AREV. Dr. Witherspoon, President of New-Jersey College, once gave outPoliteness, to a division of one of his classes, as a subject for composition. The young gentlemen were delighted with it; and when the time came for reading, some of them expatiated upon it largely, learnedly, and politely. After they had all read, they waited for the President to sum up their observations, and then state his own views. But, he told them, he should only give them a short definition, which they might always remember. “Politeness,” said he, “is real kindness, kindly expressed.” This is the sum and substance of all true politeness; and if my readers will put it in practice, they will be surprised to see how every body will be charmed with their manners.
REV. Dr. Witherspoon, President of New-Jersey College, once gave outPoliteness, to a division of one of his classes, as a subject for composition. The young gentlemen were delighted with it; and when the time came for reading, some of them expatiated upon it largely, learnedly, and politely. After they had all read, they waited for the President to sum up their observations, and then state his own views. But, he told them, he should only give them a short definition, which they might always remember. “Politeness,” said he, “is real kindness, kindly expressed.” This is the sum and substance of all true politeness; and if my readers will put it in practice, they will be surprised to see how every body will be charmed with their manners.
Gassendiwas a youth of such extraordinary abilities and attainments as to command universal admiration; but in his manners he was generally silent, never ostentatiously obtruding upon others his own knowledge. He was never in a hurry to give his opinion before he knew that of the persons who were conversing with him. He was never fond of displaying himself.
I knew a young man whose behavior was directly the opposite of Gassendi’s: acompound of ignorance,self-conceit,and impudence. He was forward to talk in all companies. His opinion, on all subjects, wascheap—a gift that went a-begging. He could tell the farmer how to till the soil; the mechanic how to use his tools; the merchant, how to make his gains; the doctor, how to cure his patient; the minister, how to preach; and the cook, how to bake her bread. He wanted only apair of long earsto complete his character.
ASOME boys are mean enough to ridicule others for natural defects, for which they are not to blame; and it is a very common thing to consider the color of the skin as a mark of inferiority. But even if it were so, it would be no ground of reproach, for it is the color which God gave. Mr. Southey, the poet, relates that, when he was a small boy, there was a black boy in the neighborhood, who was calledJim Dick. Southey and a number of his play fellows, as they were collected together one evening at their sports, began to torment the poor black boy, calling him “nigger,” “blackamoor,” and other nicknames. The poor fellow was very much grieved, and soon left them. Soon after, these boy’s had an appointment to go a skating, and on that day Southey broke hisskates. After all his rude treatment of poor Jim, he was mean enough to go and ask him to lend his skates. “O yes, John,” Jim replied, “you may have them and welcome.” When he went to return them, he found Jim sitting in the kitchen reading his Bible. As Southey handed Dick his skates, the latter looked at him with tears in his eyes, and said, “John, don’t ever call me blackamoor again,” and immediately left the room. Southey burst into tears, and from that time resolved never again to abuse a poor black—a resolution which I hope every one of my readers will make and never break. But, if you will follow the example of this poor colored boy, and return good for evil, you will always find it the best retaliation you can make for an injury.
SOME boys are mean enough to ridicule others for natural defects, for which they are not to blame; and it is a very common thing to consider the color of the skin as a mark of inferiority. But even if it were so, it would be no ground of reproach, for it is the color which God gave. Mr. Southey, the poet, relates that, when he was a small boy, there was a black boy in the neighborhood, who was calledJim Dick. Southey and a number of his play fellows, as they were collected together one evening at their sports, began to torment the poor black boy, calling him “nigger,” “blackamoor,” and other nicknames. The poor fellow was very much grieved, and soon left them. Soon after, these boy’s had an appointment to go a skating, and on that day Southey broke hisskates. After all his rude treatment of poor Jim, he was mean enough to go and ask him to lend his skates. “O yes, John,” Jim replied, “you may have them and welcome.” When he went to return them, he found Jim sitting in the kitchen reading his Bible. As Southey handed Dick his skates, the latter looked at him with tears in his eyes, and said, “John, don’t ever call me blackamoor again,” and immediately left the room. Southey burst into tears, and from that time resolved never again to abuse a poor black—a resolution which I hope every one of my readers will make and never break. But, if you will follow the example of this poor colored boy, and return good for evil, you will always find it the best retaliation you can make for an injury.
A soldier in the East Indies, a stout, lion-looking, lion-hearted man, had been a noted prizefighter, and a terror to those who knew him. With one blow he could level a strong man to the ground. That man sauntered into the mission chapel, heard the gospel, and was alarmed. He returned again and again, and at last, light broke in upon his mind, and he became a new creature. The change in his character was markedand decided. The lion was changed into a lamb. Two months afterwards, in the mess-room, some of those who had been afraid of him before began to ridicule him. One of them said, “I’ll put it to the test whether he is a Christian or not;” and taking a basin of hot soup, he threw it into his bosom. The whole company gazed in breathless silence, expecting that the lion would start up, and murder him on the spot. But after he had torn open his waistcoat, and wiped his scalded breast, he calmly turned round and said, “This is what I must expect: If I become a Christian, I must suffer persecution.” His comrades were filled with astonishment. This was overcoming evil with good. If the reader will follow this man’s example, he will save himself a world of difficulty.
In a school in Ireland, one boy struck another; and when he was about to be punished, the injured boy earnestly begged for his pardon. The master inquired why he wished to prevent so deserved a punishment; to which he replied, that he had read in the New-Testament that Jesus Christ said we should forgive our enemies; “and I forgive him, and beg he may not be punished for my sake.”
IIT is a great advantage to any one to have the confidence of others, so far that his word will always be taken for the exact truth. This confidence is to be acquired only by always speaking the truth; and especially, by adhering so closely to the fact that people will not only believe that we mean to speak the truth, but that they will feel confident that we have neither mistaken the facts, nor added any coloring, nor kept back any thing, to make it appear different from the reality. The following story shows how great an advantage one may derive from having this confidence in his strict veracity established:
IT is a great advantage to any one to have the confidence of others, so far that his word will always be taken for the exact truth. This confidence is to be acquired only by always speaking the truth; and especially, by adhering so closely to the fact that people will not only believe that we mean to speak the truth, but that they will feel confident that we have neither mistaken the facts, nor added any coloring, nor kept back any thing, to make it appear different from the reality. The following story shows how great an advantage one may derive from having this confidence in his strict veracity established:
Petrarch, the celebrated Italian poet, by his strict regard for truth, secured the unbounded confidence of Cardinal Colonna, in whose familyhe resided. A violent quarrel broke out among the Cardinal’s numerous family of servants, which ended in a fight. The Cardinal, in order to investigate the affair, and punish the offenders, assembled all his people and put them under oath to tell the whole truth. Everyone took the oath, not excepting the bishop of Luna, the Cardinal’s own brother. Petrarch, in his turn, presented himself, but the Cardinal closed the book, saying, “As to you, Petrarch, your word is sufficient.” Our readers will perceive how great an advantage it will be to them to have always such a strict regard to the exact truth, that their word will be considered as good as an oath.
When Peter the Great heard any one speaking ill of another, he would inquire, “Is there not afair side, also, to the character of the person of whom you are speaking? Come, tell me whatgoodqualities you have remarked about him.” If, in speaking of others, we should look always at thefair side, and see what good things we can say of them, it would make us feel better towards them; it would be doing them a service instead of an injury; it would tend to makepeace, rather than foment strife.
WWHEN Washington appointed the hour of twelve to meet Congress, he never failed to be passing the door of the hall while the clock was striking twelve. His dinner hour was four o’clock. If his guests were not there at the time, he never waited for them. New members of Congress, who were invited to dine with him, would frequently come in when dinner was half over; and he would say to them, “Gentlemen, we are punctual here. My cook never asks whether the company has arrived, but whether the hour has.” In 1799, when on a visit to Boston, he appointed eight o’clock in the morning as the hour when he would set out for Salem. While the Old South clock was striking eight, he was mounting his horse. The company of cavalry,who had volunteered to escort him, was parading in Tremont street, and did not overtake him till he had reached Charles River Bridge. On their arrival, the General said, “Major, I thought you had been too long in my family not to know when it was eight o’clock.”
WHEN Washington appointed the hour of twelve to meet Congress, he never failed to be passing the door of the hall while the clock was striking twelve. His dinner hour was four o’clock. If his guests were not there at the time, he never waited for them. New members of Congress, who were invited to dine with him, would frequently come in when dinner was half over; and he would say to them, “Gentlemen, we are punctual here. My cook never asks whether the company has arrived, but whether the hour has.” In 1799, when on a visit to Boston, he appointed eight o’clock in the morning as the hour when he would set out for Salem. While the Old South clock was striking eight, he was mounting his horse. The company of cavalry,who had volunteered to escort him, was parading in Tremont street, and did not overtake him till he had reached Charles River Bridge. On their arrival, the General said, “Major, I thought you had been too long in my family not to know when it was eight o’clock.”
Samuel Wesley, Esq., was one of the greatest musicians of his age. His musical powers were developed while he was a child, and excited the greatest admiration. But he was as great a lover of regular habits as of song. No company or persuasion could keep him up beyond his regular time for going to bed. For this reason, he could seldom be persuaded to go to a concert in the night. The moment the clock struck eight, away ran Samuel, in the midst of his most favorite amusement. Once he rose up from the first part of theMessiah, saying, “Come, mamma, let us go home, or I shan’t be in bed by eight.” When some friends talked of carrying him to the queen, and his father asked him if he was willing to go, he replied, “Yes, with all my heart; but I won’t stay beyond eight.” This was a wise resolution; for children are sadly injured, by being kept up late at night.
The following amusing sketch, though perhaps fictitious, gives a pretty faithful picture of many a man’s life:
“When a child, I was scolded for being too late at school; when a boy, I was cuffed and kicked for being too late at my work; and when a man, I was turned away for being behind my time on a particular occasion when my services were wanted.
“My uncle Jonathan was well to do in the world, and as his nephews were his nearest relations, we had reason to expect that his property would come among us. He had, however, one peculiarity, which effectually shut his door against me. He never was five minutes too late in an appointment in his life, and thought most contemptuously of those who were. I really believe that I was a bit of a favorite with him until my unfortunate failing justly offended him.
“He had occasion to go a journey, and I was directed to be with him at seven in the morning, to carry his portmanteau to the coach. Alas! I was “Five minutes too late,” and he had left the house.
“Knowing his particularity, I hurried after him, and running till I could scarcely stand, arrived at one end of the street just in time to see the coach go off with my uncle at the other. Dearly did I pay for being “Five minutes too late.”
“My Uncle did not return for a month, and certainly showed more forbearance toward me than he was ever known to do on a similar occasion; for in a letter he stated, that if I could be punctual, he should wish me to meet him on his return, to take charge of his portmanteau, and thereby make some amends for my misconduct. Off I set, but knowing that coaches frequently arrive a quarter of an hour after their set time, I thought a minute or two could be of no consequence. The coach unfortunately, was “horridly exact,” and once more I was after my time, just “Five minutes too late.”
“My Uncle Jonathan never forgave me, fully believing that I had done it on purpose to get rid of the trouble of carrying his portmanteau. Years rolled away, and I was not so much as permitted to enter the door of my Uncle Jonathan.
“Time, however, heals many a sore, and while it ruffles many a smooth brow, smooths many a ruffled temper. My Uncle Jonathan so far relented, that when about to make his will, he sentto me to call upon him exactly at ten o’clock. Determined to be in time, I set off, allowing myself some minutes to spare and pulling out my watch at the door, found that for once in my life I had kept my appointment to the second. The servant, to my surprise, told me, that my Uncle Jonathan had ordered the door to be shut in my face for being behind my time. It was then I found out my watch was too slow, and that I was exactly “Five minutes too late.”
“Had I been earlier on that occasion I might have been provided for, but now I am a poor man, and a poor man I am likely to remain. However, good may arise from my giving this short account of my foolish habit, as it may possibly convince some of the value of punctuality, and dispose them to avoid the manifold evils of being “Five minutes too late.””
Few young persons are sensible of the importance of punctuality, because they are not aware of the value of time. But time is money; and to rob a man of his time, by obliging him to wait beyond the appointed hour to meet your engagement with him, is equivalent to robbing him of so much money as he could have earned in the lost time. Thehabitof punctuality must be acquired early. Be punctual in the family and school, and you will be a punctual man.
QQUARRELLING generally arises from selfishness and anger. Selfishness is grasping. It respects not the rights of others. It will yield none of its own. The selfish person is therefore continually coming in conflict with others; and, as impediments are thrown in the way of his gratification, his passions are roused. Anger is a species of insanity. When one yields to his passions, he loses self-control. He takes an enemy into his bosom, and suffers himself to be nosed about by him at will. No one can tell what dreadful thing he may do when once he gives a loose rein to his passions.
QUARRELLING generally arises from selfishness and anger. Selfishness is grasping. It respects not the rights of others. It will yield none of its own. The selfish person is therefore continually coming in conflict with others; and, as impediments are thrown in the way of his gratification, his passions are roused. Anger is a species of insanity. When one yields to his passions, he loses self-control. He takes an enemy into his bosom, and suffers himself to be nosed about by him at will. No one can tell what dreadful thing he may do when once he gives a loose rein to his passions.
“The beginning of strife is as the letting out of waters.” When you open a little drain to a pond of water, it runs slowly at first, in a verysmall stream; but the body of water above rushes into the channel and wears it deeper, and that increases the pressure and widens it still more, till presently the whole body comes pouring forth in an irresistible torrent. One dry season, in the summer, a man in Vermont, who owned a mill, on a small stream near a large pond, found his water failing, so that his mill was likely to stop. To prevent this, he collected together a few of the neighbors, and dug a little trench from the pond to the stream that carried his mill. At first it ran very slowly and quietly along, till it began to wear away the channel, and to turn the force of the body of water in the pond in that direction, when it increased violently, tore away the banks, and poured the whole contents of the pond into the little stream, carried off the mill, and rushed on with impetuous fury through the valley, sweeping away fences, bridges, barns, houses, and every thing that came in its way.
At a place calledBrag Corner, in the State of Maine, a small stream falls into the Sandy river, on which a superior grist-mill was erected a few years since. The stream not affording water enough, a pond containing fifty or one hundred acres, having no outlet, and lying two hundred feet above the level where the mill stood, was connected with the stream that carried the millby an artificial canal. The water of the pond began to gully away the gravel over which it was made to run, and having formed a regular channel, defied all human control, and, in the space of six hours, cut a ravine seventy feet deep, and let out the whole pond, sweeping away the mill, foundation and all, and carrying away a house and blacksmith’s shop, which stood near, not giving the owner time to save any thing of consequence from his house.
Such, Solomon says, is strife. When you begin to quarrel, you know not where it will end. It not unfrequently terminates in the death of one of the parties, as in the following case: A boy about eleven years of age, son of Mr. Philip Petty, of Westport, R. I., took his father’s gun, as he said, to go a gunning. His elder brother attempted to take it from him. A quarrel ensued, between the two brothers, and in the course of the scuffle, the gun went off and lodged the contents in the younger one’s bowels. He lingered a few hours in great agony and died. How must the other one feel, to think that the quarrel, which he began, led to the death of his brother. How much safer to take Solomon’s advice, and “leave off contention before it be meddled with.”
Frederick Jones was the son of a rich manufacturer. His father being engrossed in business, the children were left to the care of their mother, who, being a weak woman, did not restrain them as she ought. There were four, but three of them died; and Frederick being left the only child, was indulged still more. At a very early age he showed his angry temper; and he became such a little tyrant that the very dogs and cats about the house were afraid of him. Once, when he was three years old, he insisted that he would have the silver tea-urn, to drag about the room by a string for his coach. And, because his mother refused to let him do so, he seized her cap and tore it from her head.
When Frederick was ten years old, he went into the kitchen, where the servants used to let him do as he pleased for fear of his dreadful temper; for they called him “Mamma’s pet lion.” He had not been long there before he upset the table, knocked down the shovel and tongs, and broke several plates. Not satisfied with this, he collected all the tin things in the middle of the floor, and began battering them with the tongs.The cook, not being very well pleased with this destruction, undertook to lead him out of the kitchen. But the little fury, by shrieking and scratching, got free, and seizing a fork, he threw it at the cook, which struck her in the eye and put it out. Thus, by the foolish anger of this little boy, a poor woman lost the sight of her eye entirely. This shows the danger of indulging angry passions; for no one knows what a dreadful deed he may commit in a fit of anger. It shows also the danger of throwing things at others. It is a very dangerous practice, and sometimes leads to the loss of life.
A little while after this, Frederick was playing at the front door of the house, when a boy passing on the other side of the street, called out, “Hallo, Master Fred., have you put any more people’s eyes out lately?” This was enough to make him angry. He immediately picked up a large stone, and chasing the boy some distance, threw it at him with all his might. The boy was out of the way of the stone, but it struck a large bull-dog, which, naturally enough, concluded that he was unjustly attacked, and turning upon Frederick, gave him a severe bite in the leg, and tossed him into the gutter. Frederick roared aloud with pain and rage, and had to be carried home to his bed, where he lay for several weeks. Butnobody pitied him. The people who heard of it, knowing his temper, thought the dog had done a praiseworthy act.
After this, Frederick’s father sent him to a boarding school, about twenty miles from home, to a very strict master. Here he was in continual broils with his school-fellows. There was scarcely a boy in the school with whom he did not have a fight. But generally he came off with a bleeding nose or a black eye, because his passions took away his strength, and the other boys were an overmatch for him. His schoolmates generally did not like to fight; but this angry boy would fly at them for the most trifling thing, and force them to defend themselves.
Frederick’s father died before he was twenty years of age; and as he loved amusement better than business, he sold the manufactory, and travelled in Europe; where he was very dissipated, and fought two duels, in both of which he was wounded. During his absence, his mother had become a good woman; and on his return, he found her company disagreeable. She entreated him to break off his evil courses. But this only made him angry. To get rid of her reproofs, he left her and went to one of the Western States. There, while he was engaged at a public house, with some of his wicked companions, talkingpolitics, one of them called him a liar, and he drew out his dirk and stabbed him to the heart. He ran away from the place, but the image of the murdered man haunted him day and night, and made him wretched. He gave himself up to intoxication, and at the age of twenty-three years, fell into a drunkard’s grave, some time after his mother had died of a broken heart on his account. All this came upon Frederick, in consequence of not restraining his passions while a boy. His violent, ungovernable temper might have been subdued, when he was a child; but by indulgence it increased in strength, till it became perfectly unmanageable.
The following affecting story, which is given in the language of the brother himself, will admonish every boy who reads it, to be kind to his sisters, and especially to avoid blows on the head, as it is probable the blow given this little girl by her brother was the cause of her death. What a shame for a brother to strike his sister!
“One morning in my early life, I remember to have been playing with my younger sister, not then three years old. It was one of those bright mornings in spring, that bring joy and life to theheart, and diffuse gladness and animation through all the tribes of living creatures. Our feelings were in perfect harmony with the universal gladness of nature. Even now I seem to hear the merry laugh of my little sister, as she followed me through the winding alleys of the garden, her cheek suffused with the glow of health and animation, and her waving hair floating in the wind.
“She was an only sister, the sole companion of all my childish sports. We were constantly together; and my young heart went out to hers, with all the affection, all the fondness, of which childhood is capable. Nothing afforded me enjoyment in which she did not participate; no amusement was sought which we could not share together.
“That morning we had prolonged our play till near the hour of breakfast, with undiminished ardor, when at some slight provocation, my impetuous nature broke forth, and in my anger, Istruckmy little sister a blow with my hand. She turned to me with an appealing look, and the large tears came into her eyes. Her heart was too full to allow her to speak, and shame made me silent. At that moment the breakfast bell summoned us away, and we returned to the house without exchanging a word. The excitement of play was over, and as she sat beside my motherat breakfast, I perceived by occasional stolen glances at her that she was pale and sad. A tear seemed ready to start in her eye, which her little self-possession could scarcely repress. It was only when my mother inquired if she was ill, that she endeavored to eat. I was ashamed and grieved, and inwardly resolved to embrace the first opportunity when we were alone, to throw my arms round her neck and entreat her forgiveness.
“When breakfast was ended, my mother retired with her into her own room, directing me in the meantime to sit down to my lesson. I seated myself by the window, and ran over my lesson, but did not learn it. My thoughts were perpetually recurring to the scene in the garden and at table. It was long before my mother returned, and when she did, it was with an agitated look, and hurried step, to tell me that my poor Ellen was very ill. I asked eagerly if I might go to her, but was not permitted, lest I should disturb her. A physician was called and every means used for her recovery, but to no purpose. The disease, which was in her head, constantly increased in violence, and she became delirious. It was not until evening that I was permitted to see her. She was a little recovered from the severity of her pain, and lay with her eyes closed,and her little hand resting on the pillow beneath her head. How I longed to tell her the sorrow I felt for my unkindness to her in the morning and how much I had suffered for it during the day. But I was forbidden to speak to her, and was soon taken out of the room. During that night and the day following, she continued to grow worse. I saw her several times, but she was always insensible of my presence. Once indeed, she showed some signs of consciousness, and asked for me; but immediately relapsed into her former state.
“On the morning of the third day, I rose at an early hour, and repaired to the sick room. My mother was sitting by the bed. As I entered, she drew me to her, and for some time was silent, while the tears flowed fast down her face. I first learned that my sweet sister was dead, as my mother drew aside the curtain that concealed her from me. I felt as though my heart would break. The remembrance of her affection for me, and my last unkind deed, revived in my mind; and burying my face in the folds of the curtain, I wept long and bitterly.
“I saw her laid in the coffin, and lowered into the grave. I almost wished to lie down there with her, if so I might see once more her smile and hear my forgiveness in her sweet voice.
“Years have passed away and I am now a man—but never does the recollection of this incident of my early life fail to awaken bitter feelings of grief and remorse. And never do I see my young friends exchanging looks or words of anger, without thinking of my last pastime with my own loved Ellen.”
Some children take great delight in teazing. The way to avoid such annoyances is, to take no notice of them. Respect yourself too much to be disturbed by those who disregard the common courtesies of life. If they find they cannot teaze you, they will cease to make the attempt. The late Dr. Bowditch (a man who attained to great eminence, as a man of learning and science), was the son of a poor sailor. His parents were so poor that he was obliged to wear his summer clothes to school, during the whole winter. His schoolmates would sometimes laugh at him, because he wore such thin clothes. But they could never make him angry, or disturb his equanimity. All the notice he took of their jeers was, to laugh at them for thinking that he was unable to bear the cold. If you follow his example, you will never suffer much from being teazed.
DDO you remember what Solomon says about bad company? “Enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not in the way of evil men. For they sleep not except they have done mischief; and their sleep is taken away, unless they cause some to fall.”
DO you remember what Solomon says about bad company? “Enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not in the way of evil men. For they sleep not except they have done mischief; and their sleep is taken away, unless they cause some to fall.”
Mr. Green, the Reformed Gambler, relates that, at the age of sixteen, he was laboring industriously, in the city of Cincinnati, and saving his wages. But he became acquainted with a bad set of boys, who visited a ten-pin alley. In his leisure hours, instead of spending his time in reading and treasuring up useful knowledge, he would frequent this den of iniquity; and Sabbath days, instead of going to meeting, he would go with the same set of boys to a place of amusement and sin, a little way outof the city. In a short time, this evil company had erased every tender affection from his bosom. On one of these misspent Sabbaths, he fell in with a rough set of lawless boys, and got into a fight with them, and was seen thus engaged by the city marshal.
The next morning, a stranger, whom he met at his boarding house, inquired of him respecting the different places of amusement in the city, and he took him to the ten-pin alley, where he was in the habit of going. While they were there, engaged in bowling, a man came staggering in, to all appearance, half drunk. He pulled out three thimbles, and tried to find some one to play with him for drink. This is a swindler’s game, through which he picks the pockets of fools, by persuading them to bet that they can tell under which of three thimbles he places a ball. It is all a cheat. The landlord played and won, and the man appeared very angry; but this was only a bait, to blind the eyes of the young men, and induce them to bet. They were caught; and they lost what money they had, Mr. Green two dollars, and the stranger, twenty-five. They tried in vain to get back their money. At length, the man who was with Green went to the Mayor’s office, and related the story; and the city marshal, having seen Green the day before engaged in a fight, suspectedthat he was leagued with the gamblers, and had him arrested; and though no proof was brought against him, he was fined and sent to jail. There he was kept for several months, in company with counterfeiters, murderers, highwaymen, and gamblers, whose principal amusement was card-playing; when he was discharged penniless, in rags, and with a bad character. This was the commencement of his career of vice, his reformation from which is the next thing to a miracle. All this came upon him in consequence of keeping bad company. Learn from it to avoid evil company andbetting. The boy that suffers himself tobetthe smallest amount, has already entered the downhill road of the gambler’s career. And there is no evil that can be named but he may be drawn into, who begins to keep bad company. You might as well expect to go intolazarhouse, without being infected, as to go into bad company, and not fall into evil habits.
Perhaps there is no bad company to which boys are more exposed than theprofane; and none which is more corrupting. Young people insensibly fall into the habits of those with whom they associate. If they hear them interlard their conversationwith by-words and oaths, they will be strongly tempted to do the same. They will begin, perhaps, with by-words and little oaths, which show a disposition to be profane, without courage to carry it out. But they will not long stop here. They will soon overcome the chidings of conscience, and then they can be as foul-mouthed as any of their companions. This vice hardens the heart, and prepares it for every other; for he who despises God will despise man. He who takes the name of God in vain, will not hesitate to break all his commandments. Profaneness is one of the meanest of all vices. It involves every thing that is little and mean. It is treating with the utmost indignity our Greatest Benefactor. It is a kind of gratuitous wickedness; for there is no motive for it but a disposition to do evil. The profane boy is a dangerous companion. He will lead you into you know not what mischief and difficulty. The only way is to avoid him, as you would a black snake, or a person that has the small pox. If you go with him, he will, most likely, lead you to ruin.
Nogentlemanwill use profane language. It is an outrage upon good manners. No one can becalled a gentleman, who is guilty of it. It is a vice that has always been held in detestation by the great and the good. General Washington would never allow it in his army. In 1757, while a colonel, at Fort Cumberland, when he was a young man, he issued an order, expressing his “great displeasure,” at the prevalence of profane cursing and swearing, and threatening those who were guilty of it with severe punishment. The day after he took the command of the Revolutionary army he issued a similar order. In August, 1776, he issued another order against this vice, in which he speaks of it as “a vice somean and low, without any temptation, that every man of sense and character detests and despises it.” He also strictly forbade gaming and drunkenness.
Howard, the Philanthropist, standing in the street, heard some dreadful oaths and curses from a public house opposite. Having occasion to go across, he first buttoned up his pocket, saying to a by-stander, “I always do this, when I hear men swear, as I think that any one who can take God’s name in vain, can also steal, or do any thing else that is bad.”
God has set a mark upon this vice. He not unfrequently punishes it, by directly answering the prayer that is profanely uttered. J. H. was a notorious swearer. He had a singular habit of calling on God to curse his eyes. After some years, this awful imprecation was verified. He was afflicted with a disease in his eyes, which terminated in total blindness. This so affected his general system, that he gradually sunk under it, and went to give up his account. A number of similar cases, some of them still more awful, you will find in the tract entitled, “The Swearer’s Prayer.”
Playing truant when sent to school, is almost always the means of getting into bad company; and bad company leads to ruin. A boy thirteen years old, was brought before the police court in Boston, charged with stealing a gold pen from a lawyer’s office. He had been in the habit of coming into the offices, in the building, and selling apples. The gentleman from whom he stole the pen had furnished him money to fill his basket; and he returned his kindness by stealing his pen, which was worth three dollars. His mother appeared before the court, and plead earnestly forher boy, saving that he was a good boy to her, except that heplayed truant from school. He then got into the company of a gang of boys, who peddle apples,—a thievish set,—and of them he also learned to steal. He was sent to the House of Reformation; which is a prison for boys, where they are kept at work and study, but not allowed their liberty.
Several years ago, a young man about twenty years of age, filthy in his appearance, and shabbily dressed, called at the house of a clergyman in the city of New York. His countenance, though haggard, bore the marks of intelligence. The young man said he had been at his church the previous evening, and was desirous of having some conversation with the minister. He was requested to open his mind freely. He said he was the son of a deacon of a Congregational church in Connecticut. His father was a man of property and influence, and he himself had always moved in the most respectable society. He had come to New York in order to become acquainted with business, and prepare himself for an active and useful life. But he soon found himself surrounded with new temptations, withoutthe restraining influences of home and friends. He fell into bad company. His vicious associates led him to the theatre, and when his passions were excited by what he saw, and stimulated by intoxicating liquors, he was persuaded to visit places of infamy and crime. These indulgences called for more money than he could honestly obtain; but his appetites, once excited, could not be easily restrained; and he had recourse to his employer’s money drawer to supply the deficiency. He eased his conscience, in this act, and deceived himself, with the hope of repaying it before he was detected. But in this he was mistaken. He was detected, tried, found guilty, and sentenced to the penitentiary for six months. He had now been out of prison a week, during which time he had been wandering about the city, ashamed to be seen or known. He had come to ask advice. The clergyman advised him by all means to go home to his father; assuring him that it was his only hope, for if he remained in the city, he would fall into the company of his old associates and be ruined. With the deepest agony, he exclaimed, “How can I ever return to my father’s house? How can I ever meet him or the virtuous companions of my youth? No! No! I am fallen—disgraced! I have been a felon, and in prison!No, I would rather die a vagabond in the street, than to see the face of my father, or the faces of the young people, who were my associates in the days when I felt myself as good as they.” He was yet unhumbled. He was yet unwilling, like the prodigal, to return to his father’s house. However, after much persuasion, he promised that the next morning he would set off for home. But he had not the moral courage to fulfil his purpose. He was ashamed to arise and go to his father. He continued to roam about the streets, and was again detected in stealing.
This anecdote shows not only the danger of bad company, but the peril of young men who go from the country to the city to engage in business. They had better remain at home, unless their principles are firmly established upon the foundation of true religion. There is nothing to be gained in the city that is worth the exposure of morals and character.
Books are company; and the company of bad books is as dangerous as the company of bad boys or bad men. Goldsmith, who was a novel-writer of some note, writing to his brother about the education of a nephew, says, “Above allthings never let your nephew touch a novel or a romance.” An opinion given in such a manner must have been an honest opinion. And, as he knew the character of novels, and had no nice scruples on the subject of religion, his opinion ought to have great weight.
A boy in London, in destitute circumstances, was put out as an apprentice to a mechanic. It is the business of the youngest apprentice to do all the errands and drudgery of the establishment, and frequently of his master’s family also. He was often sent by the workmen and older apprentices, to procure intoxicating liquors for them; of which all of them partook, except himself, because, as they said, it did them good. But because he refused to drink he was made an object of ridicule among them. They said he had not sufficientmanhoodto drink rum. But he had sufficient manhood torefuse to drink rum; and it requires much more to refuse than to drink.
Nothing can be more false than the idea that it is courageous and manly to fall in with the habits and practices of those with whom we are obliged to associate. It is a sign ofcowardicerather than ofcourage. Thesheepis the most timid ofanimals. But if a man is driving a flock of sheep, and one of them gets frightened and turns out of the way, all the rest will follow, no matter if it is over the railing of a bridge into a river. The boy that drinks or swears or plays truant, or breaks the Sabbath, because his companions do, is as courageous as—a sheep!
While the workmen and apprentices were revelling over their rum, and insulting and misusing this boy, he often retired and vented his grief in tears. But a few years changed the aspect of things. As they grew up, and entered upon the world for themselves, all the older apprentices fell into habits of dissipation, and finally sunk into the drunkard’s grave. But the little boy, at whose abstinence they used to scoff, grew up a sober and respectable man, engaged in business for himself, and a few years ago, was worth a hundred thousand dollars, and had in his employ one hundred and ninety men, none of whom used ardent spirits. All this came from his having courage to sayno, to those who held the poisoned cup to his lips.
A little boy, four years old, wandered from his home, one day, in the town of Turin, N. Y., to afield where some men were at work. There he found a bottle of spirits, of which he drank freely. When found, he was lying on the ground, unable to speak. He was carried home to his mother, and the Doctor was sent for; but he could do nothing for the poor boy. He remained stupid till evening, and then died. The rum had poisoned him. Not a great while before this, his father was drowned in a fit of intoxication. “Touch not, taste not, handle not.”
A lad in Philadelphia, some years ago, joined the Temperance Society. The father and mother, who were what are calledmoderatedrinkers, were displeased with him. The boy said nothing for sometime, but bore patiently the chidings of his mother. At length, he undertook to vindicate his conduct: “Am I to blame, mother? Sister Mary has married a drunken husband, who abuses her every day. Sister Susan’s husband was intemperate, and has gone off, and left her, and you are obliged to take her home, and take care of her children. Brother James comes home drunk almost every night. And because I have joined the cold water company, and you arelikely to have one sober person in the family, you are scolding at me! Am I to blame?”
There was a young man in college, one of the brightest, who was greatly beloved for his personal attractions, frankness, good nature, and generosity. But he was occasionally found flushed with wine, and then he was turbulent and ungovernable. At length, in one of these fits of excitement, he committed a misdemeanor for which he was expelled from college. Soon after this, he became very dissipated, abandoned his studies, and finally became a sot. People wondered how such a lovely young man could fall into such ruinous courses. A young lady, conversing about him, said she remembered that, when he was a little boy, just beginning to study Latin, she saw his mother bring him a loaf of cake and a glass of wine for a lunch. She then thought that perhaps he would become a drunkard, and so it turned out. Beware of the first glass.
WWILLIAM R. was a young man of good habits—a lovely youth, “the only son of his mother, and she was a widow.” He was sent from the country, where he had been brought up, to the city of New York, where he was employed as a clerk. Hearing much of theTheatre, and seeing it puffed in the newspapers, he thought he wouldgo once, just out of curiosity, to see what was done there. But, he was so fascinated with what he heard and saw there, that he went again; just as some birds are so charmed with the gaze of the serpent, as to run straight into his mouth! There William fell into evil company, who enticed him away to the haunts of infamy. Intoxicated with these things, he continued to frequent the theatre until the expense was more than his earnings. He thenbegan to steal money from his employer. He was detected and fled. After some time, his friends, hoping he had learned something from experience, sent him to another city. For a time he seemed to be thoroughly reformed. But evil habits once acquired are not easily overcome. He soon fell into the same round of folly and sin, till he lost his character and his employment, and in his despair, committed suicide!
WILLIAM R. was a young man of good habits—a lovely youth, “the only son of his mother, and she was a widow.” He was sent from the country, where he had been brought up, to the city of New York, where he was employed as a clerk. Hearing much of theTheatre, and seeing it puffed in the newspapers, he thought he wouldgo once, just out of curiosity, to see what was done there. But, he was so fascinated with what he heard and saw there, that he went again; just as some birds are so charmed with the gaze of the serpent, as to run straight into his mouth! There William fell into evil company, who enticed him away to the haunts of infamy. Intoxicated with these things, he continued to frequent the theatre until the expense was more than his earnings. He thenbegan to steal money from his employer. He was detected and fled. After some time, his friends, hoping he had learned something from experience, sent him to another city. For a time he seemed to be thoroughly reformed. But evil habits once acquired are not easily overcome. He soon fell into the same round of folly and sin, till he lost his character and his employment, and in his despair, committed suicide!
Here, again, my readers will see thatTotal Abstinenceis the only safe rule. This boy’s ruin was the consequence of going to the theatrejust once. If he had resisted an idle curiosity in the beginning, he would have been saved. There are some things that we ought not to desire to see. Among these, are the things that are done at theatres and other places of amusement and pleasure, which abound in cities. It is dangerous to look upon them. It is like looking down from a giddy height upon a rapid current of water. It turns the head, the foothold is endangered, and the life put in jeopardy.
The following anecdote shows the strength of this passion, when once it has gained the ascendancy:
A colored man employed as a fireman on board a steamboat, between Cincinnati and New Orleans, lost all his money, at play with his companions. He then staked his clothing, which he also lost. Having nothing more, he laid down his free papers andstaked himself. Losing this time, also, he was actually sold by the winner to a slave dealer.
What a power must this passion have over a man, when he will play at the hazard of his own liberty, which most men esteem dearer than life! Young man, if you once contract this habit, you will have no power to restrain it. You will gratify the passion at the hazard of every thing. My mother used to relate an anecdote of some young men, who retired to a garret to play at cards, where they would not be seen. There was an open cask of powder in the room, and they had stuck a lighted candle into the powder, which served the purpose of a candlestick. The man at whose house they were, coming to the loft for some purpose, observed them a few moments before the candle had burned down to the powder, and creeping softly so as not to alarm them, snatched away the candle. In a few moments more they would have been blown to atoms.
The only security against gambling is similar to that against intemperance:Total abstinence from games of chance.If you neverlearn any play that can be used in gaming, you will be safe from the snare. But with the knowledge of such games, you will scarcely escape its seductions.
There was a family, consisting of the father and mother, two sons, and one daughter, who lived in Tennessee. The father and mother used to play cards with the children for amusement. The sons went to college, and the father’s business required him to be much of the time from home. On one occasion, while the sons were at home, during vacation, the father wrote a letter requesting the eldest son to bring him five thousand dollars. The young man was accordingly despatched with the money. He went on board a steamboat, where he met a company of gamblers, in the garb of gentlemen, who professed to be only playing for amusement. To this he had been accustomed, from his childhood, at his father’s house, and thought no harm of it. He was solicited to play, and consented. After playing a few moments, they agreed to bet one dollar on the game. He lost, and then doubled his bet, and went on so, till soon he had lost what little money he had about him. He became much excited,went to his state-room and drew out a large package of bills, and returned to the table, where very soon he had lost twelve hundred dollars. He now came to the place where he was to leave the steamboat and go to his father; but he was so intoxicated with the excitement of the gaming table, that he went on. He played on, and continued to lose. Several of the more respectable passengers tried to get him away. But the passion for gaming had taken such possession of his heart, that he was held to the spot, till his package of five thousand dollars was all in the hands of three hardened gamblers. Two of them afterwards won from him his watch and his diamond breast pin, and left him without money enough to buy a meal of victuals.
About ten days after he left, his mother received a letter from his father, saying that he had heard nothing from him. She immediately took her younger son and went in pursuit of him. But, the only intelligence they could gain concerning him was, that he had been ruined by a company of gamblers. The father immediately started for New-Orleans, in search of his son, but hearing nothing from him, he, in despair, took to drinking, and returned, after two years’ absence,—“his frame worn—his cheek pale—his eyes wild and fevered—his lips parched—hishopes crushed—his very life only the motion of excitement and passion—his very soul shattered—his property mortgaged.” In a short time he went again in pursuit of his son, but returned home, heart-broken, and died ofdelirium tremens, the drunkard’s disease. The daughter and the other son, both became maniacs. Thus was a whole family ruined, in consequence of the foolish habit of playing cards for amusement. If that young man had never learned to play cards, he would, in all probability, have gone on his way, and reached his father in safety, with the money. And, if he had been firmly principled against playing, his answer, “Inever play,” would have stopped all solicitation. I travelled on those Western waters, when I was a young man, at a time when gambling was carried on every hour of the day, and almost the live-long night; and yet I was never solicited to play. And why not, as well as this young man? Because, (1.) I did not know how to play; (2.) I felt a great aversion to it, and did not hesitate to show it; and (3.) I made myself known as areligious man. These three things will always be sufficient to defend a young man against the most wily gamesters in the world.
The case I have related, is only one among hundreds that might be stated, in which the ruinof many a promising young man has been accomplished, by alluring him to play cards for amusement, and then gradually leading him on to stake first small sums, which he is permitted to win, and then he is persuaded to go on, till he has not a farthing left. There is a set of men, in all parts of the country, who make a business of gambling, and league together to draw in unwary youth and strip them of all they possess, and of more, if they can lay their hands upon money not their own.
Beware, then, how you excite a passion for gaming, by playing for amusement. I am afraid ofall games; but, especially, all games of chance. I think there is a strong tendency in them all to excite a passion for gaming, which will not be satisfied without something more stimulating than mere amusement. If I see a boy rolling marbles, or a young man shuffling cards, I think he is in the high road to ruin. Marbles is a dirty play. It treads on the heels of low company and gambling. We frequently hear boys crying out, with all the braggardism of a practiced gambler, “I’ll bet” so and so. But all betting is gambling. “Touch not, taste not, handle not.”