGINNING RIGHT. 
 
 It is a great point for young men to begin well ; for it 
 is in the beginning of life that that system of conduct is 
 adopted, which soon assumes the force of 'habit. Begin 
 well, and the habit of doing well will become quite as 
 easy as the habit of doing badly. Well begun is half 
 ended, says the proverb ; and a good beginning is half the 
 battle. Many promising young men have irretrievably 
 ruined themselves by a first false step at the commence- 
 ment of life ; while others, of much less promising talents, 
 have succeeded simply by beginning well, and going on- 
 ward. The good practical beginning is, to a certain 
 extent, a pledge, a promise, and an assurance, of the 
 ultimate prosperous issue. There is many a poor creature, 
 now crawling through life, miserable himself and the 
 cause of sorrow to others, who might have lifted up his 
 head and prospered, if, instead of merely satisfying him- 
 self with resolutions of well-doing, he had actually gone 
 to work and made a good practical beginning. 
 
 If the Spring put forth no blossoms, in Summer there 
 will be no beauty, and in Autumn no fruit — so, if youth 
 be trifled away without improvement, riper years will be 
 contemptible, and old age miserable. 
 
 If there is one thing in life more important than 
 another, it is to begin right. The best enterprises often 
 
740 BEGINNING RIGHT. 
 
 fail for want of this. Young men are sometimes in such 
 a hurry to get into business on their own account that 
 they commence with inadequate means, or an insufficient 
 connection, or in ignorance of many necessary details. 
 In nine cases out of ten, under such circumstances, they 
 fail. Or they begin with trusting too many, or on too 
 long a time, and have to struggle under difficulties for 
 years, and perhaps become insolvent at last. Or they 
 fancy, with the sanguine feelings of the young, that their 
 profits will be greater than the result verifies, and, on the 
 faith of this delusion, launch out into expenses which they 
 can but illy afford. Or they speculate, before the}' have 
 realized the money to speculate on, so that if the specula- 
 tion proves unfortunate, they not only ruin themselves, 
 but defraud honest creditors, whose funds they have, in 
 point of fact, speculated with. 
 
 Other men make a mistake in marrying. They do not 
 in this matter either begin right. Have they their fort- 
 unes still to make? Too often, instead of seeking one 
 who would be a helpmate in the true sense of the term, 
 they unite themselves to a giddy, improvident creature, 
 with nothing to recommend her but the face of a doll and 
 a few showy accomplishments. Such a wife, they dis- 
 cover too late, neither makes home happy, nor helps to 
 increase her husband's means. At first, thriftless, extrav- 
 agant and careless, she gradually becomes cross and 
 reproachful, and while she envies other women, and 
 reproaches her husband because he cannot afford to main- 
 tain her like them, is really the principal cause of his ill 
 fortune. The selection of a proper companion is one of 
 the most important concerns of life. A well-assorted 
 marriage assists, instead of retarding, a man's prosperity. 
 Begin right in this respect. Select a sensible, agreeable, 
 amiable woman, and you will have secured a prize " better 
 than riches." If you do otherwise, then, alas for you ! 
 
 Begin right in establishing a character. The only way 
 to do this is to be what you seem, for hypocrites and 
 rogues are always found out in the end. Honesty is the 
 best policy. But no man can be upright, amid the vari- 
 ous temptations of life, unless he is honest for the right's 
 
BEGINNING RIGHT. 741 
 
 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. Most of the great Amer- 
 ican merchants, whose revenues outrank those of prin- 
 ces, owe their colossal fortunes principally to a character 
 for integrity and ability. Lay the foundations of a char- 
 acter 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. Begin right. 
 But, establish a character for loose dealings, and, lo ! 
 some great tempest will sweep it away. 
 
 At thy first entrance upon thy estate, said a wise man 
 once, keep a low sail, that thou mayst rise with honor; 
 thou Qanst not decline without shame ; he that begins 
 where his father ends, will end where his father began. 
 
 Many an unwise parent labors and lives sparingly all 
 his life, for the purpose of leaving enough to give his 
 children a start in the world, as it is called. Setting a 
 young man afloat with money left him by his relatives is 
 like tying bladders under the arms of one who cannot 
 swim : ten chances to one he will lose his bladders and go 
 to the bottom. Teach him to swim, and he will never 
 need the bladders. Give your child a sound education, 
 and you have done enough for him. See to it that his 
 morals are pure, his mind cultivated, and his whole 
 nature made subservient to the laws which govern men, 
 and you have given what will be of more value than the 
 wealth of the Indies. To be thrown upon one's resources, 
 is to be cast into the very lap of fortune, for our faculties 
 then undergo a development, and display an energy, of 
 which they were previously insusceptible. 
 
 Many a young man thinks all he needs is capital. 
 There could hardly be a greater mistake. If he is com- 
 petent to manage capital, he has the ability to make it for 
 himself. It is easier made than managed. It is a say- 
 ing, " Any fool can make money, but it takes a wise man 
 to keep it." Young men sometimes exclaim, " Oh, if I 
 
742 BEGINNING RIGHT. 
 
 had the capital ! " Then they would do wonderful things, 
 they think ! Those very young men would probably 
 squander it. The man who can manage capital, instead 
 of sighing for it, goes to work and makes it. 
 
 It is a plain but faithful saying, " Eat your own brown 
 bread first." Nor is there a better rule for a young man's 
 outset in the world. While you continue single, you may 
 live within as narrow limits as you please, and it is then 
 you must begin to save in order to be provided for the 
 more enlarged expenses of your future family. Besides, 
 a plain, frugal life is then supported most cheerfully ; it is 
 your ow.n choice and it is to be justified on the best and 
 most honest principles in the world, and you have nobody's 
 pride to struggle with or appetites to master but your own. 
 As you advance in life and success, it will be expected 
 you should give yourself greater indulgence; and you 
 may then be allowed to do it both reasonably and safely. 
 
 Rev. Dr. John Hall says, " There are two ways of set- 
 ting up in life. One is to begin where your parents are 
 ending — magnificient mansion, splendid furniture and an 
 elegant turnout." Is not that the pretty dream of many 
 on their start in life ? u The other is to begin a little 
 nearer the point where father and mother began. You 
 see, my dear friend, you can go up so easily and grace- 
 fully, if events show it to be safe ; but it would be trying 
 and awkward to come down. It costs much to live ; bus- 
 iness fluctuates ; health is uncertain ; temptations from 
 the side of pride are strong ; and many a young man who 
 did not mean to be extravagant has been led along ; and 
 rather than face the position and descend manfully, has 
 tried to keep up the embezzlement, and been called a 
 s swindler.' " 
 
 A worthy Scotch couple, when asked how their son 
 had broken down so early in life, gave the following 
 explanation : " When we began life, we worked hard, 
 and lived upon porridge, and such like, gradually adding 
 to our comforts as our means improved, until we were 
 able to dine off a bit of roast meat, and sometimes a 
 boiled chuckie (chicken) ; but as for Jack, our son, he 
 worked backward, he began wi' the chuckle first*" 
 
BEGINNING RIGHT. 743 
 
 Keep a low sail at the commencement of life ; you 
 may rise with honor, but you cannot recede without 
 shame. Bacon says : " He who commences with cer- 
 tainty will end with doubts, but he who is content to 
 begin with doubts may end with certainty." 
 
 Nearly all beginnings are difficult and poor. At the 
 opening of the hunt the hound limps. 
 
 Did you ever notice an engine try to start a heavy 
 train of cars ? How it puffed and groaned and wheezed, 
 just as if the iron horse had hardly strength enough to 
 move such a ponderous load ! But when he gets fairly 
 under way he goes on merrily for miles and miles, as if 
 he loved to do it, giving now and then a defiant snort, as 
 much as to say, " Who says I can't draw a load ? " But 
 if he once fairly stops, then there is all the old trouble to 
 start again. 
 
 Did you ever take a bath in a cold morning? The 
 water looks so clear and chilly that you have a good mind 
 to let it alone just this once, and wash when the weather 
 is milder. The first touch stings like ice ; you shudder 
 and start back as if you were freezing. But you don't 
 freeze, and as soon as you begin to rub yourself with a 
 coarse towel, you are all in a glow. Your cheeks are red 
 and your eyes are bright, and you are much warmer than 
 when you stood shivering, thinking, " I can't do it." 
 
 Beginnings are often hard. The French say, " It is the 
 first step that costs." They mean that it is much harder 
 to begin than to keep on, harder to do a thing the first 
 time than the second or third. But no good job was ever 
 done without beginning. Every happy day begins with 
 getting up, every clean boy takes his bath, every excur- 
 sion train starts with a strain and a puff. Every hive of 
 honey had a first deposit of the luscious sweet ; every 
 great fortune began by saving a first dollar that somebody 
 would have been glad to spend; every noble man was 
 once a brave boy who began to do right when it would 
 have been easier and pleasanter to do wrong. Persever- 
 ance is a very fine thing, but how can we persevere in 
 any good course till we begin it ? Let us begin to-day. 
 
 If you are ever to be anything you must make a begin- 
 
744 BEGINNING RIGHT. 
 
 ning ; and you must make it yourself. The world is 
 getting too practical to help drones, and push them 
 along, when there is a busy hive of workers, who, if any- 
 thing, live too fast. You must lift up your own feet, and 
 if you have on a pair of clogs which clatter about your heels, 
 they will soon be worn off and. left behind on the dusky 
 path-way. Mark out the line which you prefer ; let truth 
 be the object glass — honesty the surveying chain — and 
 eminence the level with which you lay out your field; 
 and thus prepared, with prudence on one arm and per- 
 severance on the other, you need fear no obstacle. 
 
 Do not be afraid to take the first step. Boldness will 
 beget assurance, and the first step will bring you so much 
 nearer the second. But if your first step should break 
 down, try again. It will be surer and safer by the trial. 
 Besides, if you never move, you will never know your 
 own power. A man standing still and declaring his 
 inability to walk, without making an effort, would be a 
 general laughing stock; and so, morally, is the man, in 
 our opinion, who will not test his own moral and intellect- 
 ual power, and then gravely assure us that he has "no 
 genius," or " no talent," or " no capacity." A man with 
 seeing eyes keeping them shut and complaining that he 
 cannot see ! The trumpeter of his own imbecility ! 
 
 We once knew an old Friend, who had but one piece of 
 advice to young beginners : " If thee'll only begin right, 
 all will go well." There is, perhaps, more in the recom- 
 mendation than even the good Quaker saw. Scarcely 
 anything is to be done in life to which the adage, " begin 
 right" will not apply. Success is almost a synonym for 
 beginning right. The great bulk of enterprises that fail 
 owe their ruin to not having been begun right. 
 
 A business is undertaken without sufficient capital, con- 
 nexion, or knowledge. It ends unfavorably. Why? 
 Because it was not begun right. A young professional 
 man, whose probationary period of study has been spent 
 in pleasure rather than in hard reading, complains that he 
 cannot succeed. Why, again ? Because he has not begun 
 right either! A stock company blows up. Still why? 
 Ten to one the means employed were not adequate to the 
 
BEGINNING RIGHT. 745 
 
 end, or else it was started with inefficient officers, and in 
 either case it was not begun right. Two young house- 
 keepers break up their gay establishment, the wife going 
 home, perhaps, to her father's, taking her husband with 
 her. Why ? They did not begin right, for they com- 
 menced on too large a scale, forgetting that the expenses 
 of a family increase every year, and that, in no event, is 
 it safe for a man to live up to his income. An inventor 
 starts a manufactory, in which his improvements in 
 machinery is brought into play ; but after awhile he finds 
 himself insolvent ; his factory is sold ; another reaps 
 where he has sown. Why ? Alas ! like many others, 
 he, too, has undertaken more than he has means to carry 
 through : he did not begin right ; and his ruin is the con- 
 sequence. 
 
 But, above all things, life should be begun right. Young 
 men rarely know how much their conduct, during their 
 first few years, affects their subsequent success. It is not 
 only that older persons, in the same business, form their 
 opinions of them at this time, but that every beginner 
 acquires, during these years, habits for good or ill which 
 color his whole future career. We have seen some of the 
 ablest young men with every advantage of fortune -and 
 friends, sow the seeds of ruin and early death, by indulg- 
 ing too freely in the first years of manhood. We have 
 seen others, with far less capacity, and without any back- 
 ing but industry and energy, rise gradually to fortune and 
 influence. Franklin is a familiar illustration of what a 
 man can do who begins right. If he had been too proud 
 to eat rolls in the street when he was a poor boy, he 
 would never have been Minister Plenipotentiary to the 
 Court of France. 
 
 One of the wealthiest merchants of New York City 
 tells how he made his beginning in a business life : " I 
 entered a store and asked if a clerk was wanted ? [ No,' 
 in a very rough tone, was the answer, all being too busy 
 to bother with me. Then I reflected that if they did not 
 want a clerk they might want a laborer; but I was 
 dressed too well for that. I went to my lodgings and put 
 on a rough garb, and the next day went into the same 
 
746 BEGINNING RIGHT. 
 
 store, and demanded if they did not want a porter, and 
 again, 'No' was the response ; when I exclaimed, almost 
 in despair, c Sir, I will work at any wages. Wages is not 
 my object — I must have employment, and I want to be 
 useful in business. ' 
 
 " These last remarks attracted their attention, and in the 
 end I was hired as a laborer in the basement and sub-cellar 
 at a very low pay, scarcely enough to keep body and soul 
 together. I soon attracted the attention of the counting 
 house and chief clerk. I saved enough for my employers 
 in little wastes to pay my wages ten times over, and they 
 soon found it out. I did not let any one go about com- 
 mitting petty larcenies without remonstrance and threats 
 of exposure, and real exposure if remonstrance would not 
 do. If I was wanted at three o'clock, I never growled, 
 but told everybody to go home, and I would see every- 
 thing right., I loaded at daybreak packages for the morn- 
 ing boats, became indispensable to my employers, and I 
 rose and rose, until I became the head of the house, with 
 money enough, as you see, to give me any luxury or posi- 
 tion a mercantile man may desire for himself and his 
 children in this great city." 
 
 Amos Lawrence once said of himself : " We five boys 
 were in the habit, every forenoon, of making a drink, com- 
 pounded of rum, raisins, nutmeg, sugar, etc., with bus- 
 cuit — all palatable to eat and drink. After being in the 
 store four weeks, I found myself admonished by the 
 appetite of the hour of indulgence. Thinking the habit 
 might make trouble if allowed to grow stronger, without 
 further apology to our seniors I declined partaking with 
 them. My first resolution was to abstain one week, and 
 when the week was out, for a month, and then for a year. 
 Finally, I resolved to abstain for the rest of my appren- 
 ticeship, which was five years longer. During that period 
 I never drank a spoonful, though I mixed gallons daily 
 for my master and his customers. I decided not to be a 
 slave to tobacco in any form, though I loved the odor of 
 it. I have never in my life smoked a cigar; never 
 chewed but one quid, and that before I was fifteen ; and 
 never took an ounce of snuff. Now, I say, to this simple 
 
POOR BOYS AND GREAT EMINENCE. 747 
 
 fact of starting just right am I indebted, with God's bless- 
 ing on my labor, for my present position, as well as that 
 of numerous connections sprung up around me." 
 
 Foundations are hidden. It is not the apparent virtues 
 which give stability to character. It is not what a man 
 appears to be, but what he is in the foundations. One of 
 the handsomest churches in Chicago, a magnificent struct- 
 ure, was built throughout of stone. Apparently only 
 time could destroy it ; yet before it was quite completed 
 the workmen abandoned it, the street was blockaded, the 
 inhabitants of the opposite houses feared for their lives 
 because of it. It had to be taken down, stone by stone. 
 The foundations were imperfect. It was admirably built r 
 but on sand. Many a man, good citizen, kind father, gen- 
 erous neighbor, honest tradesman, is admirably built — -but 
 on sand. What are your foundations ? Are you build- 
 ing on Christ ? Are you rooted and grounded in Christ ? 
 
 POOR BOYS AND GEEAT EMINENCE. 
 
 Many of the great men and women of all ages have 
 sprung from the lowest origin, proving the truth of the 
 familiar lines of Pope — 
 
 " Honor and shame from no conditioD rise; 
 Act well your part: there all the honor lies." 
 
 Confucius, the great Chinese philosopher, was a carpen- 
 ter : he lived about iive hundred years before the Chris- 
 tian era ; yet so highly is he esteemed in China, that there 
 are more than fifteen hundred and sixty temples dedicated 
 to him, and sixty-two thousand animals are annually 
 sacrificed to his memory. The Emperor of Morocco was a 
 pawn-broker. Bernadotte, king of Sweden, was a surgeon 
 in the garrison of Martinique when the English took that 
 island. 
 
 Madame Bernadotte was a washerwoman of Paris. 
 The great Napoleon was a descendant of an obscure 
 family in Corsica ; was an army officer when he married 
 
748 POOR BOYS AND GREAT EMINENCE. 
 
 Josephine Beauharnais, the daughter of a Creole, of 
 Martinique. Benjanim Franklin was a printer. Presi- 
 dent Tyler was a captain of militia. Oliver Cromwell 
 was the son of a London brewer. President Polk was an 
 inn-keeper ; and Abraham Lincoln was a " rail-splitter." 
 
 The step-father of Isabella, Queen of Spain, was once 
 a bar-keeper. General Esparto was a vestry clerk. Boli- 
 ver was a druggist. General Paez was a cow-keeper. 
 Columbus was the son of a weaver, and a weaver himself. 
 John Jacob Astor used to sell apples through the streets 
 of New York. Louis Philippe was a teacher of French 
 in Switzerland, Boston and Havana. Cincinnatus was 
 ploughing his fields when the dictatorship of Rome was 
 offered to him. A Governor of the island of Madeira 
 was a tailor. So was our President Andrew Johnson. 
 And a Minister of Finance in Portugal was a dealer in 
 bottles of Madeira wine. 
 
 Shakespeare was a poor man's son ; his father could not 
 write his own name. The poet's own education appears 
 to have been very limited, and tradition describes him as 
 having lived for a time by very humble employments. 
 He labored hard all through his youth and manhood; 
 and not till he was between the age of forty and fifty 
 years was he able to build a house for himself and family. 
 Demosthenes was the son of a cutler. Homer was the 
 son of a small farmer. Cervantes was a common soldier. 
 Howard was an apprentice to a grocer. Terrence was a 
 slave. 
 
 Virgil was the son of a porter, and Horace the son 
 of a shop-keeper. Robert Burns was a plowman in 
 Ayrshire, and Milton the son of a money scrivener. 
 Whitefield was the son of an inn-keeper, and Dr. Thomas, 
 Bishop of Worcester, the son of a linen-draper. Moham- 
 med, called the prophet, was a driver of asses, and 
 Catherine, Empress of Russia, was a camp-grizette. 
 
 Many men who have attained eminence in various call- 
 ings have in youth contended with dullness as well as 
 poverty. Douglas Jerrold was considered a very dull 
 boy, and, at the age of nine years, could scarcely read. 
 Oliver Goldsmith was a most unpromising boy, and gave 
 
POOR BOYS AND GREAT EMINENCE. 749 
 
 little evidence of such talent as should eventually pro- 
 duce the " Vicar of Wakefield " and " The Deserted 
 Village." 
 
 Dryden, Swift and Gibbon waited long before the 
 world gave them credit for extraordinary abilities or supe- 
 rior genius. The mother of Sheridan, herself a literary 
 woman, pronounced him to be the dullest and most hope- 
 less of her sons. The father of Barrow is said to have 
 exclaimed, " If it please God to take away any of my 
 children, I hope it will be Isaac." This lad, regarded by 
 his father as a miracle of stupidity, lived to be the glory 
 of his family. 
 
 Toussaint L' Overture, the negro patriot of Hayti, spent 
 fifty years of his life in slavery, before he became the vindi- 
 cator of his brethren's rights. Elihu Burritt was styled 
 the " Learned Blacksmith," because, while hammering at 
 the anvil, he was filling his mind with the treasures of 
 the ages. 
 
 Some years ago, in a leather and saddle store, in 
 Galena, Illinois, a political discussion arose, in which the 
 quiet store keeper was vainly urged to participate. At 
 length the silent man spoke, and said, " Gentlemen, I don't 
 know anything of party politics, and I don't want to; 
 but there is one subject on which I feel perfectly at home, 
 and that is, tanning leather!" That man is President 
 Grant. 
 
 Daniel Defoe, the author of " Robinson Crusoe," one of 
 the greatest authors of prose fiction that ever lived, began 
 life as a hostler, and was the son of a butcher. Will- 
 iam Babbett, the great master of racy Saxon-English, 
 was in early life a farmer's boy, and afterwards a common 
 soldier. Isaac Walton was a linen draper. Thomas 
 Simpson, the mathematician, wrought for the greater 
 part of his life as a weaver. Captain Cook, the scientific 
 sailor and author, was wholly self-taught. His father, a 
 poor peasant, learned to read when turned seventy, in 
 order that he might peruse his son's voyages. Sir 
 Richard Arkwright, the inventor of the cotton spinning 
 machine, was a poor man, and commenced life as a barber. 
 James Brindley, the author of canal navigation, in Eng- 
 
750 POOR BOYS AND GREAT EMINENCE. 
 
 land, the first who tunneled great hills and brought ships 
 across navigable rivers on bridges, was a millwright. Sir 
 William Herschell, the great astronomer, was originally 
 a musician in a Hanoverian regiment. 
 
 Chan trey was a milk and butter boy, and his first 
 modelings were in softer materials than marble. Sir 
 Thomas Lawrence was the son of an inn-keeper, and 
 wholly self-taught. John Opie, the painter, was found by 
 Dr. Wallace, working in a saw-pit. William Hogarth, 
 the greatest master of character that ever developed his 
 ideas by means of the pencil, was apprentice to a silver- 
 smith, and commenced by engraving coats of arms and 
 shop bills. 
 
 Bloomfield, the English Burns, wrote his best poem 
 " The Farmer's Boy," while he worked in a garret as a 
 shoemaker. Ben Johnson worked for some time as brick- 
 layer and mason, with a trowel in his hand and a 
 book in his pocket. Dr. Isaac Miller, Dean of Carlisle, 
 and his brother Joseph, author of the "History of the 
 Church," began life as weavers. John Bunyan, the 
 greatest master of allegory, and author of the second 
 book in the world, was a self-taught tinker. 
 
 It is a great mistake to suppose that little can be 
 accomplished if a man has reached the age of thirty or 
 forty years — the idea being often expressed, "Without 
 fame or fortune at forty, without fame or fortune always." 
 Nine-tenths of our eminent men have actually exhibited 
 more vigor of intellect at fifty years of age than at forty. 
 Franklin was forty when he began, in real earnest, the 
 study of natural philosophy. The President of one of 
 our most flourishing colleges in America was a farm- 
 servant until past the age when most students have com- 
 pleted their collegiate education. Sir Henry Spelman did 
 not begin the study of science until he was between 
 fifty and sixty years of age. Greek was the first foreign 
 language which Cato, the celebrated Boman censor, 
 acquired, and, he did so in his old age. Alfieri, who, 
 writing, has caused a revolution in the dramatic litera- 
 ture of Italy, was left without a father in his infancy, and 
 wasted his early years. John Ogilby, the author of 
 
POOR BOYS AND GREAT EMINENCE. 751 
 
 poetical translations from Virgil and Homer, began the 
 study of Latin when about forty years of age, and Greek 
 in his forty-fourth. Boecacio, one of the most illustrious 
 writers that ever appeared in Italy, suffered nearly half 
 of his life to pass without improvement. Handel was 
 forty-eight before he published any of his great works. 
 Dr. Thomas Arnold, of Rugby, learned German at forty, 
 in order that he might read Niebuhr in the original. 
 
 A long time ago, a little boy twelve years old, on his 
 road to Vermont, stopped at a country tavern, and paid 
 for his lodging and breakfast by sawing wood, instead of 
 asking for it as a gift. Fifty years later, the same boy 
 passed that same little inn as George Peabody, the banker, 
 whose name had become the synonym of magnificient 
 charities — the honored of two hemispheres. He was 
 born poor in Danvers, Massachusetts, and by beginning 
 right and pursuing a strict course of honesty, integrity, 
 industry, activity and Christian benevolence, he had been 
 able to amass great wealth, all, or nearly all of which, he 
 gave to benevolent and charitable purposes. 
 
 Peter Cooper, the founder of Cooper Institute, New 
 York, which he built and gave, with the ground, to the 
 city, to be devoted to the elevation of the working classes, 
 by instruction without charge, was born poor, and worked 
 hard in a hatter's shop until he was seventeen, then 
 learned coach making. He built after his own design, 
 the first locomotive engine ever used on this continent. 
 
 When Cornelius Vanderbilt was a young man, his 
 mother gave him fifty dollars of her savings to buy a 
 small sail boat, and he engaged in the business of trans- 
 porting market-gardening from Staten Island to New 
 York city. When the wind was not favorable he would 
 work his way over the shoals by pushing the boat along 
 by poles, putting his own shoulder to the pole, and was 
 very sure to get his freight in market in season. This 
 energy gave him always a command of full freights, and 
 he accumulated money. After awhile he began to build 
 and run steamboats. Then he became the principal 
 owner of great lines of railroads, and before his death 
 had became one of the wealthiest men in the world. 
 
752 POOR BOYS AND GREAT EMINENCE. 
 
 Mr. Tobin, who was the millionaire President of the 
 Hudson River Railroad Company before he was forty years 
 of age, began life as a steamboat clerk with Commodore 
 Vanderbilt. When he took his position, Mr. Vanderbilt 
 gave him two orders : first, to collect fare of everybody 
 and have no deadheads on the boat ; second, to start the 
 boat on time, and wait for nobody. Tobin obeyed orders 
 so literally that he collected fare of the Commodore on 
 the first evening, and left him on the wharf the next- 
 morning, as the boat could not wait. The Commodore 
 was coming down the wharf, leisurely, and supposed, of 
 course, the boat would wait for him. He proved a man 
 after Yanderbilt's own heart; became his confidential 
 clerk and broker, bought and sold Harlem and made for 
 himself a fortune. 
 
 Charles Crocker, when a poor boy, crossed the plains, 
 driving an ox team. Nineteen years later he was Presi- 
 dent of the Central Pacific Railroad. Governor William 
 M. Stone, of Iowa, was once a canal driver in Ohio at 
 three dollars per month, and General Garfield, at sixteen 
 years of age, was also a driver on the Ohio canal. 
 
 Far back in the teens of the present century, a young 
 man asked for employment in the Springfield armory : 
 but he was poor and modest, and had no friends, so he went 
 away without it ; but, feeling the man within him, he 
 sought work until he found it. An age later, he visited 
 that armory a second time, not as a common day-laborer, 
 but as the ablest speaker of the House of Representatives, 
 and for many years Governor of Massachusetts. 
 
 Roger Sherman, who was a member of Congress from 
 Connecticut, was sent there from the shoemaker's bench. 
 President John Adams, the elder, was the son of a shoe- 
 maker, and was in youth himself put to the trade, by his 
 father, a pious deacon. 
 
 Stephen Girard left his native country at the age of ten 
 or twelve years, as cabin boy on a vessel. He came to New 
 York in that capacity. His deportment was distinguished 
 by such fidelity, industry and temperance, that he won the 
 attachment and confidence of his master, who generally 
 bestowed on him the appellation of "my Stephen." 
 
POOR BOYS AND GREAT EMINENCE 753 
 
 When his master gave up business he promoted Girard 
 to the command of a small vessel. Girard was a self- 
 taught man, and the world was his school. It was a 
 favorite theme with him, when he afterwards grew rich, 
 to relate that he commenced life with a sixpence, and to 
 insist that a man's best capital was his industry. All 
 professions and all occupations, which afforded a just 
 reward for labor, were alike honorable in his estimation. 
 He was never too proud to work. In the time of the 
 fever, in 1793, when consternation had seized the whole 
 population of the city of Philadelphia, Stephen Girard, 
 then a rich merchant, offered his services as a nurse in 
 the hospital. His offers were accepted, and in the per- 
 formance of the most loathsome duties, he walked 
 unharmed in the midst of the pestilence. He used to 
 say to his friends, " When you are sick, if anything ails 
 you, do not go to a doctor, but come to me, I will cure 
 you." 
 
 Of P. R. Spencer, the author of the Spencerian system 
 of penmanship, it is said that, "the smooth sand beach 
 of Lake Erie constituted the foolscap in and on which, 
 for want of other material, he perfected essentially the 
 system which meets such general favor in our common 
 and commercial schools, and in our business and literary 
 circles." When we reflect upon the immense popularity 
 of his system, which, passing beyond the limits of our 
 own country, has been re-engraved in England, is used in 
 the model counting-rooms of London, Liverpool and Man- 
 chester, and is also the adopted system of the English 
 Department of the University of Zurich, in Switzerland, 
 we must accord to its honored author chaste and elevated 
 powers of conception, with bold and tireless grasp, of just 
 apprehension, and agree that the barefooted boy of sixty 
 years ago must have been thinking, and thinking aright, 
 and thinking with no ordinary mind, when he gave to his 
 coinings in the sands such vitality of science, that the 
 world has adopted and embalmed them as the most beau- 
 tiful imagery of " the art." 
 
 Said Daniel Webster : " It is only the shallowed-minded 
 pretenders who make either distinguished origin a matter 
 48 
 
~':^ :::: :::s a>t gkeat eminence. 
 
 of personal merit, or obscure origin a matter of personal 
 reproach. A man who is not ashamed of himself, need 
 not be ashamed of his early condition. It did happen to 
 me to be born in a log cabin, raised among the snowdrifts 
 of Xew Hampshire, at a peroid so early that when the 
 smoke first rose from its rude chimney, and curled 
 the frozen hills, there was : -irnilar evidence of a white 
 man's habitation between it and the settlement on the 
 Canada. Its remains still exist I make it an annual 
 visit. I carry my children i it> and teach them the 
 hardships endured by the generations before them. I love 
 to dwell on the tender recollections, the kindred 
 early affections, and the narration and incidents which 
 mingle with all I know of this primitive family abode. 
 I weep to think that none of those who inhabited it are 
 
 anione the living ; and if I fail in affe : _ : r iteration 
 
 _ 
 
 for him who raised it. and defended it against savage 
 violence and destruction, cherished all domestic comforts 
 beneath its roof and through the fire and blood of b 
 years* revolutionary war. shrank from no toil, no sacrifice, 
 : save his country and to raise his children to a cone 
 better than his own, may my name and the name of my 
 posterity be blotted from the memory of manki: 
 
 A man who is not at Lc art ashamed of himself need 
 not be ashamed of his early condition in life. Many of 
 the most eminent names the history of our country and 
 of the world can produce have sprung from obscurity. 
 Obscurity and poverty are the wholesome disciplinary 
 methods of nature to insure what otherwise would not be 
 done. Wealth is really nothing, or if more than nothing, 
 it is a clog to the career of any sound mind in a sound 
 . Eemember this, when social supercilliousness would 
 depress, when opulence forgets its true origin, and station 
 turns its back upon the ladder it has used to mount above 
 the ordinary level. 
 
THE FIEST THOUSAND DOLLARS. 755 
 
 THE FIRST THOUSAND DOLLARS. 
 
 The first thousand dollars that a young man, after go- 
 ing into the world to act for himself, earns and saves. 
 will generally settle the question of business life with 
 him. There may be exceptions to that statement ; yet, 
 for a rule, we think it will hold true. 
 
 The first condition is that the young man actually 
 earns the thousand dollars in question. He does not 
 inherit this sum. It does not come by what is improperly 
 called •• a streak of good luck," as the result of a for- 
 tunate venture in the purchase and sale of stock, or lots, 
 or land. It is the fruit of personal industry. He gives 
 his time and his labor for it. While he is earning and 
 saving it, he must earn two or three, perhaps four times 
 as much, to pay his current expenses. He is conse- 
 quently held sternly to the task of industry for a very 
 considerable period. The direct consequence to him is a 
 steady, continuous, and solid discipline in the habit of 
 industry, in patient, persistent forecast and self-denying 
 effort, breaking up all the tendencies to indolence and 
 frivolity, and making him an earnest and watchful econo- 
 mist of time. 
 
 He not only learns how to work, but he also acquires 
 the love of work; and moreover, he learns the value of 
 the suru which he has thus sa\~ed out of his earnings. 
 He has toiled for it ; he has observed its slow increase 
 from time to time. and. in his estimate, it represen: 
 many months or years of practical labor. His ideas of 
 life are shaped by his own experience. And the effects 
 of earning the first thousand dollars are naturally just 
 the qualities of mind and body which are most likely to 
 secure business success in after years. They constitute 
 the best practical education which man can have as a 
 worker in this working world. They are gained in sea- 
 son for life's purposes, at the opening period, just when 
 they are needed, when foolish notions are most likely to 
 mislead an experienced brain, and when, too, there is a 
 
756 success. 
 
 full opportunity for their expansion and development in 
 later years. 
 
 Men have but one life to live ; and hence they start 
 from opening manhood at once. And the manner in 
 which they start, the purposes they have in view, and 
 the habits they form will ordinarily determine the entire 
 sequel of their career on earth. To succeed, men must 
 have the elements of success in themselves. 
 
 One great reason why there are so many useless, inef- 
 ficient, and poverty-stricken men — or rather boys seem- 
 ing to be men — consists in the simple fact that they did 
 not start right. A prominent reason why the children 
 of the rich so frequently amount to nothing may be found 
 in the luxury, ease, and indolence which marred the com- 
 mencement of their lives. It is the law of God that we 
 should be workers on the earth ; and no one so well con- 
 sults the best development of his being as when he con- 
 forms his practice to this law. The workers in their 
 suitable sphere are the only strong men. 
 
 SUCCESS. 
 
 Twenty clerks in a store ; twenty hands in a printing 
 office; twenty apprentices in a shipyard; twenty young 
 men in a village — all want to get on in the world, and 
 expect to do so. One of the clerks will become a partner 
 and make a fortune ; one of the compositors will own a 
 newspaper and become an influential citizen ; one of the 
 apprentices will become a master builder; one of the 
 young villagers will get a handsome farm and live like a 
 patriarch — but which one is the lucky individual? 
 Lucky ! there is no luck about it. The thing is almost 
 as certain as the Rule of Three. The young fellow who 
 will distance his competitors is he who masters his bus- 
 iness, who preserves his integrity, who lives cleanly and 
 purely, who devotes his leisure hours to the acquisition of 
 knowledge, who never gets into debt, who gains friends 
 by deserving them, and who saves his spare money. 
 
success. 757 
 
 There are some ways to fortune shorter than this old 
 dusty highway — but the staunch men of the community, 
 the men who achieve something really worth having, 
 good fortune and serene old age, all go on in this road. 
 
 We hear a good deal about " good luck " and " bad 
 luck." If a person has prospered in business, he is said 
 to have had " good luck." If he has failed, he has had 
 " bad luck." If he has been sick, good or bad luck is said 
 to have visited him, accordingly as he got well or died. 
 Or, if he has remained in good health, while others have 
 been attacked by some epidemic disease, he has had the 
 "good luck" to escape that with which others have had 
 the " bad luck " to be seized. 
 
 These habitual expressions about "luck," whether good 
 or bad, are the offspring of atheism. They ignore the 
 idea of Divine Providence, which, Christianity teaches us, 
 superintends all the affairs of men. Good or bad luck is 
 in most cases but a synonym for good or bad judgment. 
 The prudent, the considerate, and the circumspect seldom 
 complain of ill luck. 
 
 Men who succeed generally have started right. A 
 youth who starts out in life with an earnest determination 
 to be honest, upright, faithful to all trusts, punctual, atten- 
 tive, and, above all, God-fearing, has promise of abundant 
 success. Though he be without money, or wealthy 
 friends, he will be sure to gain all that he most desires. 
 
 Take earnestly hold of life, as capacitated for, and 
 destined to a high and noble purpose and end. Study 
 closely the mind's bent for labor or a profession. Adopt 
 some pursuit early, follow it steadily, never looking back- 
 ward to the turned furrow, but always forward to the 
 new ground that ever remains to be broken. Means and 
 ways are abundant to every man's success, if will and 
 action are rightly adapted to them. Our rich men and 
 our great men have carved their paths to fortune and 
 fame by this rule — a rule that cannot fail to reward its 
 votary if it be resolutely pursued. To sigh or repine over 
 a lack of inheritance is unmanly. Every man should 
 strive to be a creator rather than an inheritor. He 
 should bequeath rather than borrow. The human race 
 
758 success. 
 
 in this respect, wants dignity and discipline. It prefers 
 wielding the sword of valorous forefathers to forging its 
 weapons. This is a mean and ignoble spirit. Let every 
 man be conscious of the God in him, and the Providence 
 over him, and fight his own battle with his good lance. 
 Let him feel that it is nobler to eat a crust than to 
 inherit coffers. This spirit of nobility, once learned, and 
 every man will discover within himself, under God, the 
 elements and capacities of wealth. He will be rich — ines- 
 timably rich in self-resources, and can lift his face proudly 
 to meet the noblest among men. The poet well says : 
 
 " I scorn the man who boasts his birth, 
 And counts his titles and his lands ; 
 Who takes his name and heritage 
 From out a dying father's hands." 
 
 Who are the successful men? They are those who 
 when boys were compelled to work either to help them- 
 selves or their parents, and who, when a little older, were 
 under the stern necessity of doing more than their legit- 
 imate share of labor ; who as young men had their wits 
 sharpened by having to devise ways and means of making 
 their time more available than it would be under ordinary 
 circumstances. Hence in reading the lives of eminent men 
 who have greatly distinguished themselves, we find their 
 youth passed in self-denials of food, sleep, rest, and recrea- 
 tion. They sat up late, rose early, to the performance ot 
 imperative duties, doing by daylight the work of one man, 
 and by night that of another. Said a gentleman, the 
 other day, now a private banker of high integrity, and 
 who started in life without a dollar, " For years I was 
 in my place of business by sunrise, and often did not leave 
 it for fifteen or eighteen hours." Let not then any youth 
 be discouraged if he has to make his own living, or even 
 to support a widowed mother, or sick sister, or unfortu- 
 nate relative ; for this has been the road to eminence of 
 many a proud name. This is the path which printers and 
 teachers have often trod — thorny enough at times, at 
 others so beset with obstacles as to be almost impassable : ; 
 but the way was cleared, sunshine came, success followed — 
 then the glory and renown. 
 
success. 759 
 
 In nine cases out of ten, no man's life will be a success 
 if he does not bear burdens in his childhood. If the 
 fondness or the vanity of father and mother kept him 
 from contact with hard labor ; if what was light always 
 fell to him, and what was heavy about the same work was 
 always done by some one else ; if he has been permitted 
 to shirk until shirking has become a habit — unless a mir- 
 acle is wrought, his life will be a failure, and the blame 
 will not be half as much his as that of weak, foolish par- 
 ents. On the other hand if a boy has been brought up to 
 do his part, never allowed to shirk any. legitimate respon- 
 sibility, or permitted to dodge work, until bearing heavy 
 burdens became a matter of pride, the chances are that 
 the elements of success are his, and at some time and in 
 some way the world will recognize his capacity. 
 
 The secret of one's success or failure in nearly every 
 enterprise is usually contained in answer to the question : 
 How earnest is he? Success is the child of confidence 
 and perseverance. The talent of success is simply doing 
 what you can do well, and doing well whatever you do — 
 without a thought of fame. Fame never comes because 
 it is craved. Success is the best test of capacity. Success 
 is not always a proper criterion for judging a man's char- 
 acter. It is certain that success naturally confirms us in 
 a favorable opinion of ourselves. Success in life consists 
 in the proper and harmonious development of those fac- 
 ulties which God has given us. 
 
 Be thrifty that you may have wherewith to be charit- 
 able. He that labors and thrives, spins gold. 
 
 Whatever you try to do in life, try with all your heart 
 to do it well; whatever you devote yourself to, devote 
 yourself to it completely ; in great aims and small, be 
 thoroughly in earnest. Never believe it possible that any 
 natural or improved ability can claim immunity from the 
 companionship of the steady, plain, hard-working qual- 
 ities, and hope to gain in the end. There is no substitute 
 for thorough-going, ardent and sincere earnestness. Never 
 put one hand to anything on which you can throw your 
 whole self; never affect depreciation of your work, what- 
 ever it is. You will find these to be golden rules. 
 
760 success. 
 
 The great secret of success in life consists in bending 
 all your efforts to that in which you engage. Don't let 
 your fickleness lead you to slight your present occupation, 
 and to think lightly of it, hoping something better will 
 turn up by and by. The way to get along in the world 
 is to make every step one that is ahead, and each to fol- 
 low its predecessor. Fully fifty per cent, of the effort of 
 the world is absolutely wasted in indirect, diffuse, indefi- 
 nite labors. Young men start out in life without purpose 
 or point, casting a thought neither on their fitness nor 
 unfitness for a particular calling; now doing this thing, 
 then that ; and after that nothing ; one day going on the 
 right hand, another on the left, the next backward, and 
 then not going at all. The right line in life is the one 
 that leads straight ahead. This almost always secures 
 success. If you are creeping, do it energetically until 
 you can get on your feet to walk ; but never do both at 
 once. 
 
 Stick to one thing. Continual dropping wears away 
 the rock ; the most stubborn obstacles become at length 
 as cobweb barriers before a never flagging energy. Go 
 out in the Spring, when the sun is yet far distant, and 
 you can scarcely feel the influence of his beams, scattered 
 as they are ; but collect those beams in a focus, and they 
 kindle up a flame in an instant. So the man that squan- 
 ders his talents and his strength on many things will 
 fail to make an impression on any; but let him draw 
 them to a point — let him strike at a single object — and 
 it will yield before him. 
 
 Plodders are laughed at by the world, but they gen- 
 erally live long enough to laugh, if they will, at the fools 
 who pass judgment upon them. Plodders are philos- 
 ophers. They labor on the solid rock. They select with 
 caution, and hold on with courage. If there is merit, 
 they discover and develop it. All honor to the plodder. 
 He may not be the sun that shines to blindness, but he is 
 that which warms, nourishes, and builds up. There is 
 no greater obstacle in the way of success in life, than 
 trusting for something to turn up, instead of going stead- 
 ily to work and turning up something. 
 
success. 761 
 
 To succeed, a man, especially a young one, should have 
 inward firmness, steadiness, and intrepidity, with exterior 
 modesty and seeming diffidence. He must modestly but 
 resolutely assert his own rights and privileges. He 
 should have an apparent frankness and openness, but 
 within, caution and coolness. All these things will come 
 by frequenting with and observing good company. Make 
 perseverance your bosom friend, experience your wise 
 counselor, caution your elder brother, and hope your 
 guardian genius. Success is the child of cheerfulness and 
 courage. 
 
 " No profit grows where no pleasure's ta'en." — Shak. 
 
 This is another great secret underlying all success. 
 We must love our pursuit — and then our heart is in it, 
 and we shall give it our attention — not divided, as it 
 would be if the hands were employed in one thing and 
 the heart in another, which is often the case. It makes 
 a man unhappy as well as unsuccessful. We do not heed 
 this enough. The ancients did more than we do — and 
 they succeeded even in those early days. Let us do what 
 we like to do if it is consistent with good morals. 
 
 The most important element of success is economy — 
 economy of money and economy of time. Let the bus- 
 iness of everybody else alone, and attend to your own; 
 don't buy what you don't want; use every hour to 
 advantage, and study to make leisure hours useful ; think 
 twice before you throw away a shilling — remember you 
 will have another to make for it; find recreation over 
 your own business ; buy low, sell fair, and take care of 
 the profits ; look over your books regularly, and, if you 
 find an error trace it out ; should a stroke of misfortune 
 come over your trade, retrench, work harder, but never 
 fly the track; confront difficulties with unceasing per- 
 severance, and they will disappear at last; though you 
 should fail in the struggle, you will be honored; but 
 shrink from the task and you will be despised. 
 
 Success rides on every hour, grapple it and you may 
 win, but without a grapple it will never go with you. 
 Work is the weapon of honor, and he who lacks the 
 
762 success. 
 
 weapon will never triumph. The world estimates men 
 by their success in life ; by general consent success is evi- 
 dence of superiority. Nothing succeeds like success. 
 
 In any age, but especially in ours, the faint-hearted 
 must fail. The way to great results is always beset by 
 difficulties that only determined effort can overcome. 
 Ofttimes the difficulties to be surmounted are great in 
 proportion to the magnitude of the end, so that the 
 grandest of human achievements have come of an energy 
 and determination more than earthly. The greatest 
 talents have sometimes lost an occasion worthy of them- 
 selves, simply from indecision, while smaller minds have 
 seized the hour, and with resistless will accomplished 
 their purpose. Indecision is a weakness, sometimes a sin. 
 Decision of character can and should be cultivated. 
 
 They who are eminently successful in business, or who 
 achieve greatness, or even notoriety in any pursuit, must 
 expect to make enemies. Whoever becomes distinguished 
 is sure to be a mark for the malicious spite of those who, 
 not deserving success themselves, are galled by the 
 merited triumph of the more worthy. Moreover, the 
 opposition which originates in such despicable motives, is 
 sure to be of the most unscrupulous character ; hesitating 
 at no iniquity, descending to the shabbiest littleness. 
 Opposition, if it be honest and manly, is not in itself 
 undesirable. It is the whetstone by which a highly 
 tempered nature is polished and sharpened ; and the com- 
 petitor in life's struggle, who is of the true metal, depre- 
 cates not opposition of such a character, but rather 
 rejoices in it, as a brave warrior exults in a foeman 
 worthy of his steel. It is only injustice or meanness 
 which wounds ; and it is this which the successful must 
 meet proportioned in bitterness, ofttimes, to the measure 
 of success which excites it. 
 
 To succeed in life, we must learn to take men as they 
 are, and not as they ought to be ; making them better if 
 we can, but at the same time remembering their infirm- 
 ities. We have to deal, not with the ideal man of dream- 
 ing poets, but with the real man of every day life, men 
 precisely like ourselves. This fact of common aims, 
 
MAXIMS OF EMINENT MEN. 76 8 
 
 ambitions, and infirmities, ought to create constant sym- 
 pathy and forbearance. While every man has his own 
 burden to bear, he may at the same time in some way 
 help another to bear his peculiar burden, and be himself 
 helped in turn. God has mysteriously linked all men 
 together by this curious fact of mutual dependence, and 
 this wonderful possibility of mutual help. 
 
 MAXIMS OF EMINENT MEN. 
 
 A man's favorite maxim is often an embodiment of his 
 leading idea and aim. It is thus the die which imprints 
 itself on his whole character and history. 
 
 It was a maxim with Washington, " Never to put off to 
 to-morrow what ought to be done and could be done to-day" 
 That was the maxim of a man of principle. As soon as 
 the needle of conscience settled in the direction of right, 
 his mind was made up. He did not consult the wind and 
 the current charts of popular opinion, to know what 
 course he should steer. And when he had decided what 
 to do, the sooner it was done the better. 
 
 The maxim of Talleyrand was precisely the opposite : 
 "Never to do to-day what could be put off till to-morrow" 
 Precisely opposite, too, was the character of which this 
 maxim was a genuine and idiosyncratic emanation. 
 Talleyrand had no principles. He avowed his conviction 
 that a blunder was worse than a crime. The merit 
 or demerit of an action was, with him, determinable 
 solely by its results. He lived by expedients. Of 
 course, therefore, he put off the moment of decision 
 and action as long as he could, that he might adapt 
 it to the last phase of royal caprice or popular opinion. 
 His maxim made a wily politician and a perpetual 
 office-holder ; but it would never have made the founder 
 of a state ; or the model character of a race of thoughtful 
 freemen. 
 
 When Alexander was giving away estates and domains, 
 with lavish prodigality, before setting forth on his east- 
 
764 maxims or eminent mem 
 
 ward march, Perdiccas asked hhn what he : 1 for 
 
 himself. Hope — was the sole reply. And the whole 
 secret of his wondrous career of insatiable conquest^ fear- 
 less intrepidity and boundless aspiration, lies wrapped 
 up in that sublime answer. 
 
 The cold and tardy but energetic and aspiring char- 
 acter of Charles Fifth, is embodied in his famous max- 
 im — Not Yet. 
 
 The maxim ascribed to Torstensohn was very rem 
 able. Torstensohn was, physically, so shattered and dis- 
 located by disease or deformity, that he could ne: 
 walk nor ride on horseback. He had to be carried al 
 head of his forces in a Utter. Yet no commander of 
 his age was so resistless and terrible in his onset an 
 invariably victorious. Schiller has expressed his leading 
 maxim in these words : u He never court' 
 Carrying on war in the heart of Germany, he and his 
 little force of Swedes were matched against the fi 
 armies and most renowned generals of Europe. Bat how 
 brave, how strong, how many they were, it matterec. 
 He alwaj's fought, he always attacked. All that vigilance 
 and forethought could do, he did. But having made his 
 dispositions so as to ward off, as far as possible, the g 
 and seize on the advantages of his position, he dashr 
 the foe with that fiery and tempestuous valor which 
 inspiring to the assailant and so appalling to the resisting 
 force. There is something truly sublime in a oot 
 which fears no danger and shrinks from no odds 
 tensohn felt that he was contending for truth, and right. 
 and humanity against the gigantic tyranny of Ansl 
 which was then fast growing to the dimensions of a con- 
 tinental empire. How far his lofty confidence wa 
 religious inspiration we are not able to say. Bu: 
 might and grandeur of that maxim — he never counted 
 his enemies — was apparent from that brilliant succession 
 of victories by which central Europe was freed forever 
 from the deadly coils of Austrian oppression. 
 
 The favorite maxim with John Jay was, u Sever to 
 desert a friend, and never to court an enemy:'' T:.r -.:::- 
 man, the pure and austere patriot, the moral hero, shine 
 
MAXIMS OF EMINENT MEN. 765' 
 
 forth in that noble sentiment. The maxim was faithfully 
 reproduced in the man. 
 
 An eminent Italian painter was asked how he had 
 reached such admirable excellence in his art. " Simply 
 by following out," he replied, " the maxim, i Nulla dies 
 sine linea,' " — (No day without a line.) It was only a 
 more life-like way of expressing the common proverb, 
 " Practice makes perfect." 
 
 "No day without one act of love" was the maxim of 
 the benevolent and Christian Lavater. How rich in good 
 works and happy memories that maxim made his life, 
 and would make the life of any one who should fully act 
 it out. 
 
 The founder of the celebrated house of the Rothschilds 
 is said to have ascribed his success to a strict adherence to 
 the following rules : " I combined three profits ; I made 
 the manufacturer my customer, and the one I bought of 
 my customer; that is, I supplied the manufacturer with the 
 raw material and dyes, on each of which I made a profit, 
 and his manufactured goods, which I sold at a profit; 
 and thus combined three profits. Make a bargain at once. 
 Be an off-handed man. Never have anything to do with an 
 unlucky man or jrtace- I have seen, said he, many clever 
 men who had not shoes to their feet. I never act with 
 them ; their advice sounds very well, but fate is against 
 them. They can not get on themselves ; how can they 
 do good to me ? Be cautious and bold. It requires a 
 great deal of boldness and a great deal of caution to make 
 a great fortune ; and when you have got it, it requires ten 
 times as much wit to keep it." 
 
 David Ricardo, the distinguished writer on political 
 economy, used to press on his friends the observance of 
 the following laconic rules : " Never refuse an option 
 when you can get it. Cut short your losses. Let your 
 profits run on." 
 
 Upon the tomb of John McDonough, the New Orleans 
 millionaire, are engraved the following maxims, which he 
 had made the rules for his guidance through life, and to 
 which his success is mainly attributable : " Remember 
 always that labor is one of the conditions of our existence. 
 
'766 MAXIMS OF EMINENT MEN. 
 
 Time is gold ; throw not one minute away, but place each 
 one to account. Do unto all men as you would be done 
 by. Never put off till to-morrow what you can do to- 
 day. Never bid. another to do what you can do yourself. 
 Never covet what is not your own. Never think any 
 matter so trifling as not to deserve notice. Never give 
 out that which does not first come in. Never spend but 
 to produce. Let the greatest order regulate the transac- 
 tions of your life. Study in your course of life to do the 
 greatest amount of good. Deprive yourself of nothing 
 necessary to your comfort, but live in an honorable sim- 
 plicity and frugality. Labor, then, to the last moment of 
 your existence." 
 
 The motto of Hon. John Freedley was "self-depend- 
 ence, self-reliance" He says, "it is a mistaken notion 
 that ca'pital alone is necessary to success in business. If 
 a man has head and hands suited to his business, it will 
 soon procure him capital. My observations through life 
 satisfy me that at least nine-tenths of those most success- 
 ful in business start in life without any reliance except 
 their own head and hands — hoe their own row from the 
 jump." 
 
 Amos Lawrence says, " I have had these mentors before 
 me : Do what you undertake thoroughly. Be faithful in 
 all accepted trusts. I am satisfied they have served me 
 well three-score years." 
 
 The following are from the pen of the great American 
 philosopher, Benjamin Franklin, and though often printed, 
 lose nothing of their value by repetition : 
 
 " He that by the plow would thrive, 
 Himself must either hold or drive. 
 
 " Plow deep, while sluggards sleep, and you shall have 
 corn to sell and to keep. Pride is as loud a beggar as 
 Want, and a great deal more saucy. Silks and satins, 
 scarlets and velvets, put out the kitchen fire. Diligence 
 is the mother of Good Luck. Pride breakfasted with 
 Plenty, dined with Poverty, and supped with Infamy. 
 Extravagance and Improvidence end at the prison door. 
 It is easier to build two chimneys than to keep one in 
 
MAXIMS OF EMINENT MEN. 767 
 
 fuel. If you would know the value of money, go and try 
 to borrow some. The eye of a master will do more work 
 than both his hands. What maintains one vice would 
 bring up two children. He that goes a borrowing, returns 
 sorrowing. Rather go to bed supperless, than rise in debt. 
 Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than labor wears. A 
 life of leisure and a life of laziness, are two different 
 things. Three removes are as bad as a fire. Creditors have 
 hetter memories than debtors. The rolling stone gathers 
 no moss. If you would have your business done, go ; if 
 not, send. It is foolish to lay out money in the purchase 
 of repentance. Buy what thou neeclest not, and it will 
 oblige thee to sell thy necessaries." 
 
 President Jefferson, in a letter of advice to his name- 
 sake Thomas Jefferson Smith, wrote as follows : " Never 
 put off till to-morrow, what you can do to-day. Never 
 trouble others for what you can do yourself. Never spend 
 your money before you have it. Never buy what you do 
 not want, because it is cheap. Pride costs us more than 
 hunger, thirst, or cold. We never repent of having eaten 
 too little. Nothing is troublesome that we do willingly. 
 How much pain have those evils cost us which never 
 happened. Take things always by the smooth handle. 
 When angry, count ten before you speak ; if very angry, 
 a hundred." 
 
 Stephen Allen, a former maj^or of New York, a man 
 of ample fortune and of the purest character^ who lived to 
 a ripe old age, beloved and esteemed by all who knew 
 him, carried in his pocket to his death the following : 
 
 "Keep good company or none. Never be idle. If 
 your hands cannot be usefully employed, attend to the 
 cultivation of your mind. Always speak the truth. 
 Live up to your engagements. Keep your own secrets, if 
 you have any. When you speak to a person, look him 
 in the face. Good company and good conversation are 
 the very sinews of virtue. Good character is above all 
 things else. Your character cannot be essentially injured 
 except by your own acts. If any one speaks evil of you, 
 let your life be so that none believe him. Drink no kind 
 of intoxicating liquors. Ever live, (misfortunes excepted,) 
 
 i 
 
768 
 
 MAXIMS OF EMINENT MEN. 
 
 within your income. When you retire to bed, thmK over 
 what you have been doing during the day. Make no 
 haste to be rich, if you would prosper. Small and steady 
 gains give competency with tranquility of mind. Never 
 play at any kind of game of chance. Avoid temptation, 
 through fear you may not withstand it. Earn money 
 before you spend it. Never run in debt, unless you see a 
 way to get out of it. Do not marry until you are able to 
 support a wife. Never speak evil of any one. Be just 
 before you are generous. Keep yourself innocent if you 
 would be happy. Save when you are young to spend 
 when you are old. Bead over the above maxims at least 
 once a week." 
 
 We add the following : " Never ridicule sacred things, 
 or what others may esteem such, however absurd they 
 may appear to be. 
 
 " Never show levity when the people are professedly 
 engaged in worship. 
 
 " Never resent a supposed injury till you know the 
 views and motives of it. Nor on any account retaliate. 
 
 u Never judge a person's character by personal appear- 
 .ance. 
 
 " Always take the part of an absent person who is cen- 
 sured in company, so far as truth and propriety will allow. 
 
 " Never think the worse of another on account of his 
 differing from you in political or religious opinion." 
 
 H 132 82 
 
^cr 
 
 
 
 ^6* 
 
 
 : /%. °I 
 
 
 4* 
 
 
 V* 
 
 ^ ^ 
 
 
 
 *o 
 
^ 
 
 ;♦ -> 
 
 A <3* .■ 
 
 
 
 
 v 
 
 
 
 &X X-^kvV o°*,C^% .^\^>V 
 
 
 -. *>o« 
 
 
 ^V V^ f V V^v V*^V 
 ;% " •"</..-•. V" ' ><* .-.. v "• V 6 '.'0 
 
 §r« -s « *^HaEfc*a^« A V/SSCJg^r raw*- 
 
 *<3* .' 
 
 <* ^ A •? 
 
 v .^5 °*> 
 
 **c 
 
 v^.-\y v^'V 
 
 
 4?* -' 
 
 
 - » ^ 
 
 
 / 
 
 
 
 ^0« 
 
 ■bV 
 
 •*■*• \/ :^U& .^* 1 
 
 
 
 <* •' . 
 
 '^«i 
 
 c v ,« 
 
 
 
 APR 82 
 
 N. MANCHESTER, 
 INDIANA 46962 
 
 
 
 v^ 
 
 V .\