^•»1I»^^**-TW/, •..;**- '"^ '•dlf^'.'^Vf'T^ ^''C^Ci^hi 90 ••^''Ti':»^' i ^/ //,'- ; .•/. /^' y.. ) \,*'^'i t^'^i Ai^i^Y AND fjis Dog. BY MARY RUSSELL MITFORD. "Beg, Frisk, beg!" said little Harry, as he sat on an in- vei^ed basket, at his grandmother's door, eating with great satisfaction a porringer of bread and milk. His little sister Annie, who had already dispatched her breakfast, sat on the ground opposite to him, now twisting her flowers into gar- lands, and now throwing them away, "Beg, Frisk, beg!" repeated Harry, holding a bit of bread just out of the dog's reach; and the obedient Frisk squatted himself on his hind legs, and held up his fore paws, waiting for Master Harry to give him the tempting morsel. The little boy and the little dog were great friends. Frisk loved him dearly, much better than he did any one else; per- haps because he recollected that Harry was his earliest and firmest friend during a time of great trouble. Poor Frisk had come as a stray dog to Milton, the place where Harry lived. If he could have told his own story, it would probably have been a very pitiful one, of kicks and cuffs, of hunger and foul weather. Certain it is, he made his appearance at the very door where Harry was now sitting, in miserable plight, wet, dirty, and half-starved; and that there he met Harry, who took a fancy to him, and Harry's grandmother, who drove him off with a broom. Harry at length obtained permission for the little dog to re- main as a sort of out-door pensioner, and fed him with stray bones and cold potatoes, and such things as he could get for him. He also provided him with a little basket to sleep in, the very same which, turned up afterward, served Harry for a seat. After a while, having proved his good qualities by barking away a set of pilferers, who were making an attack on the great pear-tree, he was admitted into the house, and became one of its most vigilant and valued inmates. He could fetch or carry either by land or water; would pick up a thimble or a ball of cotton, if little Annie should happen to drop them; or take Harry's dinner to school for him with perfect honesty, 3 34 CHILDREN'S HOUR. "Beg, Frisk, beg!" said Harry, and gave him, after long waiting, the expected morsel. Frisk was satisfied, but Harry was not. The little boy, though a good-humored fellow in the main, had turns of naughtiness, which were apt to last him all day, and this promised to prove one of his worst. It was a holiday, and in the afternoon his cousins, Jane and William, were to come and see him and Annie, and the pears were to be gathered, and the children were to have a treat. Harry, in his impatience, thought the morning would never be over. He played such pranks, buffeting Frisk, cutting the curls off' Annie's doll, and finally breaking his grandmother's spectacles, that before his visitors arrived, indeed, almost imme- diately after dinner, he contrived to be sent to bed in disgrace. Poor Harry! thei'e he lay, rolling and kicking, while Jane, and William, and Annie, were busy about the fine, mellow Windsor pears. William was up in the tree, gathering and shaking, Annie and Jane catching them in their aprons and picking them up from the ground; now piling them in baskets, and now eating the nicest and ripest, while Frisk was barking gayly among them, as if he were catching Windsor pears too. Poor Harry! He could hear all this glee and merriment, through the open window, as he lay in bed. The storm of passion having subsided, there he lay weeping and disconso- late, a gi'ievous^ sob bursting forth every now and then, as he heard the loud peals of childish laughter, and as he thought how he should have laughed, and how happy he should have been, had he not forfeited all this pleasure by his own bad conduct. He wondered if Annie would not be so good-natured as to bring him a pear. All on a sudden he heard a little foot on the stair, pit-a-pat, and he thought she was coming. Pit-a-pat came the foot, nearer and nearer, and at last a small head peeped, half-afraid, through the half-open door. But it was not Annie's head; it was Frisk's — poor Frisk, whom Harry had been teasing and tormenting all the morning, and who came into the room wagging his tail, with a great pear in his mouth, and, jumping up on the bed, he laid it in the little boy's hand. Is not Frisk a fine, grateful fellow? and does he not deserve a share of Harry's breakfast, whether he begs for it or not? THE CLEVER PHYSICIAN. 35 And little Harry will remember that kindness will always be rewarded, and that ill-nature and bad temper arc connected with nothing but pain and disgrace. She (slbvei^ Physician. There was once a little boy who had every thing his heart could desire — a large house, a beautiful garden, a pony, and a dog, and many playthings. He had an indulgent mother and two nurses, and they all tried to please him. If he asked for sweetmeats, they were given to him; if he wished for coffee and cake for breakfast, instead of bread and milk, he had them. In winter he did not walk out when it was cold, nor in the summer when it was too hot; and yet in an evening he would look as tired as if he had worked all day. When he was twelve years old his mother grew alarmed, for every day he seemed to have a new form of illness. She took him to the best doctors, but the medicines were of no use, for he threw them in the corner as he had his lesson-books and his slate. At length his mother took him to a very clever physician in a neighboring town. The physician quickly found out what ailed the little boy, and he promised to send a prescription that would cure him. The ncKt morning this letter came: "Dear Sir: — You have two poisonous serpents within you that are consuming your vital powers daily and hourly. I can- not cure you unless you come and live an hour's distance from my house. Every morning, before breakfast, you must walk to my house, and then I will give you a powder which, with a lotion in the afternoon, will kill the serpents. But the powder will be of no avail unless you go to school two hours after it; and the lotion will require a long walk before taking it. If you do not take my medicine, you will not hear the birds sing next spring." The mother of the little boy and the nurses were very angry, but the physician said that if they would not follow the pre- scription they might go to another doctor. Then the mother took her little boy to some lodgings an hour's distance from the physician's house. The first morning the little fellow could scarcely creep along. 36 CHILDREN'S HOUR. The mother and the two nurses drove in a carriage behind him, to pick him up if he should grow too tired. "The cruel physician!" said the nurses. The next morning the boy was very tired; but the third and fourth days he could not help listening to the cuckoo, and thinking the air was sweet and balmy; and the fifth day he even relished the bread and milk in which the powder was mixed. Thus for six weeks he walked and went to school every day; his cheeks grew rosy and his eyes bright, and he no longer pushed his bread and milk away, and he slept soundly all through the night. She was going to take him home, but the physician said: "The serpents may be killed, but they may have left 3'oung ones. Unless you give him bread and milk for breakfast, and send him to school, and give him no sweetmeats, they will grow within him and kill him." The mother gave the physician a large fee and took her little boy home. But when he was grown up, and had become a tall, strong man, he called on the physician to thank him for his prescription, for he had learned the names of the two ser- l^ents. They were Laziness and Greediness. "In CQOJPHBI^'S HiiAGB." The following simple anecdote, which we find in a recent periodical, has a lesson for the whole family, but only tired mothers can know all of its meaning: • " If you want to go and see granny, mother dear, you start off by the first train to-morrow morning," said Ted. " I have a holiday, and I'll stay at home and take care of baby and the house." "Could you manage?" asked his mother, doubtingly. "Manage? Yes, splendidly; why, there's nothing to do!" Ted's mother smiled, but she accepted her boy's kind oflfer, and started off early the following morning. "Now, I'm in mother's place," said Ted to himself "I shall soon get all the work done; why, there's baby awake already!" Yes, Master Baby was awake, and insisted upon being taken up and dressed at once. When that performance was over he DIDN'T /, DANf 37 screamed with indignation because his breakfast was not ready for him. "Ah, I remember," said Ted; "mother told me she always had his bread and milk waiting for him. It seems to me there's a lot of things to remember about a house and a baby." A great number of things poor Ted found to attend to. The beds to make, the rooms to sweep and dust, the fire to tend, the meals to prepare, and Master Baby to amuse. "It's not so easy as I thought being in mother's place," he said to himself that night, as he listened for his mother's wel- come footstep. "Ah, there comes mother!" he cried; "and very glad I am to see her." F^B HAS NO 0)OTHEI^! Sitting in the school-room, I overheard a conversation be- tween a sister and a brother. The little boy complained of in- sults or wrongs received from another little boy. His face was flushed with anger. The sister listened awhile, and then turn- ing away, she answered, " I don't want to hear another word. Willie has no mother^ The brother's lips were silent; the re- buke came home to him, and stealing away, he muttered, " I never thought of that." He thought of his own mother, and the loneliness of "Willie" compared with his own happy lot. '^He has a mother.''^ Do we think of it when want comes to the orphan, and rude words assail him? Has the little wan- derer 710 mother to listen to his little sorrows? Speak gently to him, then. "Didn't I, Dan?" "Jimmy, have you watered my horse this morning?" "Yes, uncle, I watered him; didn't I, Dan?" he added, turn- ing to his younger brother. "Of course you did," responded Dan The gentleman looked at the boys a moment, wondering a little at Jimmy's words; then he rode away. This was Mr. Harley's first visit with his nephews, and thus far he had been pleased with their bright, intelligent faces and kind behavior. Still there was something in Jimmy's appeal to his brother that impressed him unfavorably, he could hardly 38 CHILDREN'S HOUR. tell why; but the cloud of disfavor had vanished from his mind when, two hours later, he turned his horse's head homeward. Just in the bend of the road he met his nephews, Jimmy bear- ing a gun over his shoulder. "Did your father give you permission to carry that gun?" he inquired. "Yes, sir," replied Jimmy; "didn't he, Dan?" "Of course he did," said Dan. "And of course I believe you, Jimmy, without your brother's word for it," said Mr. Harley. Jimmy's face flushed, and his bright eye fell below his uncle's gaze. Mr. Harley noticed his nephew's confusion and rode on without further comment. "This map of North America is finely executed; did you draw it, Jimmy ? " asked Mr. Hai'ley that afternoon, while look- ing over a book of drawings. "Yes, sir," replied Jimmy, with a look of conscious pride; then turning to his brother he added, "Didn't I, Dan?" Mr. Harley closed the book and laid it on the table. "Jimmy," he began, "what does this mean? To pvery ques- tion that I have asked you to-day, you have appealed to Dan to confirm your reply. Cannot your own word be trusted without an appeal to Dan?" Jimmy's face turned scarlet, and he looked as if he would like to vanish from his uncle's sight. "Not always," he murmured, looking straight down at his boots. " My dear boy, I was afraid of this," said Mr. Harley, kindly. "The boy who always speaks the truth has no need to seek confirmation from another. Do you mean to go through life always having to say, 'Didn't I, Dan?'" "No, uncle; I'm going to try to speak the truth so that peo- ple will believe me as well as Dan," said Jimmy, quite impul- sively. Mr. Harley spent the season with his nephews, and before he left he had the pleasure of hearing people say, "What's come over Jimmy Page? He never says lately, 'Didn't I, Dan?'" Mr. Harley thought it was because Jimmy was gaining con- fidence in himself. Do you, children? PLAYING STAGE-COACH. 39 fl Sad Disease. There are many very bad diseases, and some of them have very strange symptoms. Some of the sick are worse in the night, some are worse in the daytime, some are worse on par- ticular days, and some are quite sure to be ill when work drives, and when it is very important that they should be well. Zion's Herald tells of a parsonage in Vermont where little Eddie and Georgie heard their mamma say one cold Sunday morning: " I do not feel very well this morning. I have a very hard cold, and my lungs feel so bad and sore I think I shall not be able to go to church to-day. I shall be very sorry to remain at home." The two little boys heard what their mamma said, and re- mained in bed, after she went down-stairs, talking together. After a little time Georgie, the younger, appeared at the foot of the stairs and said: "Mamma, I don't feel very well to-day! And Eddie don't feel very well; need he go to church to-day? He's got the head-ache, and the neck-ache, and the back-ache, a-n-d the stomach-ache, a-n-d a-n-d leg-ache, a-n-d a-n-d" — calling to Ed- die uj^-stairs — " what else is it, Eddie?" Eddie replies: " Hand- ache!" "O yes, hand-ache; that's all! Need Eddie and I go to church to-day?" Poor children! What a dreadful thing to have all these dis- eases come on so suddenly Sunday morning! And we are afraid poor Georgie will have a touch of tongue-ache and heart- ache if he tells such stories as that. We hope none of our readers will ever have an attack of this disease. The true name of it, we believe, is Sunday-sick- ness. Watch against the first symptoms. ^LAYING SiPAGB-GOAGH. "All wanting the same place makes a great deal of trouble in this world," said mamma, thoughtfully. " Shall I tell you a little story about it — something I know is true?" "O yes, do!" chimed the children. " It is a very sad story, but I will tell it to you," she went on, •' and the next time that you are tempted to be selfish, stop and 40 CHILDREN 'S HOUR. think of it. Once, long ago, there were four children playing stage-coach, just as you have been doing now, and, just like you, they all wanted the first place. Instead of playing on a log, however, they were in the spreading branches of a wil- low-tree. " ' I want to drive,' said Lucy, getting in the driver's seat. " ' No, let me drive,' and Harry climbed up beside her. ' Let me sit there.' " But Lucy did not move. "'' Let me sit there,' repeated Harry, giving her a slight push and crowding his way on the same branch where she sat. 'You must let me drive.' "A moment more, a sudden crash, and they were on the ground. The branch had broken. " Harry was on his feet instantly, trying to raise his sister, but there was a sharp cry of pain, then she lay very still. Mother and father came running out of the house and gently lifted the little, fainting form, from which the arm hung limp and broken. There was sorrow and crying, but it was too late; nothing could turn aside the weeks of suffering and pain that must be borne before the little girl could take her place again among the other children, I think they all learned a lesson of loving unselfishness in those days, each trying who could bring the most brightness and happiness into dreary hours. I was that little girl, and I learned to appreciate little kindnesses as I had never done before. It was then that I learned something else, too — something that I want you all to remember," and mamma looked at the little group. "It is, 'Even Christ pleased not himself.' " fl ^iNTEi^ Game. A pleasant game to entertain the young people on winter evenings is simple word-building. Each child has a slate, or paper and pencil, and writes the letters as the mother gives them, for instance : " g, i, g, i, n, a, v, h, k, t, s, n." Each tries to be the first to see that it makes "Thanksgiving." Every let- ter given must be used. The one who succeeds first has the right to give the next word. Of course the words must be adapted to the capacity of the children. It not only teaches spelling, but quick thinking, and demands close attention, and if well managed the little folks will grow enthusiastic. selling the baby. 41 Selling the Baby. BY MAY HAINES. Baby is fast asleep in his cradle. Such a wee, tiny baby, only four weeks old, with a red face, pug nose, and a mouth that looks larger than all the rest of his head, when he cries. A baby that is not waked up yet, for his eyes are shut most of the time like a little kitten's. Tommy and Bobby did not think him very nice, and said: "See Lord ought to have sent a girl baby. Dot nuff boys in this house." Well, just the day be- fore, the boys were down town with Anna, and told the man at the store about their baby. "Bring him down, and I'll buy him," said the man. "I'd give a bushel of candy for a baby." A whole bushel of candy! Only think of it! They could eat candy instead of potatoes for dinner, and mamma should have lots and lots, so she wouldn't ever think about her baby again. Mamma is in the kitchen showing Anna how to can berries, and never dreams that her little boys are lifting her baby, all rolled in blankets, out of his cradle into the deep box of their little cart. * "You wift his wheels, Bobby, and I'll take his hears." Good thing the blankets are so thick! Bumpety, bumpety, bump! bumpety, bumpety, bump! Folks wonder what those two wee boys have all done up in their cart, but nobotly thinks it their business to ask. Baby opens his eyes and wonders why they rock the cradle so hard, but the harder they rock the bet- ter he likes it, so he shuts his eyes again. Bumpety, bumpety, bump! The ponies all see the boys, and are careful not to step upon them. Mamma's little boys, who were never down town alone before! "Want to sell a baby?" "Arrh!" "Well, where is your baby?" " In ee cart. Want butchel of tanny. You said so to-morzow arternoon." "Ya, ya, ya-a-a-a-a-a!" the cradle has stopped rocking, and baby is awake. 42 CHILDREN'S HOUR. "Gracious me!" cries the storeman, raising the blanket, and seeing two bright eyes wide open; "if these boys haven't got a live baby here! " "Ya, ya, ya-a-a-a-a-a!" There is a crowd in the store now, and every one is talking, and no one knows who the boys are, nor whose the baby is. "Name Bobby and Tommy," says Tommy; "wive in house at home; papa's name Chorge." Dr. L , whose office is across the street, sees the crowd, and crosses over. "What's the trouble?" "Why, here is a lost baby, and nobody knows whose; per- haps he belongs to one of your patients." Dr. L fixes his spectacles, takes the baby, and looks very wise, but does not know whose it is until he hears — "Papa, papa," and two little boys catch the doctor's coat-tails. "Why, bless me! how did you get down here, boys?" Folks are laughing now, and say: "Didn't know his own baby! Good joke on the doctor!" Bumpety, bumpety, bump! Mamma looks out of the win- dow and wonders at the crowd coming up the street. A vexed- looking man drawing a cart, two little boys and a baby crying, and a flock of boys following and shoutingMn the rear. Mamma wonders, too, what makes baby sleep so long this morning; but mamma soon finds out, for what mamma wouldn't know her own baby if she found it a thousand miles from home? Baby is large now: a laughing, jolly, little fellow, whom the boys wouldn't sell for his weight in candy. Playthings of ifhb (©hildi^bn in flPr^iGA. The girls in Africa, as elsewhere, are fond of dolls; but they like them best alive, so they take puppies for the purpose, and carry them about tied to their backs as their mothers carry babies. Some of them " play baby " with little pigs. The boys play shoot with a gun made to imitate the "white man's gun." Two pieces of cane tied together make the barrels, the stock is made of clay, and the smoke is a turf of loose cotton. In one African tribe the boys have spears made of reeds, shields, bows and arrows, with which they imitate their fathers' THE FEAST OF LIGHTS IN INDIA. 43 doings; and they make animals out of clay, while their sisters "jump the rope." Besides, the African children, like children all over the world, enjoy themselves "making believe." Thev imitate the life around them, not playing "keep house," "go visiting," or "give a party," because they see none of these things in their homes; but they pretend building a hut, making clay jars, and crushing corn to eat. ©HE Feast op InGHTS in India. There is a feast in India that the children look forward to with much pleasure. It is called Divali, or the feast of lights. Just before this festival comes on, people are very busy clean- ing house, because they say that at that time a little old god- dess, like a fairy, comes around, and goes into every house after dark to see if it is neat and clean; and she blesses all whom she finds living in the nice clean houses, and punishes all whom she finds in dirty houses. When the day comes for her visiting to begin, they light up their houses inside and outside with little oil lamps. These lamps are usually nothing more than little saucers, with bits of cotton in them for wicks. They are placed in a row, a few inches apart from each other, along the roof or over the doors of the houses. Sometimes there are three or four rows of them on one house, and they look very pretty at a distance, especially if you look down a narrow street. It seems as if the houses had suddenly turned to gold. Of course, the children enjoy having every thing lighted up; but they enjoy something else that goes along with the lighting up a great deal better, and that is fire-crackers. You would think it was Fourth of July in India, were you to be there when this festival occurs. The crackers come from China, and are just like what you get here. But besides the cannon crack- ers and the ordinary crackers, there is something the girls like to fire off", because it does not make a noise and because it is so pretty. It is a squib done up in white paper, and, after setting fire to it, they hold it out at arm's length, and beautiful stars flash out and drop from it to the ground. Three, four, or even six stars drop from one of these squibs. Besides these gunpowder amusements, there is to be had at this time a particular kind of candy that is not made by the 44 CHILDREN'S HOUR. confectioners at other times. It is made out of sugar and milk, and is very delicious to eat. It is shaped into horses, elephants, monkeys, men, temples, balls, and all sorts of fancy things; but the favorite way of making it is in the form of large coins, as big as silver dollars, with strings run through them, so that children can wear a necklace of them. And that, you see, is very handy, for the child can take a bite every now and then, whenever he chooses. What with fire-crackers, sugar necklaces, and the illumina- tions which last three nights, no wonder the children in India think the Divdli a grand good time. I think they prefer it, on the whole, to any of the other great days of the year. — Gospel in All Lands. ^HII^P AND r)OR Chirp and Hop lived in the same field. Chirp was a little cricket. Hop was a big grasshopper. They were cousins. Some people thought they looked alike. " You will never be as pretty as I am," said Chirp to Hop. "Why not?" asked Hop. " Because you will never be so black and shiny," said Chirp. "Well," said Hop, "you will never be so lovely and green as I am." Then they shook feet to show they were very good friends. Crickets and grasshoppers cannot shake hands, for they have no hands. "Cousin Chirp," said Hop one day, "let us go on a journey together." "Where shall we go?" asked Chirp. "To the hay-field, to see old Brindle." "Very well, Hop. I hear she has fine clover in the field," said Chirp. So they started. In a minute Chirp cried, "O dear! How fast you go ! " Hop looked quite cross. He called out, "Well, can't you hurry?" "No, no," said Chirp, "my legs are not so long as yours. Please go slow." " I will not," said Hop. "John will soon come to let down the bars, and take Brindle home." AT THE FIRESIDE. 45 "It is very early, dear Hop," said poor little Chirp. "John will not come until night. Please wait." But Hop was almost out of sight. Chirp could hardly hear his cross "no." Chirp jumped along as fast as he could, but he got to the field long after Hoj) got there. * , He looked through a hole, but he could not see his cousin. In a minute Brindle came to the fence. She liked Chirp, be- cause he always sung such a happy song. "Who are you looking for, my dear?" said Brindle. " For my Cousin Hop. Do you know where he is, dear Brindle?" " Yes, indeed," said Brindle. She shook her head sadly. " He hopped over my fence just as Jocko, the rooster, came along." "O my! O my!" said Chirp. "He could not get out of the rooster's way," said Brindle. " He had come across the field so fast he was out of breath." "O dear! O dear!" was all Chirp could say. "Yes," said Brindle, "he could not get out of the way, and so Jocko gobbled him up." " I guess he wished he had waited for me," said little Chirp. "It never pays to be unkind," said Binndle. "Come in and have some clover, my dear." • flip IPHE- Fir^ESIDS. At nightfall by the firelight's cheer My little Margaret sits me near, And begs me tell of things that were * When I was little just like her. Ah, little lips, you touch the spring Of sweetest sad remembering. And hearth and heart flash all aglow With ruddy tints of long ago. I at my father's fireside sit. Youngest of all who circle it, ' And beg him tell me what did he ■ When he was little just like me. 46 children's hour. Only a Boy. "I'm only a boy!" did you say? Well, yes, I'm only a boy — A boy full of mischievous play; Let me ask, Were you ever a boy? I am only a boy! What of that? I shall grow, if I live, to a man; I shall throw away tops, ball and bat. And work on a definite plan. I shall play in right earnest till then, I shall throw my heart into each game; You will find that the noblest of men In their boyhood were ever the same. I am fond of historical books. If they're writ in a nice sort of way; About Nelson and brave Captain Cook — I could ixad their adventures all day. I am only a boy, it is true; It would do you good, sir, by far, To romp about now as I do •Than to puflf at that sickly cigar. I'm a Band of Hope boy, sir; I've signed The pledge to abstain from strong drink; And there's many a man I could find Would do well to do that, sir, I think. Yes, there's many a man that I know Would do better to act in that way, Than to win himself boundless wealth, « For wealth would but lead him astray. I am only a boy, it is true. But I'm going to do what I can; And if I do that, sir, why you Will believe I shall make a good man. I shall fight for the right while I can, And my talents and time well employ; If I would be a temperance man. Why, I must be a temperance boy. WA SUING TON A T SCHO OL. 47 05ASHINGTON AT SGHOOL. BY 8. E, 8. 8. Every school-boy is familiar with the anecdote illustrating George Washington's love of truth wljen a child. Perhaps some would like to know more about him as a lad and a youth. lie was a strong, vigorous boy, fond of active exercise, excel- ling in leaping and wrestling. These sports assisted in giving him extraordinary power of endurance, which he afterwards found of great value in the hardships and exposure he had to undergo as a soldier. In those unsettled times, when war was continually talked of, it was natural that the boys should enjoy forming little regi- ments among themselves, and George proved a good leader in their drills and mimic battles; but when anger caused his com- rades to engage in a real fight, it was always he who stepped between and shamed them out of so unworthy a spirit. He was their favorite umpire, for they relied on the justice of his decision. But George's school-days ended when he was fifteen, and he could not have spent study-hours in play, for by that time we find he had made long advances toward a good education. Better even than the learning of books, he had learned to study, to think, for himself — train and watch his thoughts and acts. Washington is admired the world around, not only for his noble deeds as a general and as the ruler of a great nation, but being a perfect gentleman in manner, and strictly moral in char- acter. He did not wait until manhood to begin to lay the foun- dation for this grand reputation. There are yet preserved several small square blank-books, which, when only twelve years old, he filled, in a neat, clear hand, with carefully worked mathematical examples, copies of legal forms, and with poetical selections of a religious kind, besides quotations from a book by the good and learned Sir Matthew Hale, called " Contemplations, Moral and Divine," which his mother had been used to read to him with his daily lesson in the Bible. This work had a deep influence in im- planting in him the reverence for God, the devotion to right. 48 CHILDREN'S HOUR. and the sense of the value of time, which distinguished him through life. The rules which he laid down for his personal conduct, even at this eai'ly age, and which were also written in one of his little books, may be of interest to some of our school-boys, who are beginning to think what kind of men shall bear their names a few years from now: " Every action in company should be with some sign of re- spect to those present. " Be no flatterer. " Show not yourself glad at the misfortune of another, though he were your enemy. " Strive not with your superiors in argument, but always sub- mit your judgment to others with modesty. "When a man does all he can, though it succeeds not, blame not him that did it. " Take all admonitions thankfully, in what tithe or place soever given; but afterwards, not being culpable, take a time or place convenient to let him know it that gave them. "Wherein you reprove another be unblamable yourself, for example is more prevalent than precept. " Be not hasty to believe flying reports to the disparagement of any. "Associate yourself with men of good quality, if you esteem your own reputation; for it is better to be alone than in bad company. "When another speaks, be attentive yourself, and disturb not the audience. If any hesitate in his words, help him not, nor prompt him without being desired; interrupt him not, nor an- swer him until his speech be ended. " Be not apt to relate news if you know not the truth thereof. In discoursing of things you have heard, name not your author always. A secret discover not. " Speak not evil of the absent ones, for it is unjust. "When you speak of God, or his attributes, let it be seriously, in reverence. Honor and obey your natural parents, though they be poor. " Let your recreations be manful, not sinful. " Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celes- tial fire called conscience." choosing a kitten. Choosing a I^tipen. There were five, and they found them in the hay- Five httle kittens, stowed away So snug and warm And far from harm That, had it not been for the children's play, They'd have lived in secret to this day. Jack put the yellow one in his hat; The black one nimble, the white one fat, He claimed beside. Then Teddy cried: "I speak for this!" and "I speak for that!" (None left, you see, for the poor old cat!) Old Puss had thought herself so wise; But what can you hide from the children's eyes? "So beautiful!" said The breathless Ted, They're all asleep, and all of a size!" And they bore to the house the wondrous prize. Did mamma smile? Ah, no! she frowned; And the rest of the children gathered round, And Teddy heard The dreadful word: '"Tis very fortunate they were found — Keep one, but the others must be drowned!" Then each would choose! So down they sat; 'Twas this one first, and then 'twas that: Each making choice. With eager voice. Of the white or the gray, the slim or the fat — Just which he chanced to be looking at. Ted said, at last: "We can't spare none!" (His grammar was poor, but his tactics won.) "We'll hide them away Again in the hay! Put two in your hat and run. Jack, run! We'll save them all!" And it was done. 4 50 CHILDREN'S HOUR. flSI^ING gUBSiPIONS. An old owl lived in a hollow tree, And in her nest were owlets three; They were soft and downy, and all of a size, And they had such eyes — such great round eyes. The mother dearly loved her brood. But her habits were not very good; She stayed at home the whole day through, And at night went hooting about, "Tu whoo! "Tuwhoo!" The owlets loved the moonlight well. But if ever a speck of sunshine fell By any chance through a leafy chink, It dazzled them so and made them blink. And if in the twilight, dim and still, A voice declared 'twould whip-poor-will, They fluttered, and wondered what to do. And each one faintly squeaked, "Ah whoo! "Ah whoo!" Once in a while to her hollow house Old gray-wing bore a shuddering mouse, And the eager owlets over the prize Would open their eyes — their great round eyes. They would flap their wings at the tempting sight, Yet after all were so polite. That if the mother asked, "Tu whoo?" They would all three answer her, "Ah whoo! "Ah whoo!" Little two-year-old Grace was with her parents at church, seated in the Amen-corner, and, like all good Methodists, the brethren and sisters in the corner kneeled during prayer, her mamma with the others. Her papa, not being so reverential, chose to sit upon the bench. Grace, observing that all others around them were down, said, to the embarrassment of her papa, "I^nee' down, papa, knee' down!" TWO PENNIES. 61 CtJATGHiNG One's Selp. "When I was a boy," said an old man, "we had a school- master who had an odd wajj^of catchnig the idle boys. One day he called out to us, ' Boys, I must have closer attention to your books. The first one that sees another 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 immediately I informed the master. "'Indeed!' said he, 'how did you know he was idle?' "'I saw him,' said I. "'Yow did? And were your eyes on your book when you saw him? ' " I was caught, and I never watched for idle boys again. " If we are sufficiently watchful over our own conduct, we shall have no time to find fault with the conduct of others." ©WO l^BNNIES. It was a bright spring evening when little Polly stole softly into her father's room, with shoeless feet, and her golden hair falling lightly over her night-gown; for it was bed-time, and she had come to say " Good-night." " Father," said the little one, raising her blue eyes to his kind face, "father, may I say my prayers beside you, for mother is too ill for me to go to her to-night?" " Yes, pet," he answered, tenderly stroking the curly head. And reverently the child knelt down beside him, and repeated her evening prayer, adding at the close, with special earnest- ness, " God bless my two pennies." What can the child mean? thought her father in surprise; and when the little white-robed figure was gone, he went and asked her mother if she knew what her little daughter meant, " O yes," said the lady. " Polly has prayed that prayer every night since she put her two pennies into the plate at the last missionary meeting." Dear children, have you ever prayed to God for a blessing on the pennies you have put into the missionary box? If not, be sure you never forget to do so in the future. 62 children's hour. Baby's Fif^st Bii^iphday. BY KATE C. NELSON. 'Tis baby's first birthday. O what shall we say To this dear little boy, who's a year old to-day? Shall we kiss him, and give him some beautiful toy? Shall we greet him, and wish him a life full of joy? Shall we chide him, and tell him he's been a great care? Shall we praise his bright eyes and his soft, silky hair? Shall we laugh when he's happy, And weep when he's sad? Be proud when he's funny, And grieve when he's bad? Speak quickly, and tell me just what we should say To this dear little boy, who's a year old to-day. May his childhood be sweet as the blossoms of spring; May his boyhood be free as the birds on the wing; May his manhood be pure as this first year has been; May his whole life be noble, untarnished by sin; May God send his blessing, we earnestly pray. To this dear little boy, who's a year old to-day. Let us try so to live that in us he may see The model of all we would wish him to be; Let our looks be most gentle, our words always kind, That no thought of harshness may enter his mind; Let us ever be mindful of all that we say To this dear little boy, who's a year old to-day. Yes, we'll kiss him, and give him some beautiful toy. And we'll greet him and wish him "a life full of joy; We'll not scold him or chide him for being a care. For the love he brought with him is precious and rare We'll laugh when he's happy, And weep when he's sad; Be proud when he's funny, And grieve when he's bad. We'll do all that we can to brighten the way Of this dear little boy, who's a year old to-day. JOHNNY'S REASON. 53 "^HANGED THE I5{ULB." A bright little girl, three years old, said to her mamma one day: "If anybody calls me a nuisance again, I shall leave the room." The mother, to try her, said, "You're a nuisance." The little miss arose from her seat, and walked with dignity across the room; but when she saw she would be obliged to go alone, with no particular pleasure in prospect, she came back, sat down, and said: " I've changed the rule; whoever calls me a nuisance must leave the room." Do not a great many children "change the rule" they have once made, and thus their good intentions about early rising, hard study, obedience to parents, etc., come to naught because they are not willing to bear the self-denial they require? (ilOHNNY'S FjBASON. A circus came to town, and everybody knows how the music and the grand tent and horses set all the boys agog. Quarters and shillings are in great demand, and many a choice bit of money have the circus-riders carried away which was meant for better purposes. A little boy was s>een looking around the premises with a great deal of curiosity. "Halloo, Johnny," said a man who knew him, "going to the circus?" " No, sir," answered Johnny, " father don't like 'em." " O well, I'll give you the money to go, Johnny," said the man. " Father don't approve of them," answered Johnny. "Well, go in for once, and I'll pay for you." " No, sir," answered Johnny, " my father would give me the money if he thought 'twere best; besides, I've got twenty-five cents in my strong box — twice enough to go." "I'd go, Johnny, for once; it's wonderful the way the horses do," said the man. " Your father needn't know it." " I can't," said the boy. "Now, why?" asked the man. " 'Cause," said Johnny, twirling his bare feet in the sand, " after I've been, I couldn't look my father right in the eye, but I can now." 64 children's hour. Paii^y-Foli^. "Do I believe in fairy stories?" Darling, of course I do; ♦ In giants so tall; Asd Titania small, I believe in them all; Don't you? "Was there ever any Red Riding Hood?" O yes, without a doubt. < There are wolves to-day, To lead you astray; When they come in your way. Look out! "And was there really a Cinderella, With haughty sisters?" Why, yes, I've met w^ith her since; And, though proud ones may wince, She'll marry the Prince, I guess. - And the fairy-folk will never, no, never Refuse to help you along. If you form an alliance With first-class giants. And bid defiance To wrong. Love and Duty are real twin fairies, Beautiful, good, and true; By them we're attended; By them we're commended; I think they're just splendid — Don't you? F^OLD On. Hold on to your hand when you are about to strike, pinch„ scratch, steal, or do any disobedient or improper act. Hold on to your foot when you are on the point of kicking, running away from duty, pursuing the path of sin, shame, or crime. Hold on to your temper when you are angry, excited, or im- posed upon, or others are angry about you. A FOURTH OF JULY CELEBUATION. 55 P POUI^TH OP ^UliY ^BLBBI^ATION. It was a grand day at Mellontown, for the people had all joined in celebrating the Fourth of July. One man read the famous " Declaration of Independence;" another made a grand speech; the brass band made a great deal of noise, and the "milintary," as Sophie called the soldiers, "hurrahed" and thumped the floor with their muskets. Then they had a grand parade. Everybody said it was splendid, and even the chil- dren caught the spirit of the day. "Let us have a Fourf o' July celebration!" said Sophie. "Good!" cried Hal. "Fred and I can beat our drums, and Eva can blow her horn. That will be the band." "Yes," said Sophie, "that will be fine! And you must make the speech, too, Hal." "Who'll read the Declaration, then?" asked Hal. "Why, I will; while Marie can be the aujence." "What's that?" asked Hal. "Why, the aujence is the people, who come to hear and see." "Ah, yes! And she'll be a very pretty aujence, too! Here goes! " and Hal beat his drum with all his might. Fred did the same, while little Eva blew several loud blasts on her tin trumpet. With a piece of music in her hand Sophie read the Declaration of Independence, and this was what she said: " Of course human events made it necessary for us to be free. And we want to tell all the world so, and let everybody know what a great people we ai'c." "Hurrah! hurrah! " shouted Hal. "Now for some music!" and the way he did beat his drum! You would have thought he tried to burst it. Fred did the same, and Eva's eyes almost popped out of her head, she blew her trumpet so hard. "Stop your music, and let me read on!" cried Sophie. "I can't hear my own voice." " Music is better celebration than reading," cried Hal, and he made more noise than ever. "Stop, I say!" exclaimed Sophie, stamping~he< feet until both of her stockings slipped down to her ankles. But the drums kept on beating, and the trumpet kept on blowing. Sweet little Marie, who stood looking on* calmly, with her hands behind her back, at last said- 66 CHILDREN'S HOUR. "You all make so much noise that I mean to show my inde- pendence by leaving. Good-bye! " Away she went, and that broke up the Fourth of July cele- bration. CQamma's Baddish Boy. Cutting steamships on the chair, Cutting off the dolly's hair, Cutting papers on the stair, Cutting capers everywhere — That's Willie. Making doggies on the wall, Making mud-pies in the hall, Making horse-lines of my shawl, Making trouble for us all — That's Willie. Hammering upon the floor, Shouting till his throat is sore, Making all youth's batteries roar. All this and even more — That's Willie. Soiling all his finest clothes. Stubbing out his French kid toes. Dirty cheeks and dirty nose. Caring little how he goes — That's WiUie. Ah! my heart is sore and sad, Thinking of my naughty lad. Other mammas never had, Never had a boy so bad As Willie. But when cuddled down to sleep, And his arms around me creep, Asking God his soul to keep, Then in tender love I weep. Then I know I hold too cheap My precious Willie. the story of the doll that spoke. 57 6hb Stoi^y op the Doll thaii Spoils. In one of the fairest provinces of the East there lived a mer- chant. He had a lovely wife and a beautiful daughter. The wife was suddenly taken ill, and the doctor told her that she must die. She called her little daughter to her bedside, and said: " Vasilissa, I am going away. I give you my blessing; may it protect you in the hour of evil. With my blessing I leave you this doll. Keep it always with you, and never let any one see it. It is a wonderful doll. It can speak. Whenever any misfortune comes upon you, give it food to eat, and ask its ad- vice. When it has fed it will tell you how to escape from mis- fortune, and will help you to perform any service you may need." Then the poor woman kissed her little girl, and died. In time the merchant married a widow who had daughters of her own, and the woman and her daughters began to treat Vasilissa very ill. Now Vasilissa was the prettiest girl in the province, and many young men of noble birth and character came to seek her hand. But the envious step-mother said: "Vasilissa shall never marry until I have married my own daughters. They are older than she, and it is not fitting that the youngest should marry first." Then she set Vasilissa to do the work in the garden and kitchen, hoping she would become tanned by the sun and wind, and would lose her queenly grace by drudgery. But whenever she was left alone, Vasilissa would take the beautiful doll from her pocket, and say, "Little dolly, feed! Help me in my need!" Then the doll would eat and comfort Vasilissa, and perform for her all the work she had been set to do. She would weed the garden while Vasilissa sat in the cool shade of the trees; she would wash the dishes while Vasilissa listened to the birds that came to sing to her in the rose bushes by the lattice. One summer the merchant must needs 2:0 to foreisrn lands. 58 CHILDREN'S HOUR. He removed his family to a summer-house in a great forest, and' left them there. Here, as elsewhere, Vasilissa was set to do the hard work; but the doll helped her, and she always looked like a beautiful lady, and not like a slave. Now, in the forest, not far from where the merchant's family lived, there was a lonely hut, and in it lived a very wicked old woman, whom all persons shunned and feared. It was said that many people who had gone to visit her from time to time were never seen again, nor did any searching of the foresters reveal what had become of them. The jealous step-mother ordered Vasilissa several times to go to the hut of the wicked old woman and borrow things of which there was need in the kitchen. But Vasilissa did nothing without consulting the doll. And as often as she said, "Feed, dolly, feed! Help me in my need!" and asked if she should go to the hut of the old woman to bor- row, the doll replied, " Do not go; the woman is a Baba Yaga! " Now, a Baba Yaga means a scolding old woman, a fault- finder; but it was also applied to dangei'ous people who are suspected of destroying life. Autumn came. The leaves turned crimson, gold, and russet,, and the wind rustled mournfully among them at evening, and the forests began to lose their bird songs, and to be dreary and lone. The weather grew cold, and the evenings long. One day the fire went out in the house towards evening. " Never mind," said the merchant's wife, " we have still a lighted candle, and before that burns down we will rekindle the fire.': She set her daughters and step-daughter to work — one of them to making lace, one to knitting socks, and Vasilissa to weaving. Then she fell asleep in her chair. At last the candle needed snuffing, and one of the girls took the snuffers, and, thinking to do the work thoroughly, snuffed out the candle. The meixhant's wife awoke. "What have you done?" said she. " Snuffed out the light," said one of the girls. THE STORY OF THE DOLL THAT SPOKE. 69 '' What are we to do?" said she. " We have no light nor fire. We must send to the Baba Yaga for a light." "My pins give me light enough," said the lace-maker. "Let Vasilissa go." "My knitting-needles give me light enough," said the other daughter. " Let Vasilissa go." "Vasilissa," said the mother, "go to the Baba Yaga's and borrow a light." Vasilissa went to her room in the dark and gave the doll some food. "Feed, dolly, feed! Help me in my need!" Then the doll said, "Go to the Baba Yaga's; I will protect you." Out into the cold, under the light of the round moon, went Vasilissa to the Baba Yaga's. The way was long and dreary; but at last she saw under the branches of some tall trees the light in the hut of the Baba Yaga. She went to the door and knocked. "Faugh! faugh! who is there?" " It is I, granny. My step-mother has sent me to borrow a light." " I know her well. Come in." She went in and found the Baba Yaga sifting poppy-seed through her fingers, clearing it from dirt, grain by grain. "It is slow work, granny," said Vasilissa. "It must take a long time to sift a measure full. If you will get me a, light I will help you." The old woman went into another room as if for a light and a lantern. Then Vasilissa said, "Feed, dolly, feed! Help me in my need!" And she gave the doll a bit of cake, and in a twinkling all the poppy-seed was sifted and changed from one measure to the other. Presently the Baba Yaga said, " Little maiden, come here and , see what you will see." 60 CHILDREN'S HOUR. Then the doll said, " Stay where you are." "No, granny, come here; I have sifted the seed.'* The Baba Yaga came back, looking very fierce. "How did you sift the seed so quickly?" " I do all my work quickly." "How?" " My mother's blessing assists me." "Have you been blessed?" "Yes; my mother blessed me, when dying, in the name of God." "Then I cannot harm you. This is no place for blessed people. Here is a lantern; go, go, and never come here again!" As Vasilissa was returning with the light, she met the prince of the country. As soon as he saw her he fell in love with her, and took her to the royal palace and married her. She made a good queen, and one greatly beloved, because she always, in trouble, consulted the doll, which she carried in her pocket. The prince called her Vasilissa the Fair; and her life was as beautifully crowned with graces as her head with the jewels of the diadem. St. Higholas, oi^ Santa (^laus. The patron saint of boys. He is said to have been bishop of Myra, and to have died in the year 326. The young were uni- versally taught to revere him, and the popular fiction, which represents him as the bearer of presents to children on Christ- mas-eve, is well known. He is the Santa Claus (or Klaus) of the Dutch. St. Nicholas is said to have supplied three destitute maidens with marriage portions by secretly leaving money at their win- dow, and as his day occurred just before Christmas, he thus was made the purveyor of the gifts of the season to all children in Flanders and Holland, who put out their shoes or stockings in the confidence that Santa Klaus, or Kneckt Clobes, as they call him, will put in a prize for good conduct before morning. Another legend described the saint as having brought three children to life again, and this rendered him the patron of boys, especially school-boys. OUTHS' -^ DEPARTMENT. yOUNG flMEI^IGAN Gl^IT. BY W. W. BREESE. T is certainly characteristic of the " Young America " of our day to do whatever he does with all his might. Sometimes he does him- self and others a vast deal of harm by this method; but if he has only taken hold of the right thing, in the right way, he is tolerably sure of success. The great weakness of young men in this countr}' is that they do not take time enough to learn thor- oughly to do what they undertake. The fact is, they have too much confidence in the magic power of energy, or, in other words, of "Grit." Alas! that they cannot, one and all, understand that care, pains- taking, close application, hard study, are all needed to make any business or profession a success. Occasion- ally a genius may arise of such wonderful capabilities that he can accomplish what he undertakes withoGt the worry and vexation of "taking care" for any thing. But when you find one such, there are a thou- sand who learn sooner or later the necessity of heed- ing old Davy Crockett's injunction, " Be sure you're right, then go ahead!" (61) €2 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. A very valuable motto for the young men and young women of this day is to be found in these words: "Do not despise the day of Little Things! " The great Benjamin FrankHn, who stands out well as the typical "Young America" of his times, says: " Take care of the pennies, and the pounds will take care ■ of themselves!" But it is not many of our bright, capable young men or women who realize all there is in these words : "O pshaw! it's only a trifle. What is the use of minding such Httle things?" Trifles make up the greater portion of this life, and the caring for trifles, or despising them, makes all the difference between success and failure, the greater degree in each case depending upon the complete- ness of regard or disregard on the part of the per- son. Therefore, as a fundamental trait in the success- ful life, we bid you cultivate a habit of close observation in all the details of life. A good story is told of a great Eastern Prince, who was marching victoriously home, and in crossing the river Euphrates he discovered the true Philosopher's Stone. One of the iron shoes, worn by an elephant, w^as turned into gold! . He immediately stopped his army, dug a canal, turned the river out of its natural channel, and began his search. Each soldier was pro- vided with an iron tool, and commanded to touch each stone he picked up in the river-bed to this iron, and then, if it did not turn to gold, to throw it behind him. Day after day the search continued, until one of the sol- diers found the stone. But alas! so mechanical was his labor, that he had not noticed his shovel turning into gold until he had flung the stone behind him, and no amount of search ever revealed the spot where it fell. YOUNG AMERICAN GRIT. 68 " Tall oaks from little acorns grow," and a little op- portunity often comes to a man, which, if he have the good sense to use it, will make his fortune. A. T. Stewart, the greatest of America's merchant princes, lent* a small shop-keeper some money; but the man got sick of his business, and to save what was already invested, Stewart took the business out of the man's hands, who was only too glad to get rid of it thus. This was the beginning of Stewart's remarkable ca- reer as a merchant. This also well illustrates the maxim, " There's a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to victory." One of the grand secrets of success in life is em- bodied in a firm resolution to keep your promise. But this is one of the weakest points in American charac- ter. Do you want to so live that you may, " Departing, leave behind you Footprints on the sands of time?" Then we charge you fix this as an undying principle in your heart, and never allow yourself to swerve from it. How many people there are who make a promise, sign their names, perhaps to a subscription, charitable or otherwise, and then deliberately repudi- ate their obligation without the shadow of an excuse, or with one so flimsy that they shame the devil in offering it! Let us consider another matter, about which the youth of our land are often much wiser than their elders. It is not best for all young men to go through college. Some are spoiled by the study of books, who would have been finely educated had they been put to business; for there is an educational power in 64 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. business, as conducted nowadays, that is perfectly wonderful, and by no means to be despised. Many, seeing this fact, discredit the value of literary training, and account it a waste of time for a young man to spend three or four years at college. This, however, is a great mistake, and if carried to its full results, would do immense harm to future society. Let young men go to college. All who have a thirst for letters should be sent, where parents are able to do so; and where they are not, the young men would do well to go in debt for the sake of the advantages of college life and training, and pay for it after graduation. But there is really no need for any young man, worthy to be intrusted with a liberal education, to go in debt. There is plenty of paying work waiting for every young man, and woman, too, in our land, by which, with patience, an education can be earned as he goes along. There are thousands of our leading American citizens who paid their own way through college by hard v^ork during vacations, and who never received a dollar from friends to aid them. Most of these made their money by traveling as canvassing agents for some useful article or other. It requires very Httle capital, develops self-reliance, furnishes an educated knowledge of human nature, and in itself becomes an education of as great use as a knowledge of books gained in college. In closing this article, we can do no better than rec- ommend to you the maxims of the greatest banker the world has ever known; and although not an Amer- ican, he exempHfies all the noble traits of character which we fain would see ingrafted into the lives of our young fellow-countrymen. Baron Rothschild had NOT ABOVE WORK. 65 the following maxims framed and hung up in his bank- ing-house: Attend carefully to the details of your business. Be prompt in all things. Consider well, then decide positively. Dare to do right. Fear to do wrong. Endure trials patiently. Fight life's battles bravely, manfully. Go not into the society of the vicious. Hold integrity sacred. Injure not another's reputation or business. Join hands only with the virtuous. Keep your mind from evil thoughts. Lie not for any consideration. Make few acquaintances. Never try to appear what you are not. Observe good manners. Pay your debts promptly. Question not the veracity of a friend. Respect the counsel of your parents. Sacrifice money rather than principle. Touch not, taste not, handle not intoxicating drinks. Use your leisure time for improvement. Venture not upon the threshold of wrong. Watch carefully over your passions. Extend to every one a kindly salutation. • Yield not to discouragements. Zealously labor for the right. Success is yours. Uom fiBOYB ^OI^I^. " Never be ashamed of your business," is a wholesome prov- erb. If one has an honest business, he need not feel ashamed of it. Some young persons act as if they thought many kinds of honest toil menial and degrading. But they are wrong. "Man hath his daily work of body and njind Appointed, which declares his dignity." When the service is for the good of man or the glory of God, 5 66 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. and is performed in the right spirit, it must ever be ennobling. It is the work 'we do in an unwilHng, slavish spirit, that de- grades us. Toil is manly, even if it be that of a boot-black, " If I were a boot-black," said a noble Christian man, " I would strive to be the best boot-black in the world." The lad who determines to do his best every-where, in every place, however lowly, where honest work is needed, will soonest rise to honor. "If little labor, little are our gains: Man's fortunes are according to his pains." Not long since a young man was asked to carry a small pack- age of written paper to his sick relative, but he turned up his nose with the answer, "No you don't, now; send it by an ex- pressman." One evening, near the hour for closing a store in Philadel- phia, a bundle of prints was ordered in haste by a house not' more than a block distant. The carts and porters had gone. The merchant requested one of his young men to deliver the bundle, but as he did so he perceived a look of disgust in the clerk's face, and without saying another word he turned to his desk, put on his hat, picked up the bundle, and walked off to deliver it himself, leaving his proud clerk dumb with mortifica- tion as well as with fear of losing a good position. There are some city-bred boys who act as if they were " above carrying a market-basket home." Even when mother is bear- ing a heavy load for their sakes, they think it " degrading " to be seen doing such service. They soon get too big to wait on themselves. They grow up to be of less use in the world than butterflies. She Impoi^jfangb of QJbll-spentp yoUTH. ^ As the beauty of summer, the fruitfulness of autumn, and the support of winter, depend upon spring; so the happiness, wis- dom, and piety of middle-life and old age depend upon youth. Youth is the seed-time of life. If the farmer does not plow his land, and commit the precious seed to the ground in spring, it will be too late afterward; so if we, while young, neglect to cultivate our hearts and minds by not sowing the seeds of knowledge and virtue, our future lives will be ignorant, vicious, and wretched. "The sluggard will BOYS, MEAD AND HEED THIS. 67 not plow by reason of the cold; he, therefore, shall beg in har- vest, and have nothing." The soil of the human heart is naturally barren of every thing good, though prolific of evil. If corn, flowers, or trees, be not planted, and carefully cultivated, nettles and brambles will spring up; and the mind, if not cultivated and stored with use- ful knowledge, will become a barren desert or a thorny wilder- ness. As the spring is the most important part of the year, so is youth the most important period of life. Surely, God has a claim to our first and principal attention, and religion demands the morning of our days, and the first season, the spring of our lives: before we are encumbered by cares, distressed by afflic- tions, or engaged in business, it becomes us to resign our souls to God. Perhaps you may live for many years; then you will be happy in possessing knowledge and piety, and be enabled to do good to others. But if, just as youth is showing its buds and blos- soms, the flower should be snapped from its stalk by the rude hand of death, O how important that it shoul'd be transplanted from earth to flourish forever at the foot of the tree of life, and beside the waters of the river of life in heaven! Boys, FJbad and F^bbd ©his. Many people seem to forget that character grows; that it is not something to put on ready-made with womanhood or manhood; but day by day, here a little and there a little, grows with the growth, and strengthens with the strength, until, good or bad, it becomes almost a coat of mail. Look at a man of business- prompt, reliable, conscientious, yet clear-headed and energetic. When do you suppose he developed all those admirable quali- ties? When he was a boy? Let us see how a boy of ten years gets up in the morning, works, plays, studies, and we will tell you just w^hat kind of a man he will make. The boy that is too late at breakfast, late at school, stands a poor chance to be a prompt man. The boy who neglects his duties, be they ever so small, and then excuses himself by saying, "I forgot! I didn't think!" will never be a reliable man; and the boy who finds pleasure in the sufferings of weaker things will never be a noble, generous, kind man — a gentleman. 68 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. lilPB CQEANS r^AI^D ^OI^I^. BY ROBERT COLLIER. Remember that with health and strength to back you, hfe means hard work; and hard, work on long lines, with native ability and good conduct, means success. I will venture to say that this, as a rule, we can trust is always the story of the young man who begins life with no advantage of position or patronage, and makes his way to a good place. He gives his heart to what he has to do — not half the time, but all the time; not grudg- ing, but gladly; and not merely for the sake of a salary, but be- cause he loves to be at it, and makes the work in good measure its own reward. It shall come to pass, if you take hold like this, that men will say you have a genius for what you take in hand. But you well know that one of the fine qualities in a genius for any thing is an absorbing love for it, and the power of intense application, by which every other power is set to its finest edge, and directed to the one great purpose the man holds in his heart and "brain. You may set this truth in whatever light you will — of business, or work on the common levels, or work on the loftiest heights — to give your heart to it is one of the grandest secrets of success. It might seem to you that a great many men go from the bottom to the top of the ladder at one jump. It is not true. It is never true. And all the men I know who have made a real success of their lives are hard climbers. If I Only I^ad (sapital. "If I only had capital," we heard a young man say, as he puffed away at a ten-cent cigar, " I would do something." "If I only had capital," said another, as he walked away from a dram-shop, where he had _pist paid ten cents for a drink, " I would go into business." * The same remark might have been heard from the young man loafing on the street-corner. Young man with a cigar, you are smoking away your capital. You from the dram-shop are drinking yours, and destroying your body at the same time; and you upon the street-corner are wasting yours in idleness, .and forming bad habits. Dimes make dollars. Time is money. PERFECT IN LITTLE THINGS. 69 Do not wait for a fortune to begin with. If you had ten thou- sand dollars a year, and spent it all, you would he poor still. Our men of power and influence did not start with fortunes. You, too, can make your mark, if you will. But you must stop spending your money for what you do not need, and cease squandering your time in idleness. ^BI^PBGT IN LlITTLB ©KINGS. Doubtless many boys are tired of the story about the boy who began life with twenty-five cents, and who, by forming the habit of attending to details, grew up to be a rich merchant. Yet, sneer as they may at the old saying, "Perfection in little things means success in great things," yet its truthfulness is at- tested by scores of facts. The following curious little incident shows that carrying one's conscience into the little things^ of every-day work may sometimes turn accidents into helps: Two years ago, a young man living in a Vermont village, having finished his academical education, was ready to enter college. But just before the day appointed for his examination he was taken ill. After several weeks of suffering he slowly recovered his health, but discovered that his mind had lost the knowledge acquired by six years of hard study. Latin, Greek, and Mathematics, all were gone, and his mind was a blank in respect to his preparatory studies. His doctor prescribed that he should rest his mind, and familiarize himself with the simple details of light work. He obeyed the advice, and found, in his old habit of doing little things carefully, the schoolmaster that brought ,back his old knowledge. Before his illness the young man, in order to earn a little money, had taken care of the village church, sweeping it out, cleaning the lamps, and doing all the work of a sexton. He now resumed this work, and by the physician's advice tried to keep his mind from puzzling itself about its loss of memory. Several weeks went by without bringing any change in his mental condition. One Sunday evening a stranger entered the church, and, as the sermon ,was a dull one, gazed carelessly around, until his attention was attracted by the lamps on the wall. He noticed 70 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. that all the wicks were so carefully trimmed that there was not an irregular flame to be seen. He wondered as to who could be the careful sexton, and happening to be in the place the fol- lowing Sunday, he again noticed the same uniform trimming of the wicks. Passing the church the next day, and seeing the door open, he walked quietly in, and saw the young sexton sweeping out the central aisle. Looking closely at the young man, the stranger asked, "Do 'you do all the work about the church?" "Yes, sir." "Do you trim the lamps?" "Yes, sir." "Why do you trim them in such a peculiar way?" " I don't know what you mean." " Why, the flames are all alike." "O! But they ought to be. You would not have them un- even, would you?" " No," answered the stranger with a smile. " But it speaks well for your carefulness. Why, I should think one of the flames would fit all the others exactly if it were superimposed on them." " ' Superimposed!' Isn't that word used in geometry?" " Certainly. If polygons, having equal sides and angles " — Before the stranger could finish his sentence the student threw down his broom, rushed frantically out of the church, ran across the street and into his house, where he astonished his mother by exclaiming, in tones of triumph, "Mother, I know that .the square of the hypothenuse of a right-angled triangle is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides!" In a moment his school knowledge had come back to him, flashed into his mind by the mention of the superimposed figures. It is more than doubtful if a long course of medical treatment would have accomplished what the stranger's word did. Nor would the young man have met the stranger had he not been in the habit of doing little things with conscientious care. Whatever you are undertaking to do, do it with all your strength. THE MOSS- COVERED BUCKET. 71 She fflOSS-GOYBI^ED BUGI^ET. BY SAMUEL WOODWORTIL How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view! The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood. And every loved spot which my infancy knew; The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it; The bridge and the rock where the cataract fell; The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it, And even the rude bucket which hung in the well! The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket. The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well. That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure; For often, at noon, when returned from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing, And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell; Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing. And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well: The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket arose from the well. How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it. As, poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips! Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it, Though filled with the nectar which Jupiter sips. And now, far removed from thy loved situation. The tear of regret will intrusively swell, As fancy reverts to my father's plantation. And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well; The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, which hangs in the well you ^AN SUGGEED. Success is not easy of attainment; yet the man who wishes success in any particular department can generally have it, if he is able and willing to give a fair equivalent for it. 72 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. ^^Y, ©I^Y fiGAIN. BY T. H. PALMEE. 'Tis a lesson you should heed, Try, try again; If at first you don't succeed. Try, try again; Then your courage should appear, For, if you will persevere. You will conquer, never fear; Try, try again. Once or twice though you should fail, Try, try again; If you would, at last, prevail, Try, try again; If we strive, 'tis no disgrace, Though we may not win the race; What should you do in the case? Try, try again. If you find your task is hard, Try, try again; Time will bring you your reward, Try, try again; All that other folks can do, Why, with patience, should not you? Only keep this rule in view: Try, try again. ©AJPIENGE. The man who knows how to wait is master of the situation. In mechanics, time is power. Time saves friction in dealing with men as with metals. There is no department of human endeavor in which patience is not power. Galileo had learned the art of patience in giving the world the telescope; Watt, in giving us the revelation of steam; and Stephenson, in launching the locomotive upon its track. Co- lumbus would never have unveiled the New World but for his patience; Luther would never have christened Protestantism PATIENCE. 73 without it, nor Washington have led America to independence. The late Rebellion met its doom when Grant sent from the field in the hottest of the fight this memorable dispatch: "Five days' fight at Spottsylvania Court-house. I propose to fight it out on this line if it takes all summer." As we would be rich in that which this world has to give, we must be patient; as wc would receive honor from our fellow- men, we must be patient; as we would have our characters en- riched and mellowed, and our dispositions tempered, we must learn the art and attain the grace of patience. The Creator has never been in a hurry. The geologist, who in the beautifully folded leaves of earth reads the story of crea- tion, from the time when the thought of God flashed forth the laws by which all things are made, sees no hint or sign of sug- gestion that Jehovah was ever in haste. In that earth-shrined story it appears with marvelous grandeur that with God " one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day." "A thousand years in his sight are but as yesterday when it is past." The greater man's patience, the more nearly does he ap- proach the image of his Maker. Patience knits the character firmly, giving it its hickory-like properties; it enables us to be unruffled in temper, unswerving in purpose, unyielding in temp- tation. It is the key that unlocks every gate in the avenues of success. Patience matures faith, gives persistency to prayer, wins the blessing of peace. It is the soul's ballast when temp- tations, trials, and vexations threaten to engulf us in sin. It keeps us from tossing with fear and anxiety, enabling us to wait initil our experiences are lulled into restful quiet; teaches us that it is the surface that rolls and trembles — the great deeps are un- moved. Patience is the great reformer of our disposition and character. It is ever at war with jealousy, envy, and pride. It gives us command of all that is best in our natures, gives time for the development of all that is true and lovely in our character. It wearies our enemies, and crowns the battle of life with eternal victory. The poplar grows from seed to maturity in a short time, and as speedily dies; while the oak, a centuiy in maturing, lives and dies at leisure. So faith that does not mature with patience is short-lived, while that which is woven and toughened by patient continuance in well-doing is eternal in its effects. Islands of 74 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. sand soon gather and are sooner washed away, while the mass- ive coral islands, whose masonry has been laid by the centuries, will outlast the continents. Steel suddenly cooled snaps at the slightest provocation, while the blade that is patiently tempered may be bent double, and will spring back as straight as an arrow. People who ai"e sanctified at a "jump" can stand no test, while those who have learned in patience to possess their souls are like the Damascus blade in the elasticity with which they fly back to God when their faith is swerved. We incline in this age of the world to pray upon the wing, ejaculating our petitions as the bird screams in her flight. We can no more offer our best prayers thus than the bird can sing its sweetest melodies in flight. We need to nestle among the branches of faith, and call patiently upon the Lord, singing, out of the fullness of our heart's love, praises unto our God. " Ye have need of patience that after ye have done the will of God ye might receive the promise." "God's delays are not denials." Be ^ATIBNIP. There is an impatience in many young people that causes them many failures in life. They are ever ready to kill the goose that lays the golden eg^. They build air-castles as high as the peak at Etna, and decorate them with all the ornaments their feverish brain can imagine. They suppose there is an easy road, a flowery path, that leads to wealth and fame, and it only remains for them to find it. They wish to be wise, but they cannot spend many years in storing their minds with knowl- edge. They desire to climb the hill of science, but they expect to find some near and easy way to its summit. They fail to find such a way, and are often ready to say, " I have not time nor money to spend." They desire a good occupation, trade, or pro- fession, and a high position in society, yet they cannot bear to spend a few years of hard mental and physical labor to obtain it. They have a kind of aspiration often excited by some self- ish motive. They have no system in their study. They never study one subject long enough to understand it. They often seem to have energy enough for awhile in one direction, but before success can crown their eflforts they have changed to something else. They have no object in view, and like the man ODD MINUTES. 75 that shoots at random, they almost invariably miss the mark. They seem to forget that life is made up of little things, and the weight of those little things we cannot conceive. "Every wise observer knows, Every watchful gazer sees, Nothing grand or beautiful grows, Save by gradual, slow degrees." Youth is too precious to spend in worrying over trifles. Life is so short that no one has any right to throw any part of it away. One's life does not belong to him alone, but to his Cre- ator and to his fellow-men; and it behooves him to make the best use of it he can. It should be the object of eveVy teacher and parent to cultivate in the youthful mind patience, and a de- termination to do well whatever he undertakes. Nearly all if not all greatness is achieved by hard, patient labor, either mental or physical. Socrates, Newton, Cicero, Napoleon, Franklin, Washington, and most all other great men of the past, were noted for their patience and resolution. In the theater of life every one should select that part to which he is adapted, and then remember " the honor consists in acting well his part." Odd CQiNLfJFBS. What is commonly called "luck" among men and boys is only a genius for using the odd minutes to advantage. Two boys were in a carpenter's shop. One determined to make himself a thorough workman, the other "didn't care," One read and studied, and got books that would help him to understand the principles of his trade. He spent his evenings at home reading. The other liked fun best. He went off with other boys to have fun. "Come," he often said to his shopmate, "leave your books; go with us. What is the use of all this reading?" " If I waste the golden moments, I shall lose what I can never make up," was the reply. While the two boys were still apprentices, an offer of two thousand dollars appeared in the newspapers for the best plan for a State-house, to be built in one of the Eastern States. The studious boy saw the advertisement, and determined to try for 76 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. it. After a careful study, he drew the plans and sent them to the committee. I suppose he did not I'eally expect to win the prize, but there is nothing like trying. It was not long before a committee of gentlemen arrived at the carpenter-shop and asked if an architect by the name of — mentioning the boy's name — lived there. "No," said the carpenter, "no architect; I have an apprentice by that name." " Let us see him," said the committee. The young man was called, and, sure enough, his plan had been accepted, and the two thousand dollars were his. The corpmittee thfen said he must put up the building; and the employer was so proud of his success that he willingly gave him his time and let him go. The 'Studious carpenter's-boy became one of the best archi- tects of our country. He made a fortune, and stands high in the esteem of everybody, while his fellow - apprentice can scarcely earn, by his daily labor, bread for himself and family. He who loses a moment of improvement loses the best be- ginning which a boy can make in it. P Day (qOO IJAIPE. Not long ago an influential man in London made the acquaint- ance of a new friend — a man singularly interesting and gifted, but as singularly unfortunate. "Unmerciful disaster" seemed to follow upon his steps. If he sought for a place, it had just been taken; if he wrote an article, some one else had preceded him with one on the same subject. He struggled honestly, bravely, vainly, until, when he met Mr. Blank, he was in the very depths of despair. The new friendship gave him a little hope. Mr. Blank liked him, be- lieved in him, hoped for him, and promised to use his influence to help him. "I'll hold out as long as I can," said the poor fellow^. "If you can get me any thing to do, I'll do it. If not- — I'll end it all I will not live to be a burden on my friends." "Nonsense I" Mr. Blank said, cheerfully. "I'll find you something to do. I'll write next week." "You will write next week.'"' said the poor fellow, piteously; THE DIFFERENCE. 77 and Mr. Blank recalled afterwards a gleam of wildness in his eyes, Mr. Blank went to work to find a place suited to the unfor- tunate man's needs; used all his influence, but, unfortunately, he did not fulfill his promise to write. He went out of town for a little visit; he was not well; half-a-dozen trifles interfered, and the week during which he had promised a letter went by with no word. On the Monday of the next week he sat dining with his friend, and chatting cheerfully, as good friends will. Suddenly there was a ring at the street-door, and presently a policeman was shown in. He had come to say that a man had committed suicide in the railway station near by, and in his pocket had been found a letter for Mr. Blank. Such a simple yet heart-breaking letter it was! ^'He knew," so he wrote, " that Mr. Blank was his best friend, and he would have helped him if any one could. But as no letter had come, he understood that this, his last hope, had failed, and the end of things here had come, and there was nothing for him but to begin again somewhere else. He did not wish to make a dis- turbance in the house of his landlady, and he had a weak long- ing to die near some friend ; so he would come to the station near Blank, who, he knew, must have tried in vain to help him, and so he would say. Thank you, and good-bye." Self-murder, yes! but who shall limit God's mercy to the poor wretch crazed with trouble? Blank felt that it was he rather who needed a forgiveness for which he hardly dared to hope. The very next day came the news that the place for which he had asked, and used his influence to obtain, was secured. If only he had written of his hopes — ^but it was one day too late! ©HE DlPPBI^ENGE. Some fifty years ago two young men began business in New York on their own account. One had served an apprentice- ship — it was the proper and descriptive word in those days — in a dry-goods house. The other had just graduated from Yale College, and was the son of a rich man, who supplied most of the capital on which the young firm ran their small dry-goods store. 78 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. Among the customers was an old peddler from Wheeling, Va., who, having become attached to the young clerk, had fol- lowed him into his own store. He was wealthy, and ran a number of peddling wagons throughout the West. But he dressed as he did when he himself drove a one-horse peddler's wagon. The partner who was fresh from a theoretical school had not yet had his unpractical ideas corrected by experience. His pride, irritated at the presence of the roughly-dressed man in the store, prompted him to remonstrate with his more courteous and sagacious partner at the degradation of having such a rough man about the store. But the protest of a foolish pride was vainly urged against the good sense of the senior, who had learned courtesy and business in the rough-and-tumble life of a hard-worked clerk. He treated the old peddler with the same attention that he paid to the best-dressed customer. The result was that he bought largely, wisely, and always paid promptly. But he gave his confidence to the "clerk," and not to the "graduate." He understood the value of experience. This incident recalls a remark once made to the writer by a journalist of experience. " What sort of work," he asked, " are those fresh from the schools in the habit of doing when employed on a daily newspaper?" "Very good, after six months' training; it takes all of that time to get the nonsense out of them. Then they are willing to learn, and their trained talents enable them to do first-class work. At fir^t, however, they know every thing, and conse- quently make many blunders." A word to the wise graduate should be sufficient. After the best school education he can secure, he is to accept experience as his best teacher! The school and experience are alike parts of education. SUI^MIKG-^OINItS. President Garfield is said to have attributed the turning-point in his career to a remarkable escape from drowning when he was a boy. He was led to believe that God had spared his life for a purpose; and what the Lord set such value upon he was determined to make valuable. THE CASH SYSTEM IN BUSINESS. 79 Si^iitE Sayings. BY JOHN PLOWMAN. It is bad beginning business without capital. It is hard marketing with empty pockets. We want a nest-egg, for hens will lay where there are eggs already. It is true you must bake with the flour you have, but if the sack is empty, it might be quite as well not to set up for a baker. Making bricks without straw is easy enough compared with making money when you have none to start with. You, young gentleman, stay as a journeyman a little longer, till you have saved a few dollars; fly when your wings have got feathers; but if you try it too soon, you will be like the young rook that broke its neck through trying to fly before it was fledged. Every minnow wants to be a whale, but it is prudent to be a little fish while you have but little water; when your pond be- comes the sea, then swell as much as you like. Trading without capital is like building a house without bricks, making a fire without sticks, burning candles without wicks: it leads men into tricks, and lands them in a fix. She dJASH System in Business. A good business man must be a practical financier. It is not necessary that he should understand all about English consols, be acquainted with the exchange markets in the great money centers of the globe, and master the principles of quadratic equations; but he should understand thoroughly the difference between profit and loss, know how to use his capital to good advantage, and see that his expenses are kept snugly within his income. A clearly defined purpose of honest money-making should be his great intent. With this object in view, and steadily pur- suing it, success will crown his efforts. The capital may be small at the commencement, but its careful expenditure, dili- gent attention to profits, and necessary economy in living and details, will cause it to grow year by year until it becomes suf- 80 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. ficient to conduct the business without the aid of credit. Just here is the important point in any business career. When a business man can manage his affairs without the help of friends or credit, it is then he becomes truly independent. He is free to buy in any market, take advantage of the rise or fall of values, and is enabled to compete successfully with com- petition in trade. The manufacturer who pays prompt cash for all his raw materials, and conducts his whole operations on that system, can make goods at less cost than the one who buys on credit. The credit manufacturer labors at a disadvantage, and can only make both ends meet on a strong rising market. It is the same way with the merchant. The one who buys for strict cash is the most sought after by the trade; his money gives him importance and position, and he commands the situ- ation. He takes advantage of all discounts, secures the best bargains, and occupies the lead in business. If he is opposed to those who buy on credit, that kind of competition is to be feared, as the advantage is all on the cash side. It is impor- tant, therefore, for every business man to reach the point where he can conduct his affairs on a cash basis. This position reached, the worst half of the conflict is over. To buy and sell for cash is the safe mode of mercantile management. This system relieves the mind of much worriment and anx- iety, enables the active prosecution of business to become a pleasure, and the man so engaged to be independent. This should be the aim of every merchant, manufacturer, and busi- ness man: a fixed, steady purpose to make money, save it w^hen made, conduct all operations on a cash basis as soon as possible, so as, in a certain sense, to defy competition, dull market, or panic tevulsions. Money is a great power in the commercial world, a sheet- anchor in business panics, and an important factor in the pur- suits of life. It should be the firm purpose of every business man to make it honestly, spend it judiciously, and thereby be- come independent The talent of turning men into ridicule, and exposing to laughter those one converses with, is the qualification of little minds and ungenerous tempers. A young man with this cast of mind cuts himself off from all manner of improvement. THE UNKNOWN ARTIST. 81 She Uni^nown flf^jpisip. John Conover is now known as one of the leading artists in a Western city, but he had a hard struggle while a lad. His mother, Mary Conover, was the widow of an Irish patriot who fell a victim to the cruel English laws which govern his native Emerald Isle. He was shot while riding along the public high way; after lingering in great agony for some days, he bade a sorrowful farewell to his young wife and baby-boy. Acting in accordance with his advice, she sold all her possessions soon after her husband's death, and moved to the New World. In New York city she found a cousin of her late husband, who kindly aided her in finding suitable lodgings, and in invest- ing her money safely, after which her independent spirit would allow her to accept nothing further. But she found, with all her energy and accomplishments — for she was well educated — that her life was a constant round of drudgery, and but for the sweet companionship of little John, would have been bitter in its hardness. First as a seamstress, then as a private tutor or governess, then again with a small school in her own house, she struggled on. Gradually she made a few influential and earnest friends, and these made it possible for her to live comfortably, though without an hour's leisure. Little John had early shown artistic skill, and as his mother had received fair instruction in the art of drawing, he was not without an early teacher. Some of Mrs. Conover's friends chided her for indulging the boy in what they considered a use- less waste of time, but others, with better judgment, encouraged her to give him all the aid she could. At last John's perseverance and his mother's faith met with great encouragement, for a young artist near Madison Square consented to give him special lessons in return for the lad's work about his studio. The artist was a man of great talent, but indolent habits, fostered largely by the circumstance of his inheriting large wealth, and having no need to labor for a living But with John's advent he was stirred into a new enthusiasm, from seeing the earnest desire of the lad to excel in his studies. For one year John drudged on with his master, while his mother dwelt in blissful anticipation of her son's future success. At the end of the year John began his first painting for the 6 82 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. public eye. It was an Irish scene, made familiar by his mother's description, and aided by her criticisms, he worked it over again and again, adding a little here, and taking out a little there, until, as his mother said, "it was true to the life!" A beautiful gilt frame was bought, the picture carefully wrapped, and the " Unknown Artist," with his mother, went to a down-town picture dealer to dispose of the precious treasure. The boy wore a pair of trousers and a cloak which his wealthy master had given him, both of which were too large for the wearer; but in their eagerness to test the final result, they for- got all but the beautiful picture. The proprietor of the store where they first applied would not take time to examine the picture. A second and a third at- tempt ended in like manner; and at last, when they came back through Madison Square, a dealer in chromos, stationery, and notions, who occupied a little room below a large hotel, con- sented to look at the picture. After a critical examination he offered t\yenty-five dollars and received the picture. It is, per- haps, needless to say, that many a poorer picture executed by John Conover has sold for moi'e than twenty-five hundred dol- lars since that eventful day. This story illustrates the fact that all unknown artists, authors, and professional men must toil for a mere pittance at first. Al- though .they may do much more careful and better work at first, when time is of small consequence, and there is plenty in which to perfect their work, and to study its details, yet the lack of reputation belittles the value in which the public holds their productions. You must therefore be patient if you would rise to honor and success, and do the best you can with what you get. It will do little good to rail at mankind as fools and sim- pletons. Many know this as well as you do, yet they are still afraid to trust their own judgment, but wait for the "bell- wether" to take the lead, when they quickly follow. I want to give you this advice: Don't try to be happy. Hap- piness is a shy nymph, and if you chase her you will never catch her. Go quietly on and do your duty, and she will come to you. When you are asked to drink, my son, and have half a mind to accept the invitation, remember this: If you had a whole mind you wouldn't. RUDDERLESS. 88 I^UDDBI^LBSS. Mr. F , a passenger on one of our ocean steamers lately, found an old college friend in the captain, and they passed some of their leisure time in discussing their former classmates and their fate. " I never could understand," said Mr. F , one day, " why Will Pettit did not succeed. He left college equipped with every qualification for the struggle of life. He had sound health, a vigorous intellect, warm affections, and a competence. " He proposed to enter the ministry, but, just before leaving college, fell in with some free-thinking fellows and gave up that idea. Then he studied law and was admitted, but after a year's practice he closed his office and went to farming. I met him now and then. He had become a skeptic, but talked little of his religious doubts. "Then he left the farm and his wife, and went to California, gold-hunting. " In 1876 I was in Idaho, and there I met Will. He had lost every thing, and supported himself by odd jobs of worlc, prin- cipally driving cattle. He was neither a drunkard nor a gam- bler, yet he had never succeeded in any thing which he under- took. He tried a new road to luck two or three times a year. " He was now almost insane in his opposition to Christianity, and talked incessantly of religion, with the vilest and most pro- fane abuse. A month or two later he died, in the same bitter humor, a rebel against God if there ever was one. It is a mys- tery to me why such a man should have made such an end." After a short silence, the captain said: " Old sailors have a superstition that there are phantom ships that traverse the sea. I saw a vessel once that explained to me how the idea originated. It was a full-rigged bark, under sail, and driving before a brisk sou'-wester. There was not a living man on board. I surmised that some virulent disease had broken out on her, and that the crew were all dead, or had de- serted her. I tried to capture her, but could not. " Several months later I passed her again. Her topmast was gone, her sails hung in rags, and the wind drove her where it would. A year after she came across our bows one stormy winter evening. She was a shattered hulk, with every plank 84 ■ YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. started; tlie waves washed her back and forth. She went down at last into the darkness and storm. " She was a good ship at first, but," he added, significantly, "she had lost her rudder!" How many young lads who read this are starting out on the one long voyage which waits for every man, well-equipped, and apparently promising, but without a rudder? 0)AN, I<;N0W ©HYSELP. The worst of it is, that the ambitious do not always consider what are the chances of their ambition proving successful. They do not wait to see whether the ladder by which they seek toclimb is planted upon firm ground; and before they are half- way up, it slips, and precij^itates them headlong. Sometimes the ladder itself is no trusty fabric, and yields to the steps of the unlucky climber. Every day presents us with melancholy instances of men who attempt a w^ork for which they are not fitted, or which they have not the means to carry out, and whose labors necessarily result in melancholy failures "Know thyself," said the Greek" sage; and doubtless he meant that we should know the measure of our faculties, the range of our powers, in order that we might undertake nothing we could not accomplish. Before we enter upon a labor that must con- sume the best part of our lives, it is essential then that we should consider how far w^e are adapted to prosecute it to a successful end, lest we should simply prepare for ourselves an old age of unavailing regret. What is wanted in our present social condition is not so much this feverish effort to rise from one class into another, as a bet- ter feeling, a more cordial understanding, between classes. It was supposed that this better feeling, this more cordial under- standing, would be arrived at as education advanced, and as the increasing prosperity of the nation improved the position of the lower orders; but, on the contrary, the gulf between the "upper" and the "lower," between the "privileged" and the " unprivileged," has deepened and widened, and I believe there exists at present a stronger antagonism than has ever before been known. How this antagonism may be neutralized or dis- sipated, it scarcely falls within my province to inquire; but I MAN, KNOW THYSELF. 85 may point out that something may be done by a stricter adher- ence on the part of the privileged to the principles on which every code of good manners is based. The upper classes have been largely re-inforced by men w^ho have raised themselves and their families to opulence; and these men have been found wanting in those habits of delicate consideration and genuine sympathy which had become traditional among the English gentry. They have treated, they still treat, the classes beneath them with supercilious arrogance, trampling on their feelings, and neglecting their susceptibilities. It would be idle to deny that this is the real cause of much of the irritation with which the working-classes now regard the doings and sayings of their superiors. A rudely arrogant speech often rankles in the mind long after an unjust action has been forgotten. A wound to a man's vanity leaves a permanent scar. I am persuaded that a good effect would be produced if "superiors" would more gen- erally behave to their "inferiors" with courtesy, addressing them as if they acknowledged their right to breathe God's air and dwell in God's sunshine — a right which some wealthy par- venus, by the insolence of their speech and conduct, seem almost to question. I believe that good manners never fail to exercise a pacific influence, and that they would do as .nuch toward bridging over the differences between classes as the nostrum of any political reformer or moral philosopher. A polite — that is, a polished — man puts his neighbor at his ease, and by so doing confirms his self-respect; and no one can be ungrateful toward the man who renders him so inestimable a service. For what greater obligation can be conferred upon us than to raise us in our own esteem, and restore that confidence in ourselves, that sense of our dignity, which, perhaps, a series of misfortunes or a long course of contumely has broken down? It is in this way that the truth may be proved of the essayist's saying: "Fine manners show themselves formidable to the uncultivated man." But the uncultivated man may, in his turn, submit to a test of his own good manners, and convince the observer that he is qualified for a higher position by not being ashamed of the one he occupies. He will preserve his independence by reflecting that the work he does is in its way a nobler and more useful work than that which is done by the creatures of fashion. With this knowledge at his heart he will maintain a manly de 86 YOUTHS' DEPABTMEI^T. meaner, not churlish or aggressive, but firm, resolved, com- posed, and self-reliant. Do you know Emerson's apologue? " The mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel; And the former called the latter 'Little Prig.' •You are doubtless very big; But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together. To make- up a year And a sphere. And I think it no disgrace To occupy my place. If I'm not so large as you, You are not so small as I, And not half so spry. I'll not deny you make A very pretty squirrel track; Talents differ, all is well and wisely put; If I cannot carry forests on my back, Neither can you crack a nut.' " This assertion by each class of its peculiar strength, and of its place in the general economy, will, if made in a moderate and patient spirit, tend to establish an amicable sentiment be- tween all classes, and promote the growth of fine manners, based on the ground of self-respect. .She FJighjf 05a y. Some years ago a well-known Boston merchant, then a new- ly-fledged junior in the house of which he is now a leading partner, was sitting at a desk surrounded by samples, with a newly-bought memorandum-book before him. He had a magnifier, and was examining the different sam- ples, carefully counting the number of threads to the inch, and duly recording the results of his investigations. "What are you up to now?" asked the senior partner, taking a seat on the corner of the desk. " I'm examining these goods, sir," answered the junior. " I want to find out all I can about this business." "Of course you do," continued the head of the house, "but A SCHOLARS ENTHUSIASM. 87 that's no way to do it. Put your glass in your pocket. You may need it some day, although it isn't likely. Burn up that memorandum-book. If you write down all you know some clerk will get it all away from you. Go among the goods, look at them, feel of them, learn to know them as I do, ask all the questions you choose, and remember what you hear, and before you know it you will be able to tell the value of a piece of goods in the dark. You can't learn this business by rule, young man. You've got to absorb it." XJoumu. 'Mid all the ills, the sorrows, cares, and strife, And dangers thick unseen by mortal eye, Rejoicing in the budding joys of life, Youth passes, as a cloud flits through the sky, And age finds many unprepared to die. How happy those who in their early days Give God their hearts — to his protection fly. And spend their lives in wisdom's pleasant ways; Yield up their breath with joy, and dwell with him on high! \ fl Sgholaf^'s €njphusiasm. The career of M. Korosi, a Hungarian, illustrates the toil, want, and hardships that assail the scholar's life, but which his enthusiasm overcomes. One day, about sixty years ago. Count Telsky, a Hungarian nobleman, was standing in front of his house, when he saw a young neighbor passing by. The thin, yellow garment in which he was clad, the staff* he carried in one hand, and the small bundle in the other, excited the count's curiosity. "Where are you going, M. Korosi?" he asked. "To Asia, in search of our kinsmen," replied the young man, walking sturdily on. Wearily, but with a will that overcame many obstacles, the enthusiastic scholar made his way to Thibet, hoping to find the central home of those Huns from whom the Hungarians are supposed to have descended. On the high, bleak table-land of that country he lived fot years, studying in Buddhist monas- 88 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. teries, discovering a vast unknown religious literature, and pro- ducing a grammar and dictionary of the Thibetan language. His enthusiasm made him defiant of the intense cold of that elevated region. He vs^ould sit day after day in a hut, at the door of a monastery, reading aloud Buddhistic works with a Lama by his side. When a page was finished the two readers would nudge each other; for it was a serious question which of them should turn over the leaf, as the momentary extension of the hand out of the long, furred sleeve exposed it to the risk of being frost-bitten. He ended his days, a victim to his devotion to study, in an Indian hut, where he sat, ate, slept, and studied, with a box of books on the four sides. He never undressed at night, and rarely went out during the day. The dream of his youth was never realized, but he was one of the first to make known to Europe the sacred books of Thibetan Buddhism. " Put money in thy purse," said lago, and hundreds echo the advice, or quote Pope's lines: "Get place and wealth; if possible, with grace; If not, by any means get wealth and place." But no money will buy the enthusiasm which this Hungarian scholar exhibited. GXPEI^IBNGE. A man might easily speculate whether there is any such emo- tion as patriotism. It is of doubtful usefulness to argue with him. "He who scrubs the head of an ass wastes his soap," said that great philosopher, the dab of fiction. Dr. Riccabocca. And equally he who reasons on a matter that is to be known only by expei'ience, wastes his reasons. SGHUBEr^ip. Schubert died at the age of thirty-two. He had been a hard worker, and Schumann said when he heard of his death, " Well, he had done enough." If you keep the door of your soul wide open, for your mother to enter when she likes, there is little fear of much sin lodging in it. side-shows. 89 Side-shows. [FROM "OUK BUSINESS B0Y8."1 One of the business men of Portland, in speaking of dangers which beset boys, writes the single word Side-shows. He did not explain his meaning, but I will tell you what I think he meant. You have all been at some show where, beside the main building in which the fair was held, there were several other buildings, or tents, covered all over the outside with flam- ing pictures of the Fat Woman, and the Living Skeleton, and the Human Midget, and an impossible boa-constrictor swallow- ing an impossible sheep, and the Albino Children, with their long white hair, and ever so many other wonders. The; admis- sion to this side-show was only ten cents, whereas you had to pay twenty-five or fifty cents to go into the fair-grounds, and so you concluded you would go into the side-show, and see the fat woman and the skeleton man, and the snake swallow the sheep. But when you got in you found that the attractions of the side-show were all on the outside: the fat woman wasn't nearly so fat, or the skeleton so thin, as they were painted, nor could the latter draw himself out in long sections, flute fashion, as the picture represented. Moreover, the Albinos were very ordinary girls with fluffy hair, and the snake was stuffed, nor could he have swallowed a sheep if he had not been. In short, the side-show wasn't what it was represented; the best part of it was on the outside, and, as you had spent ten cents, you had not enough left to pay for the entrance ticket to the fair; so you lost all that was really good, and saw nothing worth seeing after all. I think this side-show tent represents, as my correspondent indicated, a real danger in every boy's life; and other business men mentioned some of the particular side-shows which you must guard against. For instance, there is the variety theater side-show; bad reading — flash papers, magazines, and novels; the public billiard-hall; drinking saloons, horse-races, midnight dances, and the like. You can, too, make a side-show of almost any thing, even of things which are perfectly proper in them- selves. The skating-rink, the fish-pond, the marble-ring, the base-ball ground — if they take time and strength which you 90 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. ought to devote to work or study — all become dangerous side-^ shows. Every bo}' ought to know how to skate, and fish, and shoot, and play base-ball; but be sure not to make any of these things the main business of life. For remember: No boy that goes into many of the side-sho\y tents at the fair will be likely to get into the main exhibition. Bad r^ABIiPS. The boy who spends an hour each evening lounging idly on the street-corners wastes in a year three hundred and sixty-five precious hours, which if applied to study would familiarize him with the rudiments of almost any science. If in addition to wasting an hour each evening he spends ten cents for a cigar, which is usually the case, the amount thus worse than wasted would pay for ten of the leading periodicals of the country. Boys, think of these things. Think of how much money you are wasting, and for what.'' The gratification afforded by the lounge on the corner, or the cigar, is not only temporary, but positively hurtful. You cannot indulge in them without seri- ously injuring yourselves. You acquire idle and wasteful habits, which will cling to you with each succeeding year and grow on you for life. Sowing ^ild Oajps. The most magnificent specimen of young manhood that I have ever known was a young fellow-student named Henry Haines. As an athlete on the campus, as a scholar in the arena of debate^ he was facile pi'ineeps, every-where and always. We were not so much envious of him as pi-oud of him, and we fondly fancied that there could be no height of fame or fortune too difficult for his adventurous feet to climb, and that the time would come when he would fill the world with the echo of his fame, and it would be a proud thing for any. of us to declare that we had known him. A little tendency to dissipation was by some of us observed, but this was only the wild-oats sowing which was natural to youth and genius, and which we did not doubt that after-years would chasten and correct. But the years came and the years went, and the young col- legians were scattered through the world, and ever and anon would some of us wonder what had become of Henry Haines. SOWING WILD OATS. 91 We looked in vain for his rising star, and listened long for his coming feet. Some time ago, for a single Sabbath, I was preaching in New York. My theme in the morning had been, "The Ghost of Buried Opportunity." On my way to the hotel I discovered that I was shadowed by a desperate-looking wretch, whose garb, whose gait, whose battered, bloated look all unmistaka- bly betokened the spawn of slums. What could the villain want with me? I paused at my door, and faced about to con- front him. He paused, advanced, and then huskily whispered : "Henson, do you know me?'' I assured him I did not, whereupon he continued: "Do you remember Henry Haines?" "Aye, aye, well enough; but surely you are not Henry Haines?" "I am what is left of him — I am the ghost of him." I shuddered as I reached for his hands, and gazing intently into his face, discovered still some traces of my long-lost friend, still doubly lost, though found again. I put my arms about him in brotherly embrace, and drew him to my room, and drew from his lips the story of his shattered life. I begged him by the old loves and unforgotten memories of better days to go back with me to my home in Philadelphia, and under new auspices and with new surroundings to strike out for a noble destiny, which I hoped might still be possible. But, striking his clenched fist on my table, he said: "Henson, it's no use to talk to me. I'm a dead-beat, and am dead broke. I'm a burnt-out volcano, and there's nothing left of me but cinders now. I have come to New York to bury myself out of sight of all that ever loved me. I know the ropes here, and shall stay here till I rot. I live in a muskrat hole near the wharf. I shall die as I have lived, and I have lived like a dog." In vain were my earnest protests and brotherly pleading. He tore himself from me and went shambling off to his den by the wharf. He had sown the wind, and was reaping the whirlwind. He had sown to the flesh, and was reaping corruption. He had sown " wild oats," and the oats were now yielding a di'ead har- vest of woe. 92 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. UiGIOUS LXIIFEI^AIFLII^B. BY THE REV. J. T. CHRISTIAN. The practical influence of the printing-press is almost beyond bounds. Wendell Phillips earnestly said: "Let me make the newspapers of a country, and I care not who makes their re- ligion or their laws." Napoleon, in his busy, impetuous life, had time to remark: "Four hostile newspapers are more to be feared than one hundred thousand enemies." And you who so often quote Thomas JefTerson, will you listen to the most prac- tical words of his life: "I had rather live in a country with newspapers and no govei'nment than in one possessed of a government without a newspaper." The practical outgrowth in every department of arts and inventions has been very^ great, and every decade has put to blush the one preceding. The printing-press has been in the van of progress. A while ago it took ten years to print a book of six hundred pages, and no\N^ twenty thousand copies of a newspaper are printed, folded, and addressed in one hour on one press. In 1704 the Boston News Letter was the only paper on this conti- nent, and now there is printed every ten days a paper for every man, woman, and child in America; and the output of books is so enormous that figures can scarcely tell the tale. I am not now speaking against any class of literature, but merely show- ing the immense influence it must exert. A good newspaper is the right hand of authority and order; a bad newspaper is the engine of destruction and death. The average citizen reads the morning paper, eats his break- fast, smokes a cigar, and rushes headlong after the phantom of gold until the late hours of night. I call a halt! One moment, if you please! Think what you are doing, and where you are going. An hour with your family will be better than gold, and a while to meditate, read, and inwardly digest, than much silver. But for all this, there is reading going on in the city, and much of it is not of the right character. Indeed, its very want of character is our main objection against it. . It is a great and terrible wilderness full of scorpions and fiery serpents; clouds that float with the forebodings of a storm, but contain no water for the nourishment of the earth; not the rolling wave that VICIOUS LITERATURE. 93 purifies the waters, but the angry billows that wash up mire and dirt; and woe to that man whose garments are stained by it! You will notice that this form of reading-matter is character- ized by flashy and attractive pictures. These pictures are found every-where — in books and out of them. They are generally in the hands of young men, and sometimes, I am sorry to say, an old man so far forgets his gray hairs as to carry them in his pocket. The young man can plead the indiscretions of youth, but the old man deserves no compassion, and should receive none. These pictures are base in their character, and tend to destroy every good impulse of the heart. Sir, if you have such a picture, pluck it from your pocket as you would a burning coal; take the tongs, so that it will not pollute your hands, and put it in the fire, and with its fading ashes make a resolution to be a better man. There is a class of works that at first sight would seem to be harmless. It is like the serpent that strikes before it gives an alarm. I refer to certain medical works. They are freely ad- vertised in the papers, and can be had for the asking. They are full of the vilest insinuations and the most immoral pictures. They are mostly circulated among the boys, but may be found locked up in the trunks of some older people as a " Medical Adviser." A father rebels at once, and says, " My boy has no such book." I hope not. I only raise the warning cry, attend to it who will. If you need medical care, consult your physi- cian, but don't send for some low book. I have reason to know that trashy novels have an immense circulation in our cities. Somebody springs up and inquires, "What! do you condemn the reading of all novels?" I very frankly say. No. A good novel is to be read as quickly as any other good book. The imagination needs cultivating and stim- ulating as much as any other faculty of the mind. But that does not mean that you are to fill your head with rubbish and your heart with slime and pitch. Standard novels? Well, yes. More people talk about standard works than read them. You borrow a copy of Scott, dream over the few first pages, set it down as intolerably dry, and send it back, or more probably let the children tear it up. I had occasion to inquire not long since for a half-dozen " standard " works, and could not find a copy in stock, but the 94 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. trashy kinds were around me as thick as the leaves of Vallam- brosa. If you read one of these, and there is no positive harm, you have wasted your time with the sheerest nonsense, and a boy will lose his dinner reading wild Western scenes, and get his war-paint on any time in fighting the Indians. To say nothing of certain American novels, French novels are almost invariably corrupt and evil, and evil only, in their tendency. This trouble is augmented unfortunately by our fashions coming from that country, and that we Americans have an idea to be Frenchy is something amazing; well, truly, it is something amazing to God and men. We want no atlieistical French Revolutions. We want no importations that pull down the palisades of home, and destroy the family relation. A cor- rupt book has more than once caused a Sir Lancelot to fall, and, as he sorrowfully said, hell did not atone for his sin. It was honest old Thomas Carlyle who bluntly said, "Loving my own life and senses as I do, no power shall induce me, as a private individual, to open another fashionable novel." We come to speak of the newspapers. Of the better class of papers, including the dailies, although they are somewhat sensational at times, I have nothing to say. We will make a comparison of the monthly circulation of certain journals which can be relied upon as tolerably accurate. The Century, Harp- er's Monthly, and the North American Review will represent the . higher class of magazines, and they are really the only ones that have a circulation here worth mentioning, and they have a combined monthly sale of one hundred and thirteen copies. This is a manufacturing town, so the American Machinist reaches one hundred and sixty copies, and the Scientific American sixty- eight. From among a number we have selected six papers which are trashy. They are Beadle's Weekly, Family Story Paper, Saturday Night, New York Weekly, Fireside Companion, and The New York Ledger, with a combined monthly circulation of two thousand four hundred and forty-two. And represent- ing the positively corrupt and pernicious are the Police News and Gazette, with a circulation of four hundred and sixty-five. And right here we mention that it is almost impossible to find a barber's shop that has not one or both of these papers lying around. The customers demand it? All the worse for the cus- tomers. JEFFERSON'S TEN RULES. 96 . The laws of the land should suppress these papers as obscene. We believe in an unlimited supply of pure water, but we also believe that every foul pond and stagnant sewei* should be drained. But to the comparison. From these figures we learn that in our city there is bought twenty-two times more trashy, and five times more corrupt, literature than there is of good journals. Apd where one mechanical journal is bought three of the Police News and Gazette is sold, and fifteen trashy papers. To say the least, this is a poor showing, and somewhat ■damaging to our self-esteem. What about infidel books.? This is the only place we have reached solid rock, and could cry, hallelujah! I was informed that there was absolutely no sale for them. Thank God, this people are not going through that wilderness! A leading pub- lisher said, not long ago, about the only people who buy infidel works are Christian ministers who answer them. I have never seen but one copy of Tom Paine's Age of Reason in this city, and when its owner was converted he gave it to a minister. As long as this state of things continues our hope for the future is bright, and our ardent hope is that the future may be our best days. To the north of Ireland there are some dangerous rocks hid just beneath the surface of the water, and many noble ves- sels have been wrecked upon them. Along the track we have pursued this day are dangerous shoals. Many noble young men have found here their ruin. Avoid the danger, seek the truth, and find life. ^EPPEF^SON'S ©EN I^ULES. Take things always by the smooth handle. We seldom repent of having eaten too little. Nothing is troublesome that we do willingly. Pride costs more than hunger, thirst, and cold. Never spend your money before you have it. Never buy what you don't want because it is cheap. Never trouble another for what you can do yourself. Never put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day. How much pain the evils have cost us that have never hap- pened! When angry, count ten before you speak; if very angry, count a hundred. 96 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. INPLUENGE. BY T. DE WITT TALMAGE. Last Sabbath morning, at the close of the service, I saw a gold watch of the world-renowned and deeply-lamented violin- ist, Ole Bull. You remember he died last summer in his island home off the coast of Norway. That gold watch he had wound up day after day through his last illness, and then he said to his companion: "Now, I want to wind this watch as long as I can, and then, when I am gone, I want you to keep it wound up until it gets to my friend, Dr. Doremus, in New York; and then he will keep it wound up until his life is done; and then I want the watch to go to his young son, my especial favorite." The great musician who more than any other artist had made the violin speak, and sing, and weep, and laugh, and triumph — for it seemed when he drew the bow across the strings as if all earth and heaven shivered in delighted sympathy — the great musician, in a room looking off upon the sea, and surrounded by his favorite instruments of music, closed his eyes in death. While all the world was mourning at his departure, sixteen crowded steamers fell into line of funeral procession to carry his body to the mainland. There were fifty thousand of his countrymen gathered in an amphitheater of the hills waiting to hear the eulogium, and it was said when the great orator of the day with stentorian voice began to speak, the fifty thousand people on the hillsides burst into tears. O that was the close of a life that had done so much to make the world happy I But I have to tell you, young man, if you live right and die right, that was a tame scene compared with that which will greet you when from the galleries of heaven the one hundred and forty and four thousand shall accord with Christ in crying, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant." And the influences that on earth you put in motion will go down from generation to generation — the influences you wound up handed to your children, and their influences wound up handed to their children — until watch and clock are no more needed to mark the progress, because time itself shall be no longer. the vanity of riches. 97 She Uanijpy op F{i6HES. When our Successful Man was a boy, and lived in a manu- facturing village of New Hampshire, a widow's son, the great- est luxury be knew was to eat apples. So he told us the other day, when we fell into conversation about old times. " Yes," said he, " when I was ten years old I used to think that if ever I was rich enough to have as many apples as I wanted all the year round, I should be perfectly happy. And now!" He went on to say that he had one of the finest orchards, on a small scale, to be found anywhere in Massachusetts, which produced last year ninety-four barrels of apples of the best varieties yet produced. But he did not eat two apples per an- num. He could not, for while he was making his fortune he worked so hard, and confined himself so closely, as to contract a chronic weakness of digestion. With all the luxuries of the world at his command, he was obliged to live principally upon oatmeal and milk. Later in his youth, his ambition soared above apples. He was beginning to get a little more money than he absolutely needed, and was able occasionally to indulge in a ride. He then thought that if he could ever own a horse fast enough to pass every thing on the road, and take no man's dust, he should be the proudest and the happiest of" men. " Well," he continued, " I have a horse that I think is the fastest in my county; but I never drive him. I gave him to my son last summer, and for my own use I keep an old plug that jogs along six miles an hour without my troubling myself about him." At this point, our poor Successful Man wearily took out his watch to see how tirrie was getting on, and we observed that the watch was of a peculiar pattern rarely seen in this country. "This watch," said he, "is another case in point. One of my young ambitions was to possess as good a watch as mortal man could make. I have one. I gave $600 in gold for it, at a time when gold was a more expensive article than it is now. But knocking about the world in sleeping-cars and Mediterra- nean steamboats, I was always a little anxious for the safety of my watch; and besides, the possession of so costly an article 7 98 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. by a traveler is a temptation to robbers. One day in Paris I noticed in a shop-window this curious little watch, marked twenty-five francs. A five-dollar watch was a novelty, and I bought it. I deposited my six-hundred dollar timekeeper with my banker, and it has been ever since in an iron safe. I find that this little watch keeps time as well, for all the ordinary purposes of life, as the other, and have carried it ever since." The Successful Man said these things with what we mav call a good-humored despair. He made no complaint; but at the age when he ought to be in the full tide of cheerful activity, he appeared to have exhausted life. Years ago, there lived in the interior of New York a boy, the son of a farmer, who also worked at the trade of a potter. The boy was a marked youth, because he would do with might whatever he undertook. He was a leader in the ordinary sports of boyhood, and whenever the farm or the pottery relaxed their hold upon him, he would be found repairing some damaged article, or devising a new implement. His father was poor; the farm was small, and could only be enlarged by clearing up the primeval forest. The boy vs^as anxious to acquire knowledge, but his services were so neces- sary to his father that he could not be spared to attend the win- ter term of the common school. But the boy was in earnest. With the aid of his brother, one year his junior, he chopped and cleared four acres of birch and maple woodland, plowed it, planted it with corn, hai-vested the crops, and then asked, as his compensation, to be allowed to attend school during the winter. Of course, the father granted 'his wish. When the boy was seventeen, the father's pottery business had so increased as to demand a more extensive factory. A carpenter was hired to build the new building, and the boy assisted him. So familiar did he become with the tools and the trade, that he determined, with the aid of the younger brother, to erect a two-story frame dwellipg-house for his father's family. The two boys cut the timber from the forest, planned and framed the structure, and then invited the neighbors to assist at RULES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. 99 the "raising." They came from far and near to see what a lad of seventeen had done. When every mortise and tenon was formed to fit its place, and the frame was seen to stand perfect and secure, the veterans cheered the young architect and builder. From that day he was in demand as a master-car- penter. That boy was Ezra Cornell, the founder of Cornell University. "Seest thou a man diligent in his business? he shall stand be- fore kings; he shall not stand before obscure men." The meaning of this old proverb is that the man who has done well in little things shall be advanced so that he shall not waste himself on work to which obscure men are adequate. JEzra Cornell illustrated the truth of the Oriental saying. fl J^I^OPHEGY. While sensible people put no faith in fortune-telling, we may, on general principles, predict from a boy's habits whether he is likely to succeed or fail in life. When money burns in his pocket, and he is impatient to spend all that comes into his possession; when he spends every cent of his salary, and even falls into debt; when he prefers to invest his earnings in cigars, handsome clothes, and amusements, to putting them at interest, we may safely predict that he will probably never attain wealth without a decided change of habits. Fifty cents a week saved in youth is often the nucleus of a large fortune. I^ULES BOY{ Boys and Gii^ls. 1. Never call a person up-stairs, or in the next room; if you wish to speak to them, go quietly where they are. 2. Always speak kindly and politely to the servants, if you would have them do the same to you. 3. When told to do or not to do a thing by eithef parent, never ask why you should or should not do it. 4. Tell your own faults and misdoings, not those of your brothers and sisters. 5. Be prompt at every meal-hour. 6. Never interrupt any conversation, but wait patiently your turn to speak. 7. Never reserve your good manners for company, but be equally polite at home and abroad. 100 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. fiDYIGB JFO A yoUNG 0)AN. BURDETTE. My son, you will soon learn that the only really great sins are the ones you have not committed. If the " man without sin " had been a possibility, the stone which he would have cast at the woman taken in adultery would have been a pebble, and even in casting it he would have made an effort to thro\v too high, and so miss the culprit. But any one of the Pharisees, hypo- crites, money-changers, extortioners, usurers, liars, knaves of various degree, standing about her was ready, willing, and anx- ious to fire a whole brick-yard at her. I think, indeed, old men are more charitable always than young people. As the years go on, and yoin* temptations are more varied, your faults and stumbles more numerous — as your own wickedness takes on a little wider scope — you will cease to thank God that you are not as other men are, and will be surprised to learn how much people are like other people, and how greatly do people resem- ble each other, and your sympathies and charities will grow broader together. Youth is very impetuous alike in its faults and judgments. You will be able to see the mote in your brother's eye until you begin wearing spectacles. At twenty- one you will forgive your brother if he offend you one time, provided he plead for your forgiveness with ample apologies and promises of reformation; at forty 3-ou may forgive him seven times, and at sixty, having uncounted times tasted the sweetness of infinite forgiveness yourself, you may be able to forgive him until " seventy times seven."' It is all well enough for you now to say, "Away with him!" every time a culprit is brought in fear and trembling before the bar of your judgment; when you have walked over the burning plowshares yourself, your voice will be more ready to pardon. Just now you be- lieve in the spotless beauty of blind, unswerving justice, and so you find your fellow-servant which owes you one hundred pence, and lay hold of his throat and shout, " Pay me that thou owest!" and cast him into prison because he cannot. But by and by, when you strike a balance-sheet with your Lord, and see that you owe him one hundred pounds, and haven't an ounce of silver or gold in all the world, you will go back, throw ADVICE TO A YOUNG MAN. 101 open the prison-doors so wide that the sunhght of mercy and charity will go streaming down the long corridors into every cell. I wish you would cultivate this virtue of charity a little more while you are young. I wish you could see how beauti- ful it is before your eyes are washed clear with your own tears. It would make your young manhood grander, for "Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe. Become them with one-half so good a grace," And furthermore, my boy, if you are looking around for some one to punish for broken laws, if you are seeking a " hor- rible example" with which to illustrate your lecture or sermon, ■don't go down into the slums to look for him. Don't look about your congregation or the community for some unfortu- nate whose struggles and temptations and falls will point the moral you seek to enforce. Just look for the "horrible exam- ple" right on the platform where you are standing alone. Look for him in your own pulpit, my boy. If you can't find as great a sinner there as is necessary to illustrate the beauty, the conde- scension, the inconceivable grandeur of dying love and infinite grace, come right down out of the pulpit. You've no business on the rostrum. If all the sinners vou know are down in the congregation, you're too good for this world, my boy. Heaven is your home, and I am afraid you will feel a little lonesome even there when you learn that a most excellent minister of the gospel named Paul once rated himself below Frank Rande and Billy McGlory. Before you go hunting around for a "horrible example," my boy, go away into some solitary place by your- self, sit down and ask yourself some hard questions about your- self, and answer them like a man; and then, if you find you are too good to "horrible example" your own lecture and sermon, send for me, and I will come up on the platform beside you and, pose for any thing impressively and dreadfully wicked that you may wish. Once in awhile, my boy, I have occasion to use a "horrible example" myself. But I never pick him out of the congregation, my boy — never. In all things throughout the world the men who look for the crooked will see the crooked, and the men who look straight will see the straieht. 102 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. P ©I^AGTIGAL elOI^E. The mischief that thoughtless boys sometimes do by their practical jokes is immeasurable, and as often unknown to them. A while since, a lady was conversing with a dear friend, who made the remark that she had "never been the same person since her fall." The lady answered that she had never been informed in re- gard to any injury from which she was suffering. "I thought I had told you," she replied. "It happened twenty years ago. You noticed the scar upon my forehead? It was from the wound I then received. We were moving, and I went out in great haste, and was walking very briskly, when I stumbled over a cord that some boys had fastened across the street where the workmen were repairing the gas-pipes. I fell directly into the trench, striking upon my forehead and also breaking my left ai'm in three places, so that the bone pierced through the flesh. I was taken up senseless, the blood stream- ing from my mouth, nostrils, and ears; and as we were in a new neighborhood, no one recognized me, and I was taken to a saloon near by and seated in a chair upon the sidewalk. Of course, I was surrounded by a curious crowd, among w^hom came a poor old woman wnom I had befriended in her pov- erty. Thi^ough her exertions my husband was found, and I was taken home. Several physicians were summoned, all of whom advised that I be allowed to die in peace, my injuries be- ing considered fatal. But at the entreaties of my husband and friends operations were performed, and, as I lived through them, the physicians took courage. At four different times the probes were introduced into the forehead to relieve the pressure upon the brain. As the use of chloroform was then unknown, I had to endure to the uttermost the excruciating torture the operations inflicted. I was insane for weeks, and it was three months between the first and last operations. So you can judge of the extent of my sufferings." " Since you make no allusion to the broken arm," said the lady-friend, "I infer that it gave you less trouble than your head." " My arm healed very well, but has been comparatively use- less since. I was formerly a fine pianist, but since the fall can- NOBLY DONE. 103 not use my hand at the piano, and it is so weak that it is of little use for most practical purposes." "Were the boys ever discovered?" inquired her visitor. " No. A reward of one hundred dollars was offered, but they were not found. Possibly they never knew the evil their thoughtlessness caused. But that little cord across my path has already caused me twenty years of suffering, for I have not seen a well day since." Now, boys, you who have read this incident, pause and ask yourselves if you were ever guilty of a thoughtless deed like this. It is not by any means an uncommon thing for boys to do in the city, this stretching of cords across the sidewalks; and we have known several people to be injured by them. Let this unfortunate lady's experience be a warning against all practical jokes that are liable to inflict injury. Many boys do not distinguish between mischief and fun. Whatever can injure another is mischief. Humanely speaking, death would have been preferable to the fearful pain and life-long suffering caused by the boys who inflicted such injuries upon that lady. . I might tell you how beautiful she wa? at the time of her fall; how happy as a young bride; how kind, and benevolent, and Christian she still is; how specially tender toward 'children; and what a friend to the poor. And yet all her life has been embittered by mischievous boys. HoBiiY Done. Durmg the intensely cold weather of last January a party of boys were skating and coasting on the Schuylkill, at the point where it divides the city of Philadelphia in two. One, a poor lad of sixteen years, named John Hagan, had a large sled, which was the envy of all the other boys. He lent it to one party after another, and sat on the bank watching them with good-humored satisfaction, while they coasted down the bank and almost across the river. At last, as evening was gathering, he rose to go home, but the boys pleaded for one coast more. Ten of them crowded upon the huge sled. It dashed down the bank and out upon the frozen river. There was a sliarp crack, a shriek that rent the air, and a huge black gap aj^peared 104 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. in the white sheet of ice, on wliich a struggling mass was dimly seen for a moment. Then it disappeared in the dark, rushing current. The crowd of skaters and spectators on the bank stood par- alyzed with terror. Only John Hagan kept his senses. He plunged into the sw^ift flood, groped under the ice for the drowning boys, and dragged them one by one to the edge of the hole, where men now stood I'eady to receive them. At last, when nine had thus been rescued, Hagan himself was taken out insensible and carried to his home. "Did I get them all?" were his first words when he was restored to consciousness. No one told him initil the next day, when he was quite out of danger, that one little fellow was lost. Now, it happened that on that very night a leap-year ball was given in the neighborhood of the accident. The young ladies who went to it wore men's dress-coats, collars, etc., and the young men (some of the most wealthy and fashionable in the city) imitated feminine costume and manners. Some of them wore women's full dress, with sweeping brocade traiijs, and bracelets on their bare arms. It was but a passing freak, and should not be harshh' judged; but what a contrast between one of these lisping, bejeweled, beribboned young men, and poor Hagan, struggling in the icy flood and night! Yet Hagan was an illiterate laborer, whom these lads would have regarded, had they met him on the street, as one of the lowest types of manhood. The meaning of the contrast is that fortune, rank, manners, and even education, are but the outer garments with which circumstances envelop the soul. We shall never find the true man if we do not learn to look through and beneath them all. Our boy-i*eaders will be glad to know that a subscription of over a thousand dollars was raised for brave young Hagan, and that he asked that it might be spent in giving him three years' education. He had the good sense to see that even a noble soul is stronger when it is nobly clothed. "Make my son a gentleman," said a woman to King James of Scotland. "I can make him a lord, if you wish, but I can- not make him a eentleman." WHO ARE YOUR ASSOCIATES? 105 ^HO fll^B yOUl^ flSSOGIAiPES? Allen Winfield lived next door to the school-house. So he used to work until quarter before nine every morning, and then ■expeditiously change his w^orking garb for a neat school-suit, which made him look like a new boy. " I wouldn't be digging away there so every morning," said Hugh Rogers, as he lounged over the garden-fence about eight o'clock. " I am going over to school to have some fun." "The teacher does not like to have us come much before school-time," said Allen," and I take more pleasure in seeing these things come on so well in the garden than in a game of ball, even though I like that well enough, too." "Well, you have a curious taste," said the lounger, as he sauntered on to join a company of like-minded lads, who ihought play the main business of life. Mother was sure to call Allen the moment he desired. "Don't be late, Allen," she said, glancing at the clock, which said one minute of nine. "Never fear, mother," said the lad, fastening the last button of his jacket, " the teacher has just passed. I will be there as soon as he." And giving his mother a hasty good-by kiss, he bounded down the steps, and in another minute was in his seat at school. Allen's companions were quickly seen, let him be where he ■would. They were always the best boys and the best scholars in the school, no matter whether they wore broadcloth or home- .spun. A noble-hearted mother had taught him from childhood that character, not clothes, was the standard by which to meas- ure people. Nowhere more than at school is the old adage true about " birds of a feather." At recess you would see Allen one of a knot of boys who are talking intelligently over lessons or matters of improvement, or joining heartily in bracing, manly sports. Hugh, just as regularly, gravitated toward a very different circle. They were the tricky boys, those who always kept the teacher on the alert nipping in the bud their plans of mischief, or correcting them for misdemeanors. They got little profit out of their excellent advantages for obtaining an education. Now, cannot any one easily fancy the future history of those 106 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. two boys? One sinking lower and lower, led on by evil asso- ciates into rounds of dissipation, beginning at the drinking saloon; the other rising to a noble, prosperous manhood, to take the responsible positions of honor in society. "He that walketh with wise men shall be wise." A young man's whole future life depends largely upon the associates he chooses. Senator Henry Wilson was a self-controlled as well as a self- made man. He left his New Hampshire home early in life, and changed his name in order to get out from the baneful shadow of intemperance. He began at the lowest round of the social ladder, and climbed up, rung by rung, until he became a polit- ical power in the Nation. The first step he took in the ascent placed him on the pledge never to drink intoxicating liquors; the second step made him an industrious laborer; the third, a diligent reader. He was sent to Washington to carry a petition against the ad- mission of Texas into the Union. John Qiiincy Adams asked him to a dinner party, where he met with some of the great men of the Nation. He was asked to drink wine. The temp- tation to lay aside his temperance principle for a moment, in order not to seem singular, was a strong one; but he resisted it,, and declined the glass of wine. Mr. Adams commended him for his adherence to his convictions. After Mr. Wilson was elected to the United States Senate, he gave h s friends a dinner at a noted Boston hotel. The table was set with not a wine-glass on it. "Where are the wine-glasses?" asked several, loud enough to remind their host that some of the guests did not like sittino" down to a wineless dinner. "Gentlemen," said Mr, Wilson, rising, and speaking with a great deal of feeling, "you know my friendship for you, and my obligations to you. Great as they are, they are not great enough to make me forget 'the rock whence I was hewn and the pit from which I was dug.' Some of you know how the curse of intemperance overshadowed my youth. That I might escape, I fled from my early surroundings and changed my name. For what I am I am indebted, under God, to my tem- LEARN TO SWIM. 107 perance vow and to my adherence to it. Call for what you want to eat, and, if this hotel can provide it, it shall be forth- coming. But wines and liquors cannot come upon this table with my consent, because I will not spread in the path of an- other the snare from which I have escaped." Three rousing cheers showed the brave Senator that men ad- mired the man who had the courage of his convictions. IxBAi^N TO Swim. Every healthy boy and girl can learn to swim. Lfit me tell you how I learned. In learning to swim there are just two things to acquire. First, confidence in tiie water; second, proper motion in the water. First, learn to think of the water, not as a monster, ready to devour all that may approach it, but rather look upon it as a willing servant or a playful companion, ready to serve or save, and ready to afford you all manner of delight. Then learn to move the hands and feet in the right way. Some persons reverse this order, and try to secure the proper motion first. This they do by using corks, or life-preservers, or any thing that will hold them up while they get the stroke, or catch the exact movement. Thousands have learned in this way. It is not the best; for such have to learn over again when they try to swim without these helps. A better way, especially for the girls, is to have some friend, who will place the hand under the chin of the learner, and gradually remove the help as the person learns to do without it. If you choose, this method — of learning the proper motion first — you need only to remember this single rule: always thrust out the hands and. feet at the same time. In the recovery, when you draw in the feet and hands, do it slowly; then, with a sud- den push, stretch your^lf out as far as your feet and hands can reach, keeping them close together. Any good swimmer will show you how this is done; but you may not do it perfectly the first time. I began the other way — gaining confidence first, the proper motion afterward. Most persons are afraid of the water, es- pecially when they sink beneath its surface. Those learning to swim are apt to carry the head and body too far out of the water. 108 YOUTHS' DEPAHTMENT. To gain this confidence, then, I first of all accustomed myself to remain under water as long as I could hold my breath. In this way I lost all fear. Afterward, when I was learning the proper motion, if I sank up to my mouth, and almost to my eyes, it didn't frighten me. Having gained this confidence, then I took a very easy and natural method' of learning the swimmer's stroke. I began with what we boys called scooping — i. e., standing on a rock, or any thing a foot or two below the surface. I stooped down until thejkvater came to the chin, than gave a sudden push, with the hands stretched out before me, and the feet straight behind me, the hands and feet together, of course, thus skimming along the surface. First I went a little way, until I reached the hand of my friend, who stood ready to catch me. Then he stepped back a little farther; then a little farther still. Thus it was I discovered the buoyancy of the water. Then I took my first stroke while scooping, then another, and gradually another, until I proudly told my companions the next day that I could swim six strokes. Adding a few strokes every day, in a short time I was swim- ming fearlessly with the veterans. You can all do the same, if you will try. Be Shoi^ough. " I never do a thing thoroughly," Mary said to me the other day. She had just been competing for a prize in composition. " I only read my composition once after I wrote it, and I never practiced it in the chapel at all." She was naturally far more gifted than Alice, who was her principal competitor. Alice wrote and rewrote her essay, and practiced it again and again. The day came. Alice read her com]5osition in a clear, dis- tinct voice, without hesitation or lack of expression. It was condensed and well-written. Mary's could not be heai'd be- yond the fifth row of seats, and was long and uninteresting. , Alice won the prize. One remembered, and the other forgot, that trrth so trite, but so aptly put by Carlyle, " Genius is an immense capacity for taking trouble." One, by patient, persistent effort, obtained what the other re- lied upon her natural talent to win for her. NEVER DESPOND. 109 Whatever you do — whether you sweep a room, or make a cake, or write an essay, or trim a hat, or read a hook — do it thoroughly. Have a high standard for every thing. Not alone because only thus can you win honor and distinction, but because this is the only honest, right. Christian way to use the gifts God has be- stowed upon you. To be honest before him we must be thorough. •r^ow jpo 050 i^K Easily. Hard work can never be made thoroughly easy; but it can be materially lightened by systematic planning. If you go to- work methodically and free from excitement, it is surprising how much you can accomplish. There is scarcely any wear and tear of your constitution. While you are at work, devote yourself to it. Concentrate all your faculties on what you are doing. Do not attempt to both work and play at the same time. It was a shrewd observation of Kirke White, the gifted poet, whose early death adds a touch of melancholy to all he wrote, that he found if he concentrated his whole attention on the driest book he had to study,, it soon became interesting, and in a short time he would become so absorbed as to turn over page after page xinconsciously to himself. Intensity of thought is not exhausting if not too long con- tinued; so that in one sense he who works hardest accomplishes his task most easily. He has also much more time for rest and recreation. Work by yourself, free from interruption, if you can, with a self-possessed and cheerful spirit, and though your work be hard you will find it easy. Hbybi^ Despond. Keep up your courage, whatever happens. The most peril- ous hour of a person's life is when he is tempted to despond. The man who desponds loses all. There is no more hope of him than of a dead man; but it matters not how poor he may be, how much deserted by his friends, how much lost to the world; if he only keeps up his courage, holds up his head, works up with his hands, with unconquerable will determines to be and to do what becomes a man, all will be well. 110 YOUTHS' BEPAETMENT. fl Delusion. BY THE KEY. O. P. FITZGERALD. It is a prevalent delusion of young people that there is such a thing as good-luck as distinguished from ill-luck! There is no such thing. It is fully and eternally true that no person's good fortune can really rise above his character or deserts. The con- trary belief of thousands makes of them hypocrites, scoundrels, failures, wrecks. The worship of the goddess of luck is devil- worship. In the imaginations of the young she — this goddess — presides not only over the gambling table and the stock-market, but in the business mart, the law office, the political arena, and the matrimonial market. Considering the chances of a life-time, they think the lightning of luck must strike them at least once. In no good sense is it true that there is any such thing as luck. From a superficial view there seems to be endless diversitv of good and evil fortune — some are born poor, others are born rich; some are strong, others are weak; some die early, others live long lives; one falls in the battle, another escapes; one toils hard and nearly stai^ves in obscurity, while another apparently has only to wish and his wishes are met. This is on the surface. A deeper view will show that luck goes for nothing in the problem of human destiny, which depends wholly upon char- acter. Every one's foi'tune is within. Says Emerson: "For every thing worth having we must pay the price." This is a true saying, all the apparently successful thieves, quacks, dema- gogues, cheats, and liars of every shade and name to the con- trary notwithstanding. It is not safe to trust the young' man who trusts to luck. He is apt to be. a young man who swindles his employer, neglects to pay his board-bill and washerwoman, and brings to sorrow and disgrace the poor girl who may be foolish enough to risk her luck in man-ying him. You mav point to your small men in high places, your mean men in places that ought to be honorable almost everywhere, and claim that they are lucky. I reply, they have not risen above them- selves; honor refuses to crown them; but though associated with poverty and defeat, as this world goes, she bends over the graves of martyred heroes and places upon their tombs the amaranth of a glorious immortality. ''DRAWING trade:' 111 "Dl^AWING ©I^ADB." A merchant in town wants a clerk. What for? Has he more business than he, and his partner, and the bright boy reared up in his store, can attend to? O no! They three could do twice as much business as he has; indeed, the one clerk could do it all, and would be glad of the opportunity if his wages were correspondingly increased. What, then, does he want another clerk for? To "draw trade from the country." He keeps his former clerk on small wages, and casts about in his mind for a lad in the country who is popular, has a good address, and is extensively connected. He is not long in find- ing one. The young man, allured by the prospect of living in town, and "seeing things," and wearing good clothes every day, readily accepts a small salary and moves to town. What comes of this? Some things always; some other things frequently. A promising boy is taken from the field — his plow is stopped forever; a producer of corn, cotton, wheat, oats, fruit, milk, but- ter, poultry, and all other kinds of farm products, is drawn to town to stay. The most active Sunday-school scholar, who has done most to keep his class together and to encourage the su- perintendent and pastor, is drawn oft', and leaves the little church in the country weak and discouraged. He adds nothing to the volume of trade in town — that is lessened by whatever amount he would have produced on the farm. He simply "draws" trade away from some other house in the same or neighboring town to the house with which he is connected. The competing house must now seek to recover the lost trade by getting some other young man from the same country neigh- borhood. Thus the result is, two, three, or four young men are drawn from the fields, where their labors were productive and remunerative, to town, where their labor adds not a cent's value to any thing. The whole business of the town could have beeji done as well, probably better, without them. Now, of the things which frequently happen, we may mention, as the sad- dest of all, the bright, promising boy is ruined. He is there to draw trade; competition is sharp,, and, to succeed, he is tempted to hold out false inducements to his customers, to discredit the competing house, to become "hail-fellow, well met," with men from his neighborhood whose example is poison, to invite them 112 YOUTHS' DEFARTMENT. to places of amusement and worse places. He has no promi- nence in the Church, thinks himself of no importance to the town Church, assumes to be slighted by the pastor, distrusts the simple heart-religion of his boyhood, and goes headlong to the devil. If his course be not so downward and short, in forty- nine cases out of fifty he becomes at least only a tolerable mer- chant, his life being more of a failure than a success. " Draw- ing trade" has drawn him from a useful and peaceful vocation into the perils and troubles of an unprofitable life. Do Something. A certain man who lost his property, instead of sitting down in despair, or seeking to drown his family troubles in strong drink, went out on the street and agreed to do the first work he could find. It was shoveling coal into a cellar. He performed his task promptly and faithfully, took his pay, and walked on. In a short time he was on his feet again financially, as he de- served to be, and as the people saw he was worthy of being. The following advice by the Christian at Work is to the point: " It was a monk just before Luther's day who said, ' I assure you, my hearers, if I could not preach I should be proud to make shoes: and if I made shoes, if I could help it, no one should make a better pair than I.' What a manly thing that was to say, and how much the lesson is needed to-day! "Look at that young girl floundering in furbelows, who thinks her highest office in life is that of an ornamental do- nothing. Look at that young man, whose father can scarcely provide enough food for his table. You say the boy ought to be doing something, but instead he is gadding about the streets, or flirting with young misses, pursuing an aimless, enervating life,, possessing nothing but vacuity and resources. Yet these ado- lescent do-nothings never think to change their case, but the weeks slip into months, and the months into years, and find them growing indeed, but growing in one spot, never changing position, drawing a measure of sustenance, but yielding nothing- in return. They speedily become as pithy, as juiceless, as worthless as a last year's radish. In some cases this is owing ta a want of self-reliance; but in very many it is the result of a want of pride. And yet, of all things, these young fry sup- FORGOT. 113 pose that if they have nothing else they have pride. But it is the very thing they lack, and how fearfully! A man who pos- sesses the pride born of true nobility and manhood is not ashamed to turn lijs hand to honest work, but he is ashamed to be a pensioner on the bounties of others. Young men in the vineyard, go to work! If you have not the pride and the strength of character of the monk who would be proud to make shoes, at least put your hand to something, and go to work. Get down and out of all your castles in the air, and earn your salt. Stop dreaming about grand possibilities, which in your case are only glorious impossibilities, and earn your living by the perspiration of your eyebrows. If you will only believe it, the world's heroes arc not chosen from the world's do-nothings." For^GOT. Guessing at an answer is a lost art in one of the Boston pub- lic schools. The pupils are trained to say, frankly, "I don't know," when they don't know. The training is beneficial to the pupil's morals and intellect. The late eccentric Professor' Sophocles, of Harvard Univer- sity, tried to form the same habit in his students. One day, he put this question to a class of Freshmen who were making a poor recitation in Greek history: "How did, the lions get into the Peloponnesus?" " Why, I suppose they came across the Isthmus of Corinth," said one student. "No, sir. Next." " Well, they might have swam over the gulf." " No. Next." "I think they were imported there by the Spartans for wild- beast shows." " Wrong. Next." The next hazarded a still wilder guess, and the next made a more frightful shot than an}' who preceded him. Professor Sophocles looked over the class with a compassionate glance, and remarked, slowly and dryly, in his indescribable manner, "Gentlemen, there are no lions in the Peloponnesus!" This anecdote recalls a similar scene, one that occurred some years ago, under Professor Harkness, of Brown University. 114 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. The question under discussion was the exact number in the Greek chorus, a point which has never been settled by scholars. Professor — "Mr. S , how many persons were there in the Greek chorus?" Mr. S. — " Well, Professor, I did know, but I can't remember now." Professor — " What a pity that the only person who ever knew has forgotten ! " "Ho Daddyism." In that West to which Horace Greeley advised young men to go when they applied to him for counsel, there is little re- spect for a man's ancestors. Those self-reliant Westerners, each one of whom has been the architect of his own fortune, thoroughly believe in the proverb, " Every tub must stand upon its own bottom. ' Some years ago, a young man went from Boston to Chicago, where he sought a situation as clerk. Meeting with an elderly Bostonian, who was passing through the city and knew him well, he sought his aid. The gentleman went in person to a Chicago merchant and highly recommended the young man. "He belongs," said lie, " to one of the oldest of Boston fam- ilies; his blood is the bluest." "My dear sir," interrupted the merchant, "that cock won't fight in this city; there's no daddyism in Chicago." It was in a wittier strain that President Lincoln replied to a German who, during the war, applied to him for an officer's commission. The President was so pleased by the foreigner's address and intelligence, that he promised him a lieutenant's commission in a cavalry regiment. The applicant was profuse in his expressions of gratitude, and informed the President that he had conferred a favor upon a member of one of the oldest of the noble families of Germany. "O never mind that," said old Abe, with a characteristic smile. "You'll not find that to be an obstacle to your promo- tion if you behave yourself" It is strange how much more patience, quietness, and skill a boy will exhibit when fishing for trout than when striving for an education. A JAPANESE ENGINEER 115 If a man would appear like a gentleman, he must walk, stand, and sit like one. In walking he should, above all, avoid every thing that is unnatural, or that smacks of self-consciousness. How often do we see men in the street whose every movement tells us their minds are chiefly on themselves! One throws his chest out a la dindon, while another walks with an abnormal stoop; but both delight in a kind of rolling, swaggering gait and an unnatural swing of the arms. We all know, when we see such a man, no matter what his appearance in other respects may be, that he is a person of low-breeding. Not only is a man's walk an index of his character and of the grade of his culture, but it is also an index of the frame of mind he is in. There is the thoughtful walk and the thoughtless walk, the re- sponsible walk and the carelsss walk, the worker's and the idler's walk, the ingenuous and the insidious walk, and so on. In a word, what there is in us we all carry in essentially the same way; hence, the surest way to have the carriage of gen- tility is to have gentility to carry. fl JAPANESE €NGINEEI^. Mr. T. A. Martsdaira, the new city engineer of Bradford, Pa., is a native of Japan, and- the first man of his nationality to be chosen to a civil office in the United States. He was educated in this country at the expense of his father, a wealthy Japanese nobleman, and upon graduating asked consent to remain a few years longer to practice civil engineering, to which he had de- voted much study in his college course. His father replied that unless he came home on the" next steamer his allowance would cease, and he need expect no more help from him. The son re- plied that he would stay, and the father became angr}^ and wrote to his Japanese friends to have nothing to do with the young man. He stayed and practiced his profession, acting for some time as assistant engineer of the Manhattan Elevated Railroad Company in New York, and afterward for three years as chief engineer of the Union Pacific Railroad in Wy- oming, Idaho, and Montana. When elected city engineer of Bradford he was engaged on raih'oad work in McKean County, Pennsvlvania. 116 youths' defaetment. Be Studious. Whitefield was poor, and in " service," but he managed to get education, and both England and America have felt his power for good. William Harvey did not find out the circulation of the human blood by a lucky accident. He was a hard student at home and abroad, and taught the doctrine to his classes for ten years before he published it to the world. Young men ought to I'emember that there are still splendid services to be rendered. All the discoveries have not yet been made. The field is now the world, as it never was before. The best books can now be had as never before. Education of the highest kind, in physiology, mental philosophy, engineering, and chemistry, is accessible as it never was before. An empire without an emperor has grown up on this continent, and much of the soil is yet without occupant and master. Other empires are open to educated ability, and will become more so every year. There is a legitimate sphere for splendid ambition. LiiiriPLB Things. More depends on little things than we think. It is said that Voltaire, when five years old, learned an infidel poem, and. he was never able to free himself from its effects. Scott, the com- mentator, when despairing, read a hymn of Dr. Watts, and was turned from a life of idleness and sin to one of usefulness. Cowper, about to drown himself, wds carried the wrong way by his driver, and went home and wrote, "God moves in a mys- terious way." The rebuke of a teacher aroused Dr. Clarke to great action, who had up to that time been slow in acquiring knowledge. Ole Bull, the great violinist, rescued from suicide by drowning and taken to the near residence of a wealthy lady, became her protege, and soon acquired fame. Robert Moffat, the distinguished missionary, reading a placard announcing a missionary meeting, was led to devote himself to work for the heathen. One step downward often leads men into greatest guilt. It is the little words and actions that make and mar our lives. He is to be educated because he is a man, and not because he is to make shoes, nails, and pins. A USE FOR DEAD LANGUAGES. 117 Pl^IENDSHIPS. It is takirtg tlie care, and sorrow, and loss, and trouble of an- other as if they were your own that makes friendship; it is put- ting our souls under another man's soul and bearing him, as it were. One goes up or goes down with the other. You can't have many of these friendships — they aro too costly; there is not time to cultivate many of them. You can have kindly feel- ings toward multitudes, but when it comes to the matter of serving, and when your conscience is another man's conscience, and your heart, like a bell, is struck every time that he is in trouble, it is about as much as you can do to take care of that one man. When one really loves, there is a carelessness about one's own haj^piness, a sense of the other's growth; there is a power and energy put forth in developing the life of the loved one, as if your life lay in it. It is the nature of love to serve. fl Use poi^ Dead Lxanguages. The following extract from J. T. Trowbridge's serial, "The Scarlet Tanager," in the St. Nicholas magazine, is a clear and simple explanation of the reasons for giving to flowers and trees, beasts, birds, and fishes, the long and, to many, unintelli- gible Greek and Latin names they all bear: " ' But I can't see the use of giving Latin and Greek names to birds and things nowadays,' said Gaspar. " ' Perhaps I can explain it to you,' said the master.. ' Take the picus auratus, for instance. We have seen that it has several common names — one of which, certainly, belongs to another bird. So, if a person speaks of a yellow-hammer, how are you to know whether he means this or the European species.^ In ordinary conversation you may think that it is not very impor- tant; but in all scientific descriptions it is necessary that such names shall be used as cannpt be misunderstood.' " ' But why can't men of science agree upon English names for all plants and animals?' the boy inquired. " ' That is a sensible question. The answer to it is that all men of science are not English-speaking people. There are German, French, Spanish, Swedish, Dutch, Russian ornithol- ogists (men who have a thorough knowledge of birds), and those of many other countries. Now, it is true they all might 118 YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. agree upon an English name for each bird; but it would be as unreasonable for us to expect that of foreigners as we would consider it if we were all required to learn a French or a Dutch name. It really seems much simpler and more convenient to use Latin and Greek names, which learned inen in all countries agree upon and understand; so that a German man of science will know just w^hat a Spanish man of science is writing about, if he uses correct scientific terms. Now, take the case of this very bird. A Swedish naturalist, named Linnasus, who was a great botanist, and classified and gave scientific names to plants, also gave names to many birds — to this species, I suppose, among others — so that when the picus auratus is alluded to by any writer in any language, ornithologists know just what bird is meant. So, you see, these scientific terms that you dislike fonn a sort of universal language understood by men of science the woi'ld over.' " gUSH. We often see the little word "Push" on the swing-doors of some establishments, and it suggests the thought that all through life we need to keep that stirring motion urging us on. Noth- ing is done without "push" nowadays. No man in any capac- ity will do much if he has it not. We are not speaking of im- pertinence and ignorant ambition, but of an earnest sprightli- ness of character which makes every act of interest and the stepping-stone to something better. And not in commerce only, but in our Church-life, we need the impulsive principle. LiOOI^ OUT POI^THB UOIGE. You often hear boys and girls say words when they are vexed that sound as if made up of a snarl, a whine, and a bark. Such a voice often expi'esses more than the heart feels. Often, even in mirth, one gets a voice, or tone, that is sharp, and it sticks to him through life. Such persons get a sharp voice for home use, and keep their best voices for those they meet else- where. I would say to all boys and girls, "Use your guest- voice at home." Watch it day by day, as a pearl of great price, for it will be worth more to you than the best pearl in the sea. A kind voice is a lark's song to a hearth and home. Train it to sweet tones now, and it will keep in tune through life. BE HONORABLE, 119 She Fii^sii Booi^. "The first piece of money I ever had," said a gentleman, showing us into his library, "I spent for a book. It was the Pilgrim's Progress. I well remember how pleased I was. The pictures, the reading, the blank leaves, were mine, and my name was written on one of the blank leaves at the beginning. Thai book laid the foundation of my library. All the pennies my uncle gave me I saved for books. Every book I bought I longed to read, and that prevented my time as well as my money from being wasted; for the books which I bought I consulted old friends about, and they were worth reading. And I would say to every boy and girl, Do not foolishly spend all your pocket-money in other things, but lay the foundation of a good Hbrary with it. ' Good books are wise and faithful companions.' " fiDYiGB TO A Boy. Get away from the crowd a little while every day, my dear boy. Stand to one side and let the world r«n by, while you get acquainted with yourself, and see what kind of a fellow you are. Ask yourself hard questions about yourself; ascertain from original sources if you are the manner of man people say you are; find out if you are always honest; if your life is as good at eleven o'clock at night as it is at noon; if you are as good a boy when you go to Chicago as you are at home; if, in short, you really are the sort of a young man your father hopes you are, or your mother says you are. Get on intimate terms with yourself, my boy, and believe me, every time you come out from those private interviews you will be a stronger, better, purer man. Don't forget this, my friend, and it will do you good. Be I^ONOI^ABLB. Boys and young men sometimes start out in life with the idea that one's success depends on sharpness and chicanery. They imagine if a man is able to "get the best of a bargain,'' no mat- ter by what deceit and meanness he carries his point, that his prosperity is assured. This is a great mistake. Enduring pros- perity cannot be founded on cunning and dishonesty. The tricky and deceitful man is sure to fall a victim, sooner or later, 120 • YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT. to the influences which are forever working against him. The future of that young man is safe who eschews every shape of double-deahng, and lays the foundation of his career in the en- during principles of everlasting truth. DON'JP Dawdle. The word "dawdle"' means to "waste time," to "trifle." When a boy does a thing in a "poky," lazy way, he " dawdles" over it. It is a bad thing to fall into a dawdling habit. It helps to make a boy unmanly, and a girl unwomanly. The dawdler's life is apt to be a failure. He does little for himself or others. "In books, or work, or healthful play," he doesn't amount to much. Don't dawdle. Do things with a will, and do them well. You must not splutter or be "fussy" over your work. The fussy fellow can waste time in his haste as well as the dawdler in his slow trifling. Have a quick eye, and a ready hand, and a patient heart, always. If you have an hour in which to do a half-hour's task, do it in that half-hour. Get through on time, then play with brisk- ness and sparkling enjoyment. Do your errands promptly. Brush your hair with a lively hand. Sweep your room with decision in every motion of the broom. Take one "degree" in a useful line of "D.D.'s" — Don't Dawdle. SiME mo Gi^ow In. "HmTy up! Be quick, now!" How we do haVe this shot into our ears from every quarter! Before our hands have com- pleted what they are about, some one gives us a nudge and a "hurry up, there!" Hurry-scurry, pell-mell, goes on the great rushing world — no time for this, no time for that — one hand upon the last thing reached for, while the other reaches forward to grasp something else. Now, stop a bit, while we tell you something right at the outset of life: You don't want to be ca- joled into thinking there isn't time for what your heart tells you you would like to work out. Time is your own, God-givCn; let no one take it from you. Do with it as it seems best. Let the world pass on; if need be, it can live without you; but don't be cheated out of what rightfully belongs to you — time to grow in. rajj—i^^'-xoi iDUgATlONAL DEPARTMENT. Cdugaiiiion is nom Booi^-lbarning. BY W. W. BREESE. JIERE are various ideas as to what con- stitutes an education. The common mean- ing attached to the term is a most false and unjust one. Getting an education, as com- monly appHed, means the learning out of books a few things recorded by scholars. Learning to repeat the thoughts of other people is not the object of an edu- cation. It is only the work of preparation, for the process of educating the mind has not yet begun. You might as well call the snow, the rain, the cold and the heat of the seasons farming, for they are es- sential to the farmer's success, and all important to his crop. But if nothing else is done, only a fine crop of weeds is produced. Do nothing but study books, no matter how vigorousl}^, and life would be barren of results, of great use to mankind. It is a sad fact that nearly as many "educated" fools are turned out of our colleges as useful citizens; nor is it the fault, in most cases, of the college faculty, as so many would have it appear. The fault lies largely, if not entirely, at the door of the parent or (121) 122 EDUCATIONAL DEPARTMENT, guardian, who conceives that a " college education " is an " open sesame " to honor, wealth, a lazy life, and a virtuous death. The child is taught from its cradle that going through college will fit him for any position in life, and insure success without effort. Alas! what other result can be expected? College professors can- not manufacture brains, nor w^holly eradicate the evils of such home-training. It is related of a certain man — who, from being an ignorant, poor day-laborer, was suddenly hoisted to great wealth — that he sent his daughter to a popular college for young ladies.. In a few weeks he received a message from the president, asking him to call at his office at an early day. When the man arrived the president proceeded in a kind and cautious man-- ncr to advise him to take his daughter home again. " The fact is," he concluded, " she has not a capacity for study, and it is wasting money to keep her here without it." "O!" said Mr. Moneybags, "if that is all, buy her one at once!" and he took out a large roll of greenbacks, prepared to pay a thousand dol- lars, if need be, for a " capacity," which he regarded as some mysterious part of a scholar's wardrobe. The fact is, parents (uneducated parents especially) seem to think that when their child leaves school, he or she is fully fitted to become a " boss," and make a living without stoopmg to the details of common drudgery. There was never a greater error incul- cated, amongst the vast throng of errors abroad in the world. The only object of an education, as shown by actual practice, is to enable one to be of greater use to the world, and to do more work for the world. In accomplishing this result it seldom ED UCA TION IS NOT BOOK-LEARNING. 123 happens that happiness or pleasure increases in the same ratio. The best educated and most useful people are far from being the most happy ones, as a rule. But many a young man and young woman graduate from college as totally ignorant, uneducated, and fool- ish as the day they entered the institution. They are conceited, full of silly notions, pufted up, and offensive to their superiors. Such persons are far from having an education, although they may hold diplomas from a dozen universities, and be able to calculate the weight of the earth to the fraction of an ounce. Education means discipline — the discipHne and training of the mind first, and of all the mental Vacui- ties, including the heart and the moral nature, in the final p^rt. A true education, perfect polish, and exact touch and taste, may be obtained out of school, but not as easily nor as speedily as in school. Many a well-educated man never saw the inside of a college. We may sum up the whole matter in a phrase: Learning to be accurate is getting an education j with- out accuracy there is no real education. The late James T. Fields once gave to a lot of school-boys a homely, forcible illustration of the ne- cessity of accuracy. He likened the man who was "just a little inaccurate" in his statements and calcu- lations to " a pretty good egg" which no one wanted to eat, though it could not be pronounced " bad." One of London's merchant-princes and philanthro- pists, the late George Moore, was noted for his accu- racy. He insisted that his clerks should be correct in the smallest of details, and keep a voucher for every penny paid out. 124 EDUCATIONAL DEPARTMENT. Once a clerk had made out Mr. Moore's private account against the firm. Mr. Moore, while auditing it, going over hundreds of pounds, suddenly stopped at a debit of 3^. for a "'bus to Euston," for which there w^as no voucher. "Where's the voucher for this?" he asked. "If the account be threepence wrong, it might as well be three hundred pounds wrong. Find the voucher! " Two clerks hunted three da3'S for that voucher, searching through every letter and bill for a year back, and ransacked every drawer. But the voucher could not be found. Mr. Moore refused to pass the accounts, and the book- keeper could not balance his books. At last, the clerk recollected that some time before Mr. Moore had ordered a fish to be sent to Euston Station by a porter. Being in a great hurr}', he had not given the man a 'bus ticket. The cashier, knowing the ex- penditure to be right, had paid the porter, and debited the amount to Mr. Moore's private account without a voucher. Mr. Moore admitted the correctness of the charge on the circumstance being mentioned to him, but gave the clerk a sound lecture for infringing the firm's rule — no payment without a voucher. The clerks thought him a little,. too particular in this case; but they didn't know that their rich employer came near being ruined, when a clerk, by a little inaccuracy in addition. One day, while in the employ of a London dry- goods merchant, Moore was sent with a bundle ot goods to Lady Conyngham's house. She inspected the articles, selected several, and told the clerk to make out a receipted bill. He did so, but unfortu- nately made it one pound more than the amount he ED UCA TION IS NO T BOOK-LEARNING. 125 received. Alter his departure, tlie lady, on looking over the bill, saw the mistake, and thinking she had paid the clerk the extra pound, hastened to the store to have it returned. On referring to Moore's check- book, it was found that the amount entered was one pound less than. the receipted bill. "Young man," said her ladyship, indignantly, "you are a thief!" " No, your ladyship, he is not," rejoined the employer. "We don't keep thieves in our store. There's some mistake about it. George, see if you can't recollect the circumstance and clear up the matter." George tried, and became more bewildered. Sud- denly, he asked the lady the amount of money she had in her purse when she began to pay him. " I am as- tonished at your impertinence, young man," said she; "yet I can give you the desired information. Lord Conyngham gave me twenty pounds this morning. I paid so much to the grocer, so much to the baker, so much to you, and I have so much left." The clerk noted 3own the figures, added them up, and found that they made twenty-one pounds, or a pound more than she had received from her husband. He called his employer's attention to the fact; and then re- membering that he had made a memorandum of the articles sold, he produced it. The employer saw that George had received the money according to memo- randum, and not according to the receipted bill. He was satisfied, but her ladyship left the store in a rage, loudly declaring that " the clerk was a thief." But at home her cooled temper allowed her to calmly review all the facts. Seeing that the clerk's statement was correct, she sent a polite note to the merchant, stating that she was convinced of her error and the young 126 EDUCATIONAL DEPARTMENT. man's honesty. It was a narrow escape for George Moore. The laws then punished forging, steahng, and shop-lifting with death. Only a short time before, a clerk in a neighboring store had been hung for an offense similar to that of' which George had been ac- cused. The lesson was an impressible one; for from that day George Moore cultivated accuracy in the smallest of details. But fortunately the penalty for inaccuracy is not likely to be so severe in all cases, else few of our modern college-boys would save their heads! But the necessity for a proper comprehension of the true object to be gained by a course of schooling is cer- tainly very important at the outset. The story is told of a mason who used one brick with one edge thicker than the other in the wall he was building, and as the result the wall at last toppled over. Just so with ever so little an untruth in your character, it grows more and more untrue if you per- mit it to remain, till it brings sorrow and ruin. Hence it must be impressed on a child, at the beginning of its school-life, that no amount of " learning " will avail if this is simply hoarded up as a miser hoards his gold, and the outside life receives no benefit or modifying influence. We must address a word of reproof to the teacher also. There is many a teacher in high place who is no more fit for his place than was the Assyrian mon- arch who beheld the handwriting upon the wall — that just sentence, " Thou hast been weighed and found wanting." Our Saviour says, " By their fruits ye shall know them." And if ever there was a class of men to whom this will apj^ly more than to another, it is the ED UCA TION IS NOT BO OK-LEA RNING. 127 teacher. The one is a blundering, perfunctory ma- chine (a machine that is very badly out of order, and poorly adapted for its purpose), while another is en- thusiastic, earnest, full of resources, and keenly alive to all the responsibilities of the situation. The one teaches his pupils to be accurate, careful, painstaking, thoughtful; the other blunders along with a blunder- ing set of pupils, and turns them out to get an educa- tion, if they ever do get it at all, in the highways and by-ways of life, often too late to be of much service to themselves, or to the world either. How often do we see teachers in the school-room moving about like an elephant in a flower-garden, trampling out every sweet blossom of confidence, and destroying every bud of promise. The grass that is pressed down by the roller on the lawn only becomes the more obstinate by the pressure; so the soul of the child, pressed down by our petty despot- ism, when delivered from the pressure, is too prone to rebel against every thing that is good and just. We can only hope for success by working month after month and year after year, and then we achieve, only approximate results. One blow upon the anvil makes no perceptible impression; but examine it after the brawny arms of the smith have spent a year striking successive blows upon it. Mark the result! Weary not, therefore, in well-doing. And now a little advice to the eager seeker after an education. We have some time since reached the conclusion that the worst accident that can befall a young man — or a young woman either, for that mat- ter — is to be born with wealthy but unwise parents. We will not say "ignorant" parents, for fear of being 128 EDUCATIONAL DEPARTMENT. misunderstood. We mean such as lack the proper judgment and firmness in managing their children wisely. The poor boy stands ten times the better chance in this country when he lacks wise parental control. Hence, if you are merely^^oor, and yet have reached an appreciation of a good education, you have no cause to complain. Young men who have to work their own way through college, receive an extra education, which is often more valuable than the teaching of president and professor. Their wits are being sharpened to find out ways of earning money, and of saving it by stern economy. Lyman Beecher tells an amusing story of his senior year. It was near the close of the year, and while expenses were heavy, his purse was empty, and a note was due Avhich had been given for borrowed money. The. butler of the college (Yale) resigned six weeks before Commencement. Beecher, seeing his oppor- tunity, bought out the man's stock for three hundred dollars, and went into the business in dead earnest. He bought a load of water-melons and cantaloupes, and trundled them over the college-green in a wheel- barrow. The rich students laughed at him for being his own servant, but bought his melons. He traded in other commodities. Lyman made a capital trader, and was amazed at his own success. He cleared enough in six weeks to pay the butler for his goods, to take up the note for borrowed money, to meet all Commencement expenses, and to graduate with one hundred dollars in his pocket. The same intense earnestness made hmi successful in the pulpit. There are a thousand avenues open for you by COLLEGE MEN. 129 which, with time and patience, you can get what you crave. Go at it pkickily, earnestly, and thoroughly! Be resolved that whatever you study shall be mas- tered, and whatever you begin shall be finished, and the habit of doing this will constitute the most valu- able part of your education. College CQen. There is an occasional gibe at college-bred men, as if they were too fine for practical service in affairs. But the fact is that they havfe had a powerful and controlling part in such service. The New England emigration, which was the most momentous in history, and the most influential in early American affairs, was led by college men. The most powerful Revolutionary leaders were college men. The chiefs of the Constitutional Convention of 1787 were college men. The party captains and political champions during the constitutional century have been, in most effective part, college rnen. It is not weakness, nor an impracticable tendency, which breeds in the mind of the poor country boy the desire to go to college. On the contrary, it is the instinct of conscious power seeking to strengthen itself, and such boys have come to stand among great Americans. The colonial colleges were few and small, but the best of them 4id their work well. New York was a little late in found- ing a college. But the New-Yorker who first distinctly hinted at independence, and clearly stated the central argument of the Revolution, John Morin Scott, was a son of Yale, and the Revolutionary fathers of New York — John Jay, the Livingstons, Gouverneur Morris, and many another — were of Columbia Col- lege. Indeed, when President Cooper, of Columbia, who had been brought from England to preside over the college, took up the Tory cudgels to discipline New-Yorkers, they were knocked out of his hands by a doughty antagonist in a work of anonym- ity, who proved to be Alexander Hamilton, one of his own pupils. The college does not guarantee to every graduate all the virt- ues and moral graces, nor all knowledge and wisdom, nor genius, and statesmanship, and cominon sense. Neither can the com- 9 130 EDUCATIONAL DEPARTMENT. mon school or the academy do this, nor the counting-room, nor the workshop, nor the caucus. But experience shows that the • youths who earnestly desire the knowledge and the training which the college supplies are those who become men that the country wants. To like to read good books, to associate with generous, enlightened persons, to be frugal and temperate, and cleanly of life, are evidences of tendencies and tastes which every parent hails in his child with delight. In like manner, the taste and the desire for college education are proofs of the qualities which have been of the highest public service. Of course every private business and every public depai't- ment is full of the most honorable and efficient men who are not college-bred, and their number is so great that there is some- times a disposition to think that the college is a dilettant retreat, and an enervating rather than a strengthening influence. But this impression is, as we have said, historically inaccurate, and no college man, whether he be freshman, or senior, or graduate, need doubt that he belongs to a company which has furnished the most efficient and illustrious leaders at every period of the national life. Hames op (sOLLEGES. The following information about our colleges is given in the New York Independent: Plarvard College was named after John Harvard, who, in 1638, left to the college £779 and a library of over three hundred books; Williams College was named after Colonel Ephraim Williams, a soldier of the old French War; Dartmouth College was named after Lord Dartmouth, who sub- scribed a lai-ge amount and was President of the first Board of Trustees; Brown University received its name from Nicholas Brown, who was a graduate of the college, went into business, became very wealthy, and endowed the college very largely; Bowdoin College was named after Governor Bowdoin, of Maine; Yale College was named after Elihu Yale, who made very liberal donations to the college. A Rabbi of little learning, and less modesty, usurped all the discourse at table, which led one person to ask another if he did not take him for a great scholar. The answer was, "For aught I know he may be learned; but I never heard learning make so great a noise." ELEMENTARY EDUCATION. 181 eLBMBNTAI^Y CDUGAIPION. BY A. G. HAYOOOD, D.D. I plead for public schools for elementary instruction, sup- ported or aided by government, as the only adequate instru- mentality for securing what the people need for their own good, what government must have for its safety and efficiency — uni- versal education. I believe in the taxation of the whole people for the elementa/y education of the whole people, for the reason that in no other way can the whole people be educated. It is late in the day to make an argument on this subject; the majority of the American people have pronounced in favor of the public school system. Few questions have been more de- bated; about few questions have there been more divergent opinions; few questions have been more definitely settled. Many wise and good people have maintained, and do main- tain, that government, in the nature of things, has nothing to do with education — that the State has no educational function w^hatever. At one time this was my own opinion, and I maintained it as best I could, saying, no doubt, some very absurd things. On this subject, as on some others, what I once believed and main- tained is inconsistent with what I now believe and maintain. The consistency of opinion that is changeless, where it is not rooted in infallibility, is death. Opinions should be in harmony with facts. We are not to argue about what is true in the nature of things alone; we may easily be mistaken about the nature of things. We are to con- sider also what is true as matters of fact; facts we may know, if we seek to know them. Whatever may be our a priori doc- trines of government, as a matter of fact, education in the ele- ments of learning is, in this country, a function of government. The people, whose right it was, have made education a function of government by saying that it is. It is said of many who sorely need education, "They do not want it." This may be so; but it is not proposed to provide them with the means of education because they wish it, but because they need it, and because their partners in the govern- ment — their fellow-citizens — cannot afford for them to remain 132 EDUCATIONAL DEPART3IENT. in ignorance. Many things law requires that some people da not wish. Whatever endangers the peace or health of the community' must be abated, even if government has to come between parents and children, whether it be some nuisance that corrupts the air, or some ignorance that corrupts society. The State does not ask leave of a citizen to vaccinate his children to prevent the spread of small-pox, or to disinfect his premises if they threaten to propagate cholera germs; nor does it ques- tion its right to provide for the expense of securing the common safety by common taxation. Some will say the analogy in these illustrations involves the doctrine of compulsory education. I believe that it does. I believe that compulsory education is the logical conclusion of the argument that establishes a common school system sup- ported by government. I believe in the doctrine of compul- sory education. There should be appropriate pains and penal- ties for neglecting or refusing the means of elementary educa- tion provided by the State. At the very least there should b?- a reasonable educational test as determining the right to vote. The State should enact that, after a given time — say ten years from the passage of the law — no man should vote who cannot read and write. ^OLLBGE-BI^BD l^UBLIG 0)EN. It is claimed that solid facts will warrant the statement that of the whole number of Chief-justices, Presidents, Vice-presi- dents, and Secretaries of State, from the founding of the Re- public down to 1861 — fifty-five in all — forty-two, or more than three-fourths, had 2-eceived a collegiate education; and that of the twenty-six United States Senators from Connecticut prior to 1861, twenty were graduates of colleges; and of the twenty- eight United States Senators from Massachusetts prior to the same date, twenty-three had been collegiately educated. Uagation School. The vacation school of Boston, an experiment of Mrs. Hem- enway and Mrs. Shaw, allows voluntary attendance. There are no marks, no rules about tardiness or absence, no lessons from Books. The children may go or may stay away, as they please, and the result, last year was a h.rge attendance. VALUE OF EDUCATION. 133 UaliUe op €dU6AIPI0N. BY WILLIAM MATHEWS, LI<.D. It is the meanest of all the cants of ignorance to assert that there is any incompatibility between business or practical tal- ente and scholarship — for the successful booby to cry down ac- complishments in the counting-room or the carpenter's shop. As if cultivated intelligence, added to refinement of manners and systematic order, should accomplish less than undisciplined native power! — as if the Damascus blade lost its edge by being polished, or as if the supporting column of an edifice were less strong because its shaft is fluted and its capital carved! We believe that it might easily be shown that a liberal education, which is only another name for intelligence, knowledge, intel- lectual force, promotes success in every honest calling, even though that calling be to cut cheese or open oysters — or, even lowen still, to make political speeches and electioneer for Con- gress. But, suppose that it were not so; that it did not con- tribute one jot or tittle to success, in the vulgar sense of that word. Were men designed to be mere merchants, farmers, or mechanics, and nothing more? Man is not a means, but an end. He claims a generous culture, not because he is to follow the plow, wield the sledge, or buy and sell wheat or cotton, but be- cause he is a man. The fact that the ordinary pursuits of life are widely removed from liberal studies is of itself a cogent reason why those who are to be incessantly dealing with mate- rial forms should early foster a taste for those studies which, in the language of another, "reclaim men from the dominion of the senses, recruit their overtasked energies, quicken within them the sensibilities of taste, and invite them to the contem- plation of whatever is lovely in the sympathies of our common nature, splendid in the conquests of intellect, or heroic in the trials of virtue." Those who clamor for the so-called " practical education " for- get-that, antecedent to his calling as merchant, engineer, or car- penter, there is another profession, more important still, for which every man should be trained — " the profession of human- ity." As Rousseau, in his famous treatise on education, which contains many golden truths imbedded among its errors, justly 134 EDUCATIONAL DEPARTMENT. says: " Nature has destined us for the offices of human life, ante- cedently to our destination concerning society. To live is the profession I would teach him [a youth]. Det him first he a man; he will, on occasion, as soon become any thing else that a man ought to be as any person whatever. Fortune may remove him from one place to another as she pleases; he will always be found in his place." We believe in "practical" education inpst sincerely; only we would use the word in its broadest and most comprehenwve sense. We call that education practical which educes all a man's faculties, and gives him possession of himself. We call that practical education which enables a man to bring all his faculties to bear at once with energy and earnestness on any given point, and to keep them fastened on that point until the task he has set for them is accomplished. We call that ed- ucation practical which gives a man a clear, conscious view of his own opinions and judgments, and enables him to develop them with fullness, to express them with eloquence, and to urge them with force. That is practical education which t«aches him to see things as they are, to go right to the point, to disen- tangle a skein of thought, to detect what is sophistical, and to discard what is irrelevant. That is practical education which enables him to estimate with precision the worth of an argu- ment, to detect the hidden relations of things, to trace effects to their causes, to grasp a mass of detached and dislocated facts, reduce them to order and harmony, and marshal .them under the sway of some general law. That is practical education which enables him to know his own weakness, to command his own passions, to adapt himself to circumstances, to perceive the sig- nificance of actions, events, and ojoinions. That is practical education which opens his mind, expands it, and refines it; fits it to digest, master, and use its knowledge; gives it flexibility, tact, method, critical exactness, sagacity, discrimination, re- source, address, and expression. Such a man is full of resources, and prepared for any event. Misfortunes cannot kill him, nor disasters depress him. He or- ganizes victory out of defeat, and converts obstacles into step- ping-stones to success. Life to him is never stale, flat, and unprofitable; but always fresh, stimulating, opulent. In the words of the polished writer already quoted, " He is at home in any society; he has common ground with every class; he knows TEACHING BEFORE LEARNING. 135 when to speak, and when to be silent; he is able to converse, he is able to listen; he can ask a question pertinently, and gain a lesson seasonably when he has nothing to impart himself; he is ever ready, yet never in the way; he is a pleasant companion, and a comrade you can depend upon; he knows when to be serious, and when to trifle, and he has a sure tact which enables him to trifle with gracefulness and to be serious with eflTect. He has the repose of a mind which lives in itself while it lives in the world, and which has resources for its happiness at home when it cannot go abroad. He has a gift which serves him in public and supports him in retirement, without which good fortune is but vulgar, and with which failure and disappoint- ment have a charm." SbAGHING BBPOI^E liBAI^NING. A lad of fourteen, of an exceptionally nervous temperament, became a convert at a revival in a camp-meeting. Instead of taking his quickened love for God home with him to make him a better son and brother, and a more diligent scholar, he in- sisted upon going into the pulpit to preach. The singularity of his youthful appearance, the wild fervor of his appeals, drew crowds to hear him. The "boy evangelist" became an attrac- tion in the sect to which he belonged. He was sent from one congregation to another, producing wherever he went a feverish excitement. The inevitable result followed. He was but a child ; without experience, knowledge, or even observation. There could be no substance in his sermons; they were only wild, incoherent cries, which excited his own emotional nature to the uttermost. Finding, however, that they began to fail in their effect on his hearers, he adopted certain eccentricities of behavior to secure attention — such as running up and down the aisles, and poising himself on one leg. In a short time his actions degen- erated into buffoonery, and it was found that the lad's mind was impaired; the long nervous strain had unseated his reason. This w^as an extreme case, probably. But there is a marked tendency in American youth to become teachers before they have been learners. Mere babies of seven or eight write Stories for the papers, and lads who are little older edit journals. Even 136 EDUCATIONAL DEPARTMENT. for the religious world books are wi'itten in which immaculate little saints convert godless mothers and drunken fathers. Now, for one such case as this in actual life, there are thousands of faulty little ones who need to be taught obedience and respect for their parents. There are very few children, too, whose brains will bear the forcing and unnatural light of newspaper notoriety. Wholesoine mental gi'owth is found in the quiet ■ and seclusion of a pure home-life. FjESBI^YBD FOI^GBS. It is often the case that success in life depends upon what may be called reserved forces or reserved power. The individ- ual has in store certain physical, moral, or intellectual forces, which he brings into action whenever they are needed. The late Benjamin Disi'aeli, on making his maiden speech in the House of Commons, was met with shouts of derisive laugh- ter. In closing, he said: "I have begun many things, and have often succeeded at last. I* will sit down now, but the time will come when you will hear me." The time came when the House of Commons not only heard him, but acknowledged him as its leader and as the prime min- ister. Daniel Webster possessed great reserve power. His mind was not only well fitted to consider any question in law or statesmanship which might be submitted, but it was well stored w^ith knowledge. His famous speech against Hayne is a fine example of the vastness of the intellectual foixes he had in reserve. The speech (the first of the two) was delivered after very brief prepara- tion; but, in the wealth of knowledge it displayed, in the close- ness of its logic, in its beauty of style and eloquence, it has seldom, even if ever, been equaled in American oratory. This reserve power of Disraeli and of Webster contributed to the success of their work. The means of attaining this power is chiefly to read much and thoroughly, and, what is more essential, to think constantly and carefully. Train the mind well, store it with learning, and one is pre- pared with a stock of intellectual forces which he can bring into play whenever tiie demand is made. deaf scholars. 137 Zealous 0)en the Suggesspul Ones. As far as natural endowments determine, the zealous men are par eminence the successful ones. But they have a beset- ting sin which, being intrinsic, is therefore, perhaps, not quite a sin — bigotry. Except in the case of great creative minds, it is necessary to be somewhat partial in order to succeed in affairs. Broad culture is seldom efficient in any immediate way; narrow, intense purpose accomplishes the hard enterprises of .the world, and is every-where at a premium among those who are inter- ested in getting things done. I have a respect for bigots and partisans, and believe that the world owes a great debt to intol- erant, one-sided men. It must have them; it could not push its reforms, or get its rough, unpleasant work done else. Narrow men are edged men, men of single and determined purposes; and in their purposes they are apt to succeed. The liberal, the spirits of insight, really rule all, though they are not always seen to do so; they create the thoughts that direct the world's forces. But they turn over their thoughts to armies of stirring partisans, who adjust by force of arms the claims of opposing truths. The philosopher would prefer to wait for evolution, and to let things settle themselves quietly; but the reformers cannot wait for this. So they organize boards, wage religious wars, and piously burn the witches. There is a sad waste of force in these proceedings; but men promise to become wiser in course of time, and meanwhile the machine creaks slowly along, and some progress is made. Deaf Sgholai^s. Dr. Gelle, of Pai'is, has found that twenty to twenty-five per cent, of children hear only within a limited range. A practical result of this discovery is that children are now placed at such a distance from the teacher's desk as will correspond with their strength of hearing. The matter does not appear to have been thought of before, but its obvious importance is now likely to attract attention from our teachers. In a very learned paper, describing anatomically the effect of over-pressure at school, it was lately sensibly said that " it is not so much study, as distasteful study, that proves injurious." 138 EDUCATIONAL DEPARTMENT, BY ADELAIDE A. PROCTER. Words are lighter than the cloud foam Of the restless ocean spray; Vainer than the trembling shadow That the next hour steals away: By the fall of summer rain-drops Is the air as deeply stirred; And the rose leaf that we tread on Will outlive a word. Yet on the dull silence breaking With a lightning flash, a word, Bearing endless desolation On its blighting wings, I heard. Earth can forge no keener weapon, Dealing surer death and pain, And the cruel echo answered Through long years again. I have known one word hang star-like O'er a dreary waste of years, And it only shone the brighter Looked at through a mist of tears, While a weary wanderer gathered Hope and heart on life's dark way. By its faithful promise shining Clearer day by day. I have known a spirit calmer Than the calmest lake, and clear As the heavens that gazed upon it, With no wave of hope or fear; But a storm had swept across it. And its deepest depths were stirred, Never, never more to slumber, Only by a word. UNNECESSARY WORDS. 139 Unnegbssai^y ^of^ds. The habit of using more words than lare needed in the ex- pression of thought is almost universal. Sometimes it takes the form of employing unmeaning exclamations; sometimes that of putting into a sentence words or phrases which do not add to its force or make it clearer; sometimes that of construct- ing long phrases when short ones would be better. As an example of the first, let any one make a record of the number of times he will hear sentences begun with a "Well!" or an "O!" or a "Say!" or some other idle word, during the next hour after reading this article. To say, "Well, I don't think so," means exactly the same as " I don't think so." " Say, will you come with me?" The per- son addressed will be likely to " say," whether he is commanded to do so or not. Perhaps there are no more common faults of speech than the unnecessary use of the word "got," and of the phrases "you know," and "says he," or "says I.*' A story is told of a Frenchman who had been talking with a lady much given to the use of "says he" and its sister phrases. " Do you understand me?" she asked. "Oui, oui," he replied; "but vat ees dat sezai^ sezeef Ees it vat you call to swear ? " The same Frenchman, or another, became much irritated with a gentleman's "you knows," and at last interrupted him — "Pardon, monsieur, but you say to me, 'You know, you know.' But I do not know. If, zen, I do not know, why say you to me, 'You know?'" How many of us say " I have got it," when we mean " I have it?" The inveterate use of "got" is illustrated by the manner in which a man once aroused his wife in the morning: " Get up, Jane! Breakfast has got to be got, and you have got to get up and get it." Bad habits of speech are much easier to acquire than to aban- don. One hears "well," "got," and "says he" from a hundred mouths, and unconsciously drops into the habit of using them. As proof of this we suggest that families make an agreement to keep a record for one day, or for one week, of the number of times each member uses either one or all of the needless 140 EDUCATIONAL DEPARTMENT. words we have mentioned. We venture the prediction that if the account be faithfully kept, few of our readers will have an average of less than ten black marks a day, however hard they may try to avoid welling and you -knowing. It is no mean accomplishment for a pei'son to speak properly. To do so it is necessary to have a knowledge of the meaning of the words used and their proper pronunciation. Ignorance of either will result in mortifying mistakes. These may be avoided by consulting a dictionary and giving heed to the tongue. A coi'respondent, calling attention to " slips of the tongue " which he has noted, says: I am surprised every day at the carelessness shown by people in talking. My grocer praises his " salary " when he means his celery; my minister calls partition-walls "petition-walls," and riotousness " righteousness." My neighbor tells me of a friend who died " intestine," without a will — meaning intestate. In my hearing a revolutionist has been called a "revolver;" constellation, "consternation;" and sedentary, "sedimentary;" divertisement has been defined as meaning "advertisement;" a person has been said to have the " celluloid " instead of varioloid. More common words, also, have been strangely mixed up, such as "except" for accept, "receipt" for recipe, "rise" for raise, " set" for sit, "laid " for lay, and scores of others. In fact, I might multiply examples almost without limit, for such mis- takes are occurring every-where. Proper names, too, suffer, and I am one of the frequent vic- tims. My own name is Mosher, but peojile will persist in call- ing me " Mouser," despite my best efforts to prevent it. 0)BANING OP 050I^DS. The w^ord "watch" was originally used as a term of endear- ment, similar to " darling." The word " wench " formerly was not used in the low and vulgar acceptation that it now is. "Damsel" was the appellation of young ladies of distinction. "Knave" once signified a servant. "Villain" was a bondman. "Pedant" was a schoolmaster. Many words have deteriorated, and jjained a sinister meaning at first foreign to" them. SIX LITTLE WORDS. 141 The word "cunning," for example, formerly meant nothing^ sinister or imderhanded. *' Demure" is another of this class. It was used by earlier writers without the insinuation, which is now almost latent in it, that the external shows of modesty and sobriety rest on no corresponding realities. "Facetious" origi- nally meant urbane, but has now so degenerated as to have ac- quired the sense of buffoonery. "Indolence" originally signi- fied freedom from passion or pain, but now implies a condition of languid non-exertion. " Insolent" was only unusual. "Gos- sip" was a sponsor at baptisms. A poet is a person who writes poetry; and according to the good old custom, a proser was ix person who wrote prose, and simply the antithesis of poet. The word has now a sadly different signification. Six UmwhE li3o^DS. vSix little words do claim me every day— Shall, must, and can, with ivill, and ought, and may. Shall is the law within inscribed by heaven, The goal to which I by myself am driven. Must is the bound not to be overpast, Where by the world and nature I'm held fast. Can is the measure of my personal dower Of deed and art, science and practiced power. Will is my noblest crown, my brightest, best — Freedom's my own seal upon my soul imprest; Ought the inscription on the seal set fair On Freedom's open door, a bolt 'tis there. And lastly, may, 'mong many courses mixed, The vaguely possible by the moment fixed. Shall, must, and can, with will, and ought, and may — These are the six that claim me every day. Only when God doth teach, do I know each day, I shall, I must, I can, I %vill, I ought, I may. A book is a living voice. It is a spirit walking on the face of the earth. It continues to be the living thought of a person separated from us by space and time. Men pass away; monu- ments crumble into dust — what remains and survives is human thought. 142 EDUCATIONAL DEPARTMENT. fiN IGNOI^ANIP SCHOIiAI^. No defense need ever have been made for the study of " the cHssics," if graduates had always understood that these are helps and means to a liberal education, instead of making them the main thing. As a mental discipline and as immensely enriching one's knowledge of his own language, and his power of language, the study and drill in the Latin and Greek is an invaluable privilege to every true scholar and every worker in the "learned professions." The trouble is that too many col- lege students have allowed these studies to take the place of a common-school education, and have thus brought their classic acquirements into contempt, as they simply present a spectacle of "learned ignorance" when tested in actual business. Ac- cordingly we can understand Horace Greeley's disdain of "lib- erally educated" young men. He had tried some of them, and found them wanting. An anecdote told by the Hon. Oliver H. Smith, of Indiana, illustrates the foolish mistake we have just spoken of. "The student [of law] should have a good, sound English education. He should spell well, read well, and write well, and understand the principles of arithmetic and English grammar. The higher branches may be added, but I do not hold that in this country a knowledge of the dead languages and a famil- iarity with the classics is essential fo the student, nor even to his success as a practitioner, although I do not object to their study where a favoi'able opportunity is afforded. But I do mean to say that I have known many graduates of colleges who were so deficient in the English department of their education as to be disqualified for students in my office. "A fine-looking young man called upon me one day, desiring to study law with me. I inquired of him as to his education. " ' I am a graduate of an Eastern college,' said he. ' I under- stand Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; I stood number two in a large class.' " ' Do you spell well? ' " ' I presume so, but I never thought much of that' " ' Spell balance.' "'B-a-1, bal, 1-a-n-c-e, lance, balance.' "'That won't do. Do you read well?' PAGANINI, THE GENIUS. 143 "'Certainly.' '"Read this.' My name is Norvel on the Grampian Hills '- " ' What was his name off the Grampian Hills? Do you write well?' " ' No, I never could write much of a hand. Indeed, I never tried to learn. Our great men out East can scarcely write their names so they can be read.' "'Let me see you write.' "He scratched off some caricatures looking like turkey- tracks. "'That is sufficient. Your education is too imperfect for a lawyer. The dead languages may be dispensed with, but spell- ing, reading, and writing cannot be.' "I advised him to go to one of our common schools and begin his education over again, and he might yet qualify him- self for the study of law." ©AGANINI, THE GSNIUS. A young man who has imbibed the notion that he is a genius is apt to lose his balance. The flattery of friends makes him so vain that he imagines that he, at least, may attain without labor. He ignores mental discipline, because it involves hard study. He trusts to his genius to push him up, and sinks. Scores of young men go to pieces at the beginning of the voyage, when they might have entered port with every sail drawing had they taken theiy departure fi^om Carlyle's defini- tion of genius: A capacity for infinite painstaking. All Europe hailed Paganini as a genius. During forty years he reigned the monarch of the violin, with no rival near his throne. If any one was ever born a violinist, he was. As soon as he could hold the violin he began to play it. The worshipers in the churches of Genoa often looked toward the choir to see a child playing on a violin almost as large as himself. His genius was phenomenal. It gave him capacity, and urged him to develop it by intense application. His precocity aston- ished those from whom he sought instruction; but they were amazed at the zeal and rapidity .with which he worked at their 144 EDUCATIONAL DEPARTMENT. lessons. He soon exhausted their ability to instruct, and so passed on from one great teacher to another. He went to Rolla, the great musician of Parma. The master was ill in bed, and Paganini waited in the ante-i-oom. Some sheets of difficult music were lying on the table, alongside of a violin. The boy looked at the music, and began playing it. "Who is the great master playing in my ante-room?" asked Rolla, raising himself to listen. "A mere boy! impossible!" he exclaimed, on being told that the player was a mere lad, who wished to become a pupil. When Paganini appeared before the invalid's bed, the master said, "I can teach you nothing." The boy had practiced ten or twelve hours a day. He would try passages over and over again in different ways, with such perseverance that at nightfall he was exhausted by fatigue. He composed as well as practiced, writing music so difficult that he could not play it until he had mastered it by incessant practice. Let the reader note the woi-king of the boy's genius. It prompted him to compose a hard task to be mastered by him- self. It kept him up to his work day after day, until he had mastered the task. The boy had a capacity for infinite pains- taking. The boy's genius made him thorough. Faraday used ta begin his investigation of a phenomenon by learning all that other scientists had written about it. With similar thorough- ness young Paganini acquired the knowledge of what other violinists had done or left undone. He would have knowledge as well as art, so that he might not fail through ignorance or plagiarism. He worked hard to produce new effiscts and combinations. He sighed for a new world, because he had explored the old. His explorations gave him his point of departure. He sailed from it and discovered a world in which he had no master, no equal, and no follower. His art was born with him, but he developed it by study and practice. When he died, men said he had carried his secret with him to the grave. It may be so; but the intelligent reader of his life discerns that Paganini's ability to master details ac- counts in part for his success. The young man who thinks himself a genius may prove its truth by as close application and persevering labor, but not otherwise. the new governess. 145 She Hew Goyei^nbss. This is a talc of the "good old days," when the rich grew richer and the poor poorer. Alas! that some should still sigh for the return of such a time. The scene is laid in the beautiful Valley of the Tennessee, near the city of Iluntsville, Ala. It was early in the year i860, and Stfiphen Wilson was in the full tide of prosperity. Reared by a kind and judicious uncle, married to the woman of his early choice, and whom he tenderly loved, the past winter had wit- nessed the death of this uncle and the vesting of his property in this man and his heirs forever. What more could Providence have done for her favorite than she had done for Stephen Wil- son.'' To him, before whom for the first time this beautiful valley is spread out in the month of May, there seems no nearer approach to an earthly paradise than he here beholds. All nature is alive with the thousand perfumes of flowering shrubs, trees, and ripening fruits. Already the peach and the plum are approach- ing perfection. Growing crops spread on every hand. The grape and the fig grow with the same luxuriance as in Palestine. The orchards of apples on Sand Mountain, but a few miles dis- tant, yield a supply of winter fruit, and the summer varieties can be grown successfully in the valley. Beautiful springs of clear, cold water abound, while the fertile soil produces abun- dantly, with comparatively little labor for its tillage. The egg- plant, the cantaloupe, the water-melon, the pepper, the tomato, and many garden vegetables whose names are hardly known at the North are here grown in abundance and great perfection. Yet the climate is not ti^opical. So elevated is the country, and so high are the surrounding mountains, that a most delight- ful climate prevails throughout the year. Seldom does the ther- mometer show above eighty degrees in midsummer, while it is not rare to pass a winter without the fall of snow upon the ground. All the crops of a temperate or even a Northern lati- tude can be freely and successfully produced. Two crops of Irish potatoes in one year are easily raised upon the same ground, and yield bountifully. Wheat, oats, rye, Indian corn, millet, clover, and also cotton, grow easily and abundantly. A large, fertile, and well-stocked plantation, with money at 10 146 EDUCATIONAL DEPARTMENT. interest, a large circle of friends, a lovely wife, beautiful chil- dren, the finest of climates, and a contented heart! Alas! not quite contented! Near Stephen Wilson lived John McFarland, a Scotchman by birth, a miller by occupation, and also a man of wealth, ac- quired by hard labor and careful economy. Between the two the gi'eatest of friendship existed, but the most positive differ- ence in political views. McFarland had frankly told his friend that the doctrine of " State-rights," upon which the Southern States based their belief in the right of secession, would never be acquiesced in by the large majointy who opposed it as untrue. Warm discussions frequently sprung up when they met; but their friendship remained unshaken, although the breach be- tween them, politically, widened daily. Two ladies had been successively employed as teachers of his little girls by Mr. Wilson, both of whom had proved un- satisfactory, when John McFarland proposed to send for a niece of his, living in the State of New York, to act as govern- ess in his friend's family. This lady arrived about the first of May. Our engraving shows her first introduction. The in- creasing political agitation at this time caused much apprehen- sion on the part of all Southern people who received one fi*om the North into their family. Mrs. Wilson gives positive instruc- tions against the mention of forbidden topics to her little girls, and feels re-assured by the willing assent of their new teacher. Miss Maude Campbell had first met her uncle, John McFar- land, and, by him cautioned and urged to discretion, she made a most favorable impression upon Stephen Wilson and his wife. It was not many weeks until she enjoyed their fullest confi- dence, and cemented a friendship which the dark clouds of war, soon to burst and bring disaster and ruin, were not sufficient to sever. The little girls clung to her as to an aunt, or an elder sister, and obeyed each command, though breathed as the gen- tlest wish. The slaves about the household revered and hon- ored her as they would have done a distinguished guest. The high-bred young gentlemen of Huntsville and the surrounrling plantations courted her acquaintance as a favor, and their sisters consulted her with confidence in her educated judgment. Thus closed the old year and opened the new, while the rum- ble of approaching war grew daily in loudness, and none were A SHORT RECKONING. 147 permitted to take neutral ground. Stephen Wilson was not silent. His voice was heard in the repeated pledge of his time, his money, and his life for the cause of freedom. And these were no idle words. When once his State decided to separate from the Union, he threw himself into the struggle, and as the colonel of a full regiment participated in one of the first battles of the war. How swiftly the scene changes! In a few short months the husband and father had passed away — killed in battle! The new governess had returned to her Northern home. The gen- tle wife and mother, with her children, removed to the town for safety. Shortly afterward the stately mansion was burned to the ground. Her money, invested in Confederate bonds, soon ceased to bring an income. Her slaves, freed by the war, de- serted the plantation, and her income from that source came to an end. But for the generosity of her old neighbor, John Mc- Farland, she would have suffered for the bare necessities of life. The war closes! The bare land, grown up in weeds, fences swept away. Confederate bonds worthless! John McFarland was bankrupted, his mill burned to the ground, and his land swallowed up by a mortgage! There is little that remains of the beauteous picture first presented to us. Ah, yes, the glorious climate, the fertile soil, the beautiful valley, all remain! The track of war is now nearly obliterated, but its memories and effects yet remain. p Shoi^jp I^EGI^ONING. The position of a teacher who takes charge of a bad school, where every predecessor has failed, is a critical one. He will hardly be equal to it unless he is ready and able to punish inso- lence and insubordination promptly and with a rough hand. A tolerably athletic young man took a certain school to teach years ago in Western New York, after a number of pedagogues had tried it and given it up in despair. The "big boys" had driven the teacher away invariably, and the discouragement was so complete the first day that they never undertook a second edition. • This young man took hold with a full knowledge of the dif- ficulty, and with a hope that he could succeed. He was mild- mannered, and he opened the school the first day with a plead- V 148 EDUCATIONAL DEPARTMENT. ing smile on his lips that made even the small boys reckless. He was taking the names of the children, and progressed with- out difficuly till he came to John Tarbox, the ringleader of the unruly ones, and the boy who always gave the signal for trounc- ing the " master." ■ The new teacher approached him with a sweet smile on his face, and said: "Now, will you tell me your name, please?" The boy leaned back in his seat, put his feet over the top of the desk, and looked cross-eyed at the new teacher, while all the school roared. '' Please tell me your name," repeated the teacher, pleadingly, and without noticing this rudeness. "Well," drawled the fellow, "sometimes they call me Bob, and sometimes they call me Pete, and sometimes they call me somethin' else, but you better not call me any thing!" The mild-looking teacher had been expecting all this; there he had the advantage. He had prepai'ed himself for a tight — not a fight for a minute, but for an hour or a day, if need be; he had been in a manner trained for it, and so just as the last words were out of the boy's mouth he dealt the big lubber a blow between the eyes that stunned him, and then, grasping him by the collar, dragged him headlong over the seats, stood him up on the floor with a jam, and thundered out, "What's your name?" "John Tarbox!" exclaimed the boy, promptly, and with his eyes fairly bulging from his head. "Very well," said the teacher. "Take your seat, John," and John took it. There was no more difficulty, and at the end of the season that school was said to be the best in the country. fl I^OPBPUli <9ASE. President Webb, of Mississippi College, was interviewed by sl young man who wanted to go to school. "Well," said the Professor, "wlAt do you know?" "Nothing," responded the young man. "Well, you are just four years ahead of some of the other students. It takes them four years to learn what you kuoiw to start with. Your prospects are fine, sir." THE FAULT OF THE AGE. 149 <9HB FAULII op the fiGB. BY ELLA WHEELEB. The fault of the age is a mad endeavor To leap to heights that were made to climb; By a burst of strength, or a thought that is clever, We plan to outwit and forestall Time. We scorn to wait for the thing worth having; We want high-noon at the day's dim dawn; We find no pleasure in toiling and saving, As our forefathers did in the good times gone. We force our roses before their season To bloom and blossom, that we may wear; And then we wonder and ask the reason Why perfect buds are so few and rare. We crave the gain, but despise the getting; We want wealth not as reward, but dower; And the strength that is wasted in useless fretting Would fell a forest or build a tower. To covet the prize, yet to shrink from the winning; To thirst for glory, yet fear the fight — Why, what can it lead to at last but sinning, To mental languor and moral blight? Better the old, slow way of striving And counting small gains when the year is done. Than to use our forces all in contriving. And to grasp for pleasures we have not won. The worst and most hopeless ignorance is the ignoVance which mistakes itself for knowledge. The knowledge that is least, and likeliest to remain least, is the knowledge ignorant of its own ignorance. And this state of mind, alas, is not con- fined to the young! It is of hardy growth, and sometimes out- lives the frosts and snows of seventy winters. 150 EDUCATIONAL DEPARTMENT. Y}OVI TO ©BA6H A ^LASS. A bright boy, who has an exceptionally bright and earnest teacher, was giving to a friend an account of the modus operandi of his teacher in presenting the lesson. The boy-dialect pre- vails in his story, and makes the picture all the more graphic: *' First, she pitches in with something none of us ever heard of, to get our attention, and somehow paves the way by it to the lesson, and there we sit with ears all up, wondering what will come next. Then she begins to fire brickbats, all of 'em found in the lesson. She somehow gets in all we've been doing and thinking about during the week, and has something to fit every fellow in the class. Slap goes one brickbat, and I know that hit Joe, and I laugh to see him wince. Then there is another for Lew, and he deserves it too. A third is for those silly girls, and I hope they've sense enough to understand that they are the ones meant. Halloo! that's for me, and it hits hard, with a kind of Nathan to David air of 'Thou art the man.' My face gets hot, and I peep out of the corner of mv eyes, expecting that everybody is looking at me. But they are all too busy dodging their own missiles to take notice of any- body else. And that's the way she goes on, making it lively, I tell you. But she does it in such' a loving way that we all like it, and are anxious to be on hand next Sunday to see what new things she has to say. And I tell you what it is, there aren't any sleepy or inattentive scholars in our class." What the boy thus describes in his own peculiar rhetoric is what we call true teaching. We happen to know that this teacher is one of the most successful soul-winners. fiSl{ Othef^s. While young, get help in selecting reading-matter. It pays. So much time is wasted by the perusal of what we care nothing for in'the end, and is, as any one would have told us who had read the book, not worth reading. It is not a difficult matter to learn much concerning books, if we but take pains to inquire, without reading them. Of coursef we cannot always be influenced by others in our choice, but many times we can be aided by them. 4(ETgHES * FOR ^ PARENTS. ©Ar^ENTAL I^BSPONSIBILIIIIY. BY W. W. BEEESE. '.•^~ OU may make of your child what you please. You will certainly make of your child whatever he becomes, whether the re- sult pleases you or not. Said a celebrated French infidel, "Give me the first five years of a child's life, and I will so fix his opinions that no amount of religious teaching will ever affect him." The mobility of a child's mind is so great that early impressions are never effaced, and the testimony of many a man has been that his mother's prayers and pious example have saved him, although she passed away in his early youth. It is well authenticated that the character and physical appearance have both been greatly modified and changed by a foster-*mother, or nurse, who never saw the child after it was two years old. The power of example is enormous, and what par- ents do will have greater weight in forming the child's character than all the good advice they can give. Hence, you ought to be extremely careful not to in- dulge in any mean act, or hypocrisy, or deceit of any (151) 152 SKETCHES FOR PARENTS. kind before a child. Children are sharper than you think; the}' notice every little thing that is out of the ordinary channel. The common sin of affectation, or pretense to being what one is not, is easily detected by a child. Backbiting, tale-bearing, and eavesdrop- ping, are common evils in many families which pass for well-conducted, moral, and even religious. The parents go on the plan of the horse-racing parson, who told his flock to "Do as I tell you, and not as I do!" But children are not apt to grow up with a high sense of morals under these circumstances. "Let us play we are married," said Httle Edith, "and I will bring my dolly and say. See baby, papa!" "Yes," replied Johnny, "and I will say, Don't bother me now; I want to look over the paper! " Children have strange ideas of grown folks' ways, now — don't they? But we have known a preacher with a family of boys who put them off in just that way whenever they crowded about him and asked for a moment's time. Can you wonder that those boys, now young men, are giving him a great deal of trouble with their wicked "ways? It is a matter of astonishment to a reflective mind that so many good men and good women are to be found in the world. A large portion of them have had little help from their parents toward forming good, sound, moral characters. The carelessness, the inconsiderateness, and inconsistency with which parents issue commands to their children is detest- able, to say the least. On the spur of the moment something is commanded, or a correction made, or reproof administered, which contains not a shadow of justice. But the parent is supreme law, judge, PARENTAL RESPONSIBILITY. 153 and executive officer all in one, and a hearing, decis- ion, and execution sometimes follow each other so rapidly that one's head swims to think of it. But, my dear parent, if you find that you have wronged your child, do not hesitate to beg his or her pardon, humbly and sincerely, and acknowledge the wrong. Take back and undo the harm as far as you can, and thus set an example of moral bravery which will dwell in your child's memory through all eternity. A powerful example for evil, in many of our Amer- ican homes, is the way servants are treated. Children learn an arrogance, an overbearing spirit, which ren- ders them disagreeable and unpopular all their lives. Cardan, praising the Venetian patricians, particu- larly notices their gracious and liberal manners to- ward their servants. " He recommends the utmost gentleness and humanity toward them. Of the noble warrior Vectius it was said: " He governs all who are subject to him less by authority than by reason. One would say he was rather the steward than the master of his house." Certainly, if for no other than selfish motives, we should adopt the same gentleness in our households. Gentleness, firmness, cheerfulness, evenness of tem- per, all go to make the character of a model parent. Make your home cheerful and beautiful if you would have beautiful children, and see them go out into the world and make you proud and happy by their lives. Teach your children, then, to love the beautiful. Give them a corner in the garden for flowers; encourage them to put it in the shape of hanging baskets; show them where they can best view the sunset; rouse them in the morning, not with the stern tune "To work," 154 SKETCHES FOR PARENTS. but with the enthusiastic "See the beautiful sunrise!" Buy for them beautiful pictures, and encourage them to decorate their rooms in his or her childish way. Give them an inch, and they will go a mile. Allow them the privilege, and they will make your home beautiful. Some of you may say this is all sentimental stuff, when you have to work so hard for daily bread; but one thing is certain: others, who have worked just as hard as you, have done these things successfully. It certainly will require little more time than you bestow in trying to keep up senseless " appearances " in some other direction. This is especially true of most moth- ers of daughters. The time wasted on senselessly "primping" is patent to every one. The most senseless folly of this age is "bangs" on girls and young women. Said a lady of wide influence and great judgment: "I cannot see why it should be so fashionable to wear bangs! I never hear a man praise the fashion, nor speak of bangs adding to any woman's good appearance. On the other hand, most men make fun of girls who wear their hair cut-off over their eyes. It certainly makes many otherwise good- looking girls very ugly and homely. I have heard some girls compared to apes and monkeys in their appearance, with their hair hanging down in their eyes." There are many other senseless things in modern female fashions, but we will only name one more. High-heeled shoes, and usually thin ones at that, cause more misery and death than any one thing else in the way of dressing. How shall we dress a child? If a boy, put on good PARENTAL RESPONSIBILITY. 165 warm, thick clothing in the winter, with solid, well- litting shoes, and let him run. If a girl, the same ad- vice holds good, only we would emphasize the last sentence, to let her run! You don't need to turn your children out on the streets in order to do this. If your door-yard is big enough, let them have it all to them- selves. Otherwise, the porch and hall, or a room in the house; and do let them shout, and jump, and ex- ercise! Then, when your girl gets older, don't think you must gird her up with a corset, and hang her skirts from her waist. Let her clothing hang from the shoulders until she is grown. And finally, if you want to spare your children from corns, cold feet, chilblains, and other diseases, don't put on elastic or other garters to stop the circulation of the blood. Fasten the stockings to the cMthing that hangs from the shoulders. Why not train up your bpys to follow the same pro- fession or business that you follow, always supposing that you have an honorable business and the one that you delight in? I know that this is directly opposed to all our American traditional usage; but is it wise? The best blacksmith we ever knew was the son of a blacksmith, and grew rich while his brothers, who never followed that occupation, made small fortune or success. The best mason said that his father and his grandfather were masons, and his son learned the trade and became a contractor and master-builder. Charles Spurgeon was the son and grandson of preach- ers. Our family physician is the son of a physician, and also the grandson, on his father's side, of a well- known physician. John Adams was President of the United States. His son, John Quincy, also became 156 SKETCHES FOR PARENTS. President, and great talent yet remains in their de- scendants. The most successful farmers we have ever know^n descended from a long line of farmers. Certainly, all other things being equal, your boy will be best fitted to follow the business you follow when he is ready to go at his life's work, if you have had your heart in your w^ork enough to magnify it in his presence. A word to mothers who are bearing the burden of .responsibility alone. Do not despair, nor grow weary! Especially if you are a Christian, you have no cause to despair; and if you are not a Christian, your first duty is to become one. Do not wait, but for your child's sake, at least, come to the source of all wisdom, that you may receive guidance whence there is no pos- sibility of a mistake. Timothy was made ready and prepared for the Lord, and that, too, by his grand- mother and mother, while it is very likely that his father was even opposed to it, as he was a Greek. Let Christian mothers who, unfortunately, may have irreligious husbands, take encouragement. The charm of a pious mother's life is often too mighty for the evil influence of an ungodly father's example. Undbi^ the Shadow. "Well, what kind of a meeting to-night?" It was the minister's wife who asked this, as the minister entered the parsonage sitting-room direct from the Thursday evening prayer-meeting. The minister sighed wearily. "O, about as usual; Deacon Abbot asked the prayers of the Church for his son," A look of righteous indignation flashed into the ministei"'s wife's face. "Poor Deacon Abbot!" she sorrowfully exclaimed. UNDER THE SHADOW. 157 "Poor Hal, I should say," the minister answered. "Why, what do you mean?" she spiritedly rejoined, taking up the cudgel in behalf of the deacon. "What do you mean,' Deacon Abljot is a bright and shining light, surely. His prayers and exhortations bespeak him to be a most saintly man. I think he is greatly to be pitied in Hal's going to the bad as he does." "Prayers and exhortations shine only one way," answered the minister almost bitterly, "and" — But here, on the principle that a thought of angels causes sound of the rustle of their wings, or that speaking of a less admirable being is certain to bring him behind the door, came an interruption in the person of the talked -of deacon himself. "I felt that I must unburden my troubles to somebody, Brother Harrison," he said. "That young scapegrace is bring- ing down my gray hair in sorrgw to the grave. I'm ready to wish he'd never been born. To-night, while I've been in the courts of Zion serving the Lord, he's been down to Turner's serving the evil one. It seems pretty hard, when I've labored in the kingdom for five-and-forty years, giving my testimony eveiy-where, and not withholding my substance from the spread of the gospel, to have my child defy me like this, and set his feet to destruction. I've threatened the boy, and expostulated with him; but I might as well talk to the wind or the rain, he's that headstrong and unmanageable. O dear! O dear! O wretched man that I am! " And the deacon groaned and wrung his hands. After the wail and the call were ended, the minister pro- ceeded to don overcoat and hat. "Where are you going?" surprisedly inquired the minister's wife. " To look for the lost sheep gone astray," answered the shep- herd of souls, passing into the street. Down through the heart of the village he took his way to Turner's saloon, where nightly, amidst the shuffle of cards, the clink of glasses, the ribald jests and maudlin laughter of wicked men, Hal Abbot might be found. By a fortunate coincidence, just as the minister passed the building Hal came out, and started in the direction of his home. Earlier than usual he had left the place, and, as not always, was quite himself. 158 SKETCHES FOR PARENTS. The minister seeing him, though himself unnoticed by Hal, turned and, retracing his footsteps, presently joined the young fellow. In outward appearance he was a goodly specimen of young manhood. His bright, handsome face carried, in the moonlight, a winning grace. It was indeed a woful pity that, with all his inborn attractiveness and ability, he should at twenty choose to be walking with rapid steps the downward path. Pleasantly the minister accosted him, then linked lais own arm through his, and as they strolled along chatted cheerily on indifferent subjects. Hal evidently expected a sermon with a personal application, and was consequently rather cold and unresponsive. At length, however, his companion's urbanity won upon him, and before he realized it, with so much tact was the conversation managed, he was telling his story. "It began with my very life, Mi\ Harrison," he said. "I re- member when I was a mere baby being pushed away from my father's knee with a frown and an impatient gesture. He never caressed me, he never smiled upon me, nor took the slightest interest in my play and amusements. My boyish romping and chatter made him nervous; he couldn't nor he wouldn't stand 'such an everlasting din,' and his entrance into the house became to me the signal for restraint and silence. I learned to feel his absence a relief, and to dread his presence. As I grew older he seemed to regard me simply as his tool, made for no other purpose than to do his work. He never encouraged me nor praised me, but on the slightest occasion, and without any occasion even, scolded and punished me. ' Spare the rod and spoil the child' was one of his favorite maxims, and he was for- ever talking about breaking my will. His pride led him to give me a respectable education, and that is about the only thing he ever did give me. Many a time I've been mortified with poor and old-fashioned clothes among well-dressed boys whose fathers were not so well-to-do as mine. I never had any money to spend, except for the barest necessities, and was held accountable for the outlay of every penny. So long as he could, he kept me bound to him in servile fear, and when I got old enough to dare to break my bonds, I naturally made the most of my liberty. "He thinks now that I'm going straight to ruin, asks the UNDER THE SHADOW. 159 prayers of the Church in my behalf, gets all the pious old hypo- crites in the town to 'labor' with me, sets himself up as a martyr in being the father of such a poor devil of a son, and declares heUl give his whole property to the missionary socie- ties if I don't immediately mend my ways. Perhaps I am going to ruin — and I don't care much if I am — but he has him- self to thank for it, and my blood will be on his garments in the day of judgment — should there ever be a day of judgment. If my mother had lived" (the young fellow's hard tone soft- ened a little), "or I had had a sister, or there had been in my home the thinnest atmosphere of love and sympjlthy, it would have been different. But the old house is duller than a jail, and the old man uglier than Satan; so I go" (nodding over his shoulder toward Turner's) "where things are livelier, and folks more agreeable. "There, sir," after a brief pause, giving a sarcastic laugh, "I've drawn his picture to the life — the 'godly Deacon Abbot' — that's what people call him — who is a pillar in the Church, and prays and exhorts so fluently, and gives his dollars by the score to convert the heathen. Fireside piety appears to be at a discount with nineteenth century saints. Deliver me from Christians, if he is a sample" — and again the young man's derisive laughter broke on the solemn stillness of the moonlit night. With an ache in his own heart, the minister reasoned and pleaded long and earnestly with misguided Hal. Reporting the interview on his return to the parsonage, the pastor remarked, with rather unclerical heat, that his first duty on the morrow should be to visit Deacon Abbot, and endeavor to convince him that he was not in a thoroughly sanctified state, with all his attainments. "It is dreadful, it is awful," he said, "that so many, many professors and possessors of our holy religion, by indulging in some grave fault or evil habit, make their profession and pos- session of none effect, so far as it i^egards their associates. Hard as it may sound, I believe souls sometimes go down to perdition because of the sins of Christian men and women. " Deacon Abbot means to be a good man. The Lord's grace is undoubtedly in his heart. Right grandly he lets his light shine in some directions, but toward his own home it is shut 160 SKETCHES FOR PARENTS. out by irritability, and moroscness, and avarice. Under the shadow which these have cast upon his life, poor Hal has almost made eternal shipwreck. Almost? Thank God it is not quite! I think he will yet be saved, though the narrowness of his chance should be to us, every one who has named the Master's name, as a warning from the heavens." CQannbi^ and CQannep^s. BY LADY WILDE. Beauty is generally considered as the most seductive and irre- sistible of social graces. Yet even beyond the fascination of beauty may be ranked the charm of manner, and the brilliant interchange of thought between refined and cultivated intel- lects. Manner may indeed take the first place among social gifts, for it has an ethical value as a refining influence in all grades of life. It promotes harmony, softens acerbity of tem- per, and diffuses a calm joy over the home-circle, while in soci- ety it dominates as no other gift or grace can do. Beauty may often have fatal power to draw souls earthward, and conversa- tion, with all its wit and brilliancy, may be used to vitiate the moral sense; but manner is ever noble and ennobling, because based on the two great moral principles — respect for one's self and respect for others. Manner exists as an heir-loom among some races — as the Celt, the Slav, and the Arab. The courtesy of the Celt approaches reverence, and the Bedouin have the calm majesty of desert kings. All the Latin races generally have singular grace of idiom and gesture, but the Teuton is naturally uncouth and rough. John Bright, in one of his eloquent addresses to work- ing-men, says with truth that manners, far more than pomp or luxury, form the chief diffei'ence between high and low, rich and poor, the noble and the ignoble. If the uncultivated classes could be trained into habits of mutual courtesy and politeness, if they were made sensible of the moral beauty of gentleness, forbearance, self-respect, and reverence, there would be less of the hideousness of coarse lan- guage and brutal self-assertion in their ordinary intercourse. Manner is a royal grace that we are accustomed to associate manjs^er and manners. ICl with high rank and high breeding, but it may dwell in the cot- tage as in the palace; and it has this advantage, that, while it can beautify all life, it costs nothing, and never generated an evil thought or word. The true science of manner is in the nature and heart, in the sensitive insight into another's feelings, and in the instinct which avoids all that could hurt or wound, combined with the readiness to give honor where honor is due. But training and cultivation are still very necessary to bring the outward gesture into accordance and harmony with the inward grace. The voice must be taught modulation, the intonation brought to the perfection of clear and sonorous music, and the eyes, the lips, the hands, all made to express emotion with dignity and grace. Matthew Arnold says that the proper training of the muscles of the mouth would alone be sufficient to make a people beau- tiful and redeem the lowest type from utter ugliness; for the sin of a vulgar face lies chiefly in the helpless, inexpressive mouth. It is the charm of the French mouth, with its ever- varying curves, that gives such intelligence and expression to the French face. But their language is labial, and that in itself helps to form a fine, expressive mouth, with full command over the muscles. There is therefore a deep truth underlying the very amusing "prunes, prisms, and poetry " recommendation to young ladies entering a room; for in reality labial sounds should be selected and adopted in conversation in preference to the sibilant and guttural, which distort the mouth and destroy facial harmony. The French look so well talking that they are fond of it; indeed, Balzac affirms that in Paris alone is found the spontaneous, spirituelle, graceful intelligence of manner from which springs all good conversation. .There is a wonderfully seductive grace in voice, tone, intona- , tion, and movement; yet how little they are cultivated! Those exquisite charms are almost wholly left to the professional artists, who consequently rule mankind by their fascination. Yet it would be quite possible to make every woman as perfect in tone and gesture as a trained actress. Every one cannot be taught to sing or paint, but they may be taught to speak clearly, into- nate musically, and to move with dignity and grace. Why, asks a French writer, cannot the grace of the stage, the noble movements of the head, the hands, and arms, and the cul- 11 162 SKETCHES FOR PARENTS. tivated voice, be brought into our ordinary social life? The voice alone has an infinite povs^er to charm; yet of all the graces it is the most neglected. The Greeks fully recognized the importance of manner, and their children vvrere early trained in habits of politeness and graceful coui'tesy. The youths w^ere made to recite Homer, to gain command of sonorous language and rhythmical cadence; they were taught to move to music, to maintain a noble dignity of bearing, easy grace, a low and level tone, and never to degen- erate to laughter. Their great philosophers, Pericles, Plato, and Aristotle, were models of fine manners; and the noble descrip- tion given by Aristotle of the demeanor suited to a perfect gen- tleman, might be studied with advantage in the highest circles of nineteenth century civilization. St. Paul, who was deeply versed in Greek philosophy, had, no doubt, also studied the Greek code of manner. Coleridge no- tices the perfect courtesy and high breeding of St. Paul, of which a notable instance is his reply to King Agrippa: "I would that thou and all who hear me were as I am, except these bonds." Here was the courage of his creed skillfully combined with the deference due to royal rank. The perfect grace and noble dignity of this answer could not be surpassed. Sable CQannei^s. To those who merely " eat to live," it may seem a matter of small consequence how one is dressed when he comes to the table, or how he behaves during the meal. But a very little thought ought to convince the most careless person who is not altogether "of the earth, eai-thy," that good manners at the table are preferable to bad manners, and that it is conducive alike to comfort and a sense of " the fitness of things," that the members of the family should come to the daily repasts not only with clean hands and face, but neatly attired. The few moments spent in preparation for the table are not time mis- spent. On the contrary, the slight loss of time is more than made up by the increased charm of the family gathering. One can eat as heartily in " shirt-sleeves " or with tousled locks as in a decent coat or with nicely-ordered hair; but the atmosphere, so to speak, of the table will be far more agreeable and refined in the one case than in the other. The simple formality of put- TABLE MANNERS. 163 ting on a coat and brushing the hair has a tendency to exalt the meal from a mere feeding-process into a festival, not only for eating and drinking, but for the interchange of social courtesies and pleasant words. Of course, no amount of outside polish can do this unless the members of the family have it in them to be courteous and agreeable; but, given the disposition, the