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MIND YOUll MOTHER. 
 
 AN OLD MAN'S STOKY. 
 
 SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, 
 
 200 MULBEIIKY-8TK?:ET» new YORK, 
 
MIXD YOUR MOTHER. 
 
 Come, boys, here is a story for 
 3^ou. I want yon all to come close 
 to me and hear every word I say, 
 for it may be of great nse to yon. T 
 was a boy once, and I know very 
 well how boys feel. I am a man 
 now, bnt I have had as much to do 
 
4 MIND YOUR MOTHER. 
 
 with boys as T liave with men, and 
 1 alvv^ays Hko to see boys try to do 
 right, and T love to help them do 
 so. 
 
 God has been very kind to spare 
 yonr mother alive to watch over and 
 care for yon. What I want to tell 
 yon is how to treat lier. Now don't 
 tnrn np 3^onrnose, as mnch as to say, 
 *' that is not worth hearing, it don't 
 concern me." Let me tell yon it 
 does concern yon very mnch. It 
 has to do with what kind of a man 
 
MIND YOUR MOTHER. 5 
 
 you will make in the world. 
 AVhen I was a boy no larger than 
 you are, my mother used to tell me 
 that she never knew any one to do 
 well in the world that did not treat 
 his mother well. She said that wlieu 
 she was youno- she had known 
 many boys lliat did not treat their 
 mothers well, and tliey all came to 
 some bad end. 
 
 J know three bovs tliat did not 
 treat tlieir mothers well, and I 
 made np my mind to watch and see 
 
G MIND YOUR MOTHER. 
 
 liow they turned out in the world. 
 That was a good many years ago, 
 for you see I am old and gray now. 
 I will call them Bill, and Dick, and 
 Sam. It is all just as fresh in my 
 mind as if it was only two days ago. 
 They were all in the same class 
 with me at school. I knew their 
 mothers too yery well, for I often 
 went home with them to i)\i\y. 
 
 Bill was a nice boy when he was 
 among us. lie was always gay and 
 full of life, and very often at the 
 
MIND YOUR MOTHER. 7 
 
 head of his class. One day I was 
 at his house. We were, it may 
 be, as many as ten of ns pla3nng a 
 fine game of ball on the green in 
 front of the house. By atld by Bill t^ 
 motlier came to the door and called 
 him. 
 
 At first Bill did not seem to hear 
 it, we were all so busy at play. 
 "Bill.'' said T, "your mother calls 
 rou." 
 
 Just then he ran close by her, 
 and so he stopped to hear what she 
 
8 MIND rOUU MOTIIEIl. 
 
 i 
 
 had to say. " Here, my son, T want 
 you to take this box down to the f 
 
 ?hop to your tather. lie wants it 
 .before nigh^t." 
 
 " But I don't wa;it to go^ n70ther." 
 
 " Well, you must g'o." 
 
 "But I'm at play and 1 can't go. 
 I'm in tlie game." 
 
 " I tell 3^ou, you must go at once, 
 and that is all there is about it." 
 
 Just then the other party who 
 w^ere in the game beat, and set up a 
 loud huzza; and Bill, luilf vexed that 
 
MIND YOUR MOTHER. 9 
 
 Iho game had gone against liim, 
 picked up a stick and threw it at 
 his mother, saying, "AYell, I won't 
 go, there ! yon may go yourself for 
 what I care," and off he ran. I 
 turned just in time to see the stick 
 fall from her dress, and to see how 
 sad she looked when she went into 
 the house. 
 
 I never before had seen a bov 
 strike his mother, or throw anything 
 at her, and it made me feel so ])adly 
 that I could play no more. I told 
 
10 MIND YOUR MOTHER. 
 
 the boys that T did not feel well and 
 ] must go home. Indeed, it made 
 me quite heart-sick. I thought of 
 all my mother had told me about 
 boys tliat did not mind their mother, 
 and I thought I would see how it 
 went with Bill. But I loved Bill, 
 and it made me sad to think that he 
 was the one that would liave such 
 bad things come upon him. 
 
 Perhaps he would have done bet- 
 ter if his mother had spoken more 
 kindly to him, but that was no ex- 
 
MIND YOUR MOTHER. 11 
 
 X cuse for his bad actions. T used to 
 
 talk to him about it, and tell him 
 what I feared for him ; but he would 
 onl}^ laugh at me, or if he tried to do 
 better it was only for a little while. 
 Before he grew up to be a man he 
 
 % was taken sick. His mother was 
 
 very kind to him, and he learned to 
 love her better then. But lie never 
 got well. Year after year he lay on 
 his sick bed, or sat in his easy chair, 
 and I often went to see him and 
 talk with him, and at last l>e died. 
 
12 MIND YOUR MOTHER. 
 
 The next boy was Dick. ITis 
 iiiotlier used to let liira do just as 
 jlie cliose in all things. If he wanted 
 anything she was sure to do it for 
 liim ; but if she wanted anj^thing of 
 him, he was s.^re not to do it for her. 
 
 T never saw a bo}^ so willful as he 
 was about that. If she even asked 
 jiim to do a thino- that was for his 
 own good, he was very likely not 
 to do it. I think he had much 
 more regard for George Pell, who 
 was the leader of our sports, than he 
 
MIND YOUR MOTHER. 18 
 
 had for \m mother. Why, she 
 miglit as well have talked to the 
 bricks in the walk as to have asked 
 him to do an errand. He always 
 acted as if he felt, " T don't care for 
 my mother." When I saw just 
 what kind of a boy he was I gave 
 np going with him. I could not 
 bear to play with him, or sit beside 
 him in class. 
 
 Well, Dick is dead too. As he 
 grew up he would go out at nights 
 with bad boys, and he soon learned 
 
14 MIND YOUR MOTHER. 
 
 to drink and swear, and before he 
 was twenty-one he was found dead 
 in the gutter. 
 
 Sam was worse, if anything, than 
 the other two boys. He not only 
 cared nothing for what his mother 
 said, but he used to make sport of 
 her before the other boys. And 
 wliat do you think became of liim ? 
 His end was worse than that of 
 Dick or Bill. He was sent to State- 
 prison for a very bad crime and 
 died there. I can't bear to think 
 
MIND YOUR MOTHER. 15 
 
 of it. I can't bear to speak of it. 
 I do not like to tell such bad 
 stories. I have only told these to 
 show how it goes with wicked boys, 
 and to warn you not to do as they 
 have done. 
 
 I have seen one thing about all 
 such boys. The}^ seldom live long. 
 But those who obev and honor their 
 
 ft/ 
 
 parents, have the promise that their 
 days shall be long in the land. I 
 do not suppose this is always so, for 
 some very good boys and girls die 
 
IG MIND YOUR MOTHER. 
 
 3'oiing, and go home to that better 
 land where they are much more 
 happy than they can be here." 
 
 I was thinking of one Httle boy 
 the other day tliat used to be so 
 good to his mother. Ilis name was 
 Fred. I do behove he loved his 
 mother better tlian anj^thing or any 
 body else in the world. She was 
 sick a great part of the time, and 
 Fred liked, to stay by her, watcli 
 over and care for her. It was 
 not much of the time that she 
 
MIND YOUR MOTHER. 17 
 
 was so sick as to keep her bed. 
 She was up and about the house, 
 and did much of the work. Slie was 
 not able to keep a girl, and her little 
 Tot, Fred's sister, was only six years 
 old when they came to live in our 
 plape. Thenther.e was the baby. 
 Tpt was just the right size to rock 
 him to sleepj or to play with him. 
 
 But when thjB jaaby was cross 
 Fred took care of her. lie would 
 take her out of doors and draw 
 her in his cart; ]iQ woi^ld pi^ll 
 
18 MIND YOUR MOTHER. 
 
 tlie big dog Ned to play with her; 
 lie would show her the slieep, and 
 the calves, and the hens, and when 
 she was tired he would rock her to 
 sleep in the big arm-chair. Then he 
 would go and bring in wood and 
 water for his mother ; if it ^\\as meal- 
 time he would set the table, and 
 after the meal he would clear it 
 awa\% and wash up and put awa}" 
 tlie dishes. We boys all thought 
 that very odd. I don't think there 
 was one in ten of us that would 
 
MIND YOUR MOTHER. 19 
 
 liave done it at our homes. And 
 the first day he came to school some 
 ol" the boys got round him at noon- 
 time and called him gal-hoy, and 
 asked him if he could play ball as 
 well as he could wash dishes. 
 
 You should have seen him pick 
 up the ball-club then. " Yes," said 
 he, "I can play ball with the best of 
 you." AYe did not tease him any 
 more then. We saw that he had a 
 high spirit, and we began to think 
 well of him. After a few days we 
 
20 MIND YOUR MOTHER. 
 
 found that he was as smart as any 
 of us in play, or in study, or any- 
 thing that was good. He never 
 would take any part in our bad 
 tricks : and when some of the boj^s 
 tried to shame him, and told Iffm }jp 
 was afraid, he said j^es, Iiq was 
 afraid to do anything th^t was 
 wrong, and tl^ey rarely tripd liiii^ 
 again. 
 
 Whe^i liis sisters grew up lie did 
 not i^ave so much to do in the houge, 
 but Up Wiis jus|; as ki^d l:p {li^ 
 
MIND YOUR MOTHER. 21 
 
 motlier as ever. I know one night, 
 when he was as much as sixteen, he 
 would not go to skate with ns be- 
 cause his father was away from 
 home, and he would not leave his 
 mother alone. Dick Holt and I 
 went over to ask her if he could not 
 go, and she said, "0 yes," and 
 tried to get him to go, but he would 
 not stir a step. He came to the 
 door with us, and the air was so 
 clear and the moon so bright that I 
 could not help asking liim once again, 
 
22 MIND YOUR MOTHER. 
 
 and I told over some of the bo3"s that 
 were to be there. 
 
 "Jim," said he, "I care more for 
 ni}^ mother than for all the boys in 
 town, and I'd give more for one 
 such look from her cyQS as she gave 
 me to-night, when I said I'd stay 
 by her, than I would for a whole 
 day on the skates." 
 
 When he got to be a man his 
 'ather died, and he had his mother 
 xive with him, and he taught his 
 children to love her just as he had 
 
MIND YOUR MOTHER. 
 
 23 
 
 loved her, and to love their own 
 mother too. 
 
 And I thought of it all the other 
 day when I met Mr. Post, for that 
 is his name, with a grandchild on 
 each side of him. He is an old man 
 now, and his hair is white; but it is 
 like a crown of glory to liim. Mr. 
 Post ? Yes, Mr. Post, the dear old 
 man that you love so much. He is 
 the very Fred of my story. All 
 who know him love him. The rich 
 respect him. The poor bless liim. 
 
24 MIND YOUR MOTHER. 
 
 Children run to meet him, and the 
 very birds of the air seem to sing a 
 sweeter song when he passes by. 
 
 A long, a happy, and useful life 
 he has led, and now he stands close 
 by the gate of heaven, waiting till 
 till the angel of death shall call him 
 awa}^ to meet his mother in that 
 bright world to which she has gone 
 before him. 
 
 THE END. 
 
L