give Uncle Hambright would never come to an end, so eager were they to
begin the hunt. By-and-by the time came, and they were off. The first
few foxes had been drawn on the board-walk, so the hunters had easy
sailing for a little while. Pretty soon, however, one of the girls
discovered a fox on a tree, and the head of the fox pointed right into
the woods. At first the children halted. The eldest girl said finally,
after studying a few minutes,——
“Let’s go on; Uncle Hambright wouldn’t take us where anything could hurt
us, and, besides, he said he would be waiting at the end.”
Thus reassured, all of them plunged into the woods. Once in the woods
the little foxes drawn on trees and stumps carried them right along by
the side of a babbling brook for a long distance. Sometimes they would
find one fox, and then they would find it very hard to locate the next
one. It was great fun for them to scurry about in the woods, examining
trees, stumps, rocks and everything, hunting for the foxes. Finally one
of the little girls found a fox on a fence. The head of the fox pointed
upwards. The little child said,——
“This little fox seems to be pointing to heaven; I’m sure we can’t go up
there.”
“Oh, no;” said the oldest girl, again coming to the rescue,—“I think
that that little fox leads over the fence—that’s all.”
So, over the fence they jumped and continued the chase.
[Illustration: “YOU ALL WAIT UNTIL I COME BACK, AND THEN WE’LL PLAY AT
FOX-HUNTING.”]
The course proved to be zig-zag now for a few minutes, and the children
found the foxes more and more difficult to locate. They felt safe again,
when the foxes were found on stones or rocks leading up the side of a
hill. The woods began to thin out, and the children were no longer
timid. Up the hill they went with a merry laugh and a shout. Once on top
of the hill, they lost their course again. After a time, they found a
fox, though, and that fox pointed straight down the hill. The children
bravely followed. At the foot of the hill, they came suddenly upon an
open space, and close by there was a great big fox marked upon a piece
of black paste-board and standing right over a bubbling spring of water.
“Uncle Hambright must have meant for us to stop here,” said one.
“Maybe, he meant for us to stop and get some water,” said another.
One or two of the fox-hunters stopped and drank some water. Then the
oldest one said,——
“Come on now, let’s look for another fox; I guess we are most through
now.”
About twenty yards away from the spring, the children came to another
open space that was well shaded. What was their delight and surprise to
find there stretched out before them on a large white table cloth, laid
on the bare ground, a sumptuous picnic-dinner. And in the middle of the
table there was a true-true stuffed fox with a large red apple in his
mouth. For a few moments the children stood around the table in
bewilderment. But they were not to be kept in suspense a great while.
Pretty soon, Uncle Hambright and mama and papa came out of the woods
near by, and such a laugh as went around that picnic-dinner was never
heard before or since!
At the close of the meal, the children all voted that that was the best
game that Uncle Ham had played during the day.
XXIII.
A BOLD VENTURE.
“Mr. Slocum, good morning, sir; I came around to ask you to lend me five
dollars.”
Mr. Slocum, Manager of the Harlem Steamboat Company, looked up from his
desk in surprise when he heard this abrupt announcement.
“What’s that?” he asked curtly.
“Lend me five dollars,” said the little boy who had first addressed him.
“Who are you?” demanded Mr. Slocum.
“I’m nobody,” said the boy,—“nobody, but I want you to lend me five
dollars.”
Mr. Slocum, who was generally said to be a hard man to deal with, was
surprised at the boy’s presumption, yet, nevertheless, he was secretly
pleased at the boy’s frank and open manner.
“Do you know what borrowing money means?” asked Mr. Slocum, rising and
looking down upon the diminutive figure standing before him. The boy was
barefooted, held his hat in his hand, and his hair was nicely combed.
Mr. Slocum continued: “Don’t you know when a person borrows money he is
supposed to pay it back?”
“Oh, yes;” said the boy, “I know that. You lend me the money, and I’ll
pay it back all right. I only want it for three months. I’ll pay it
back.”
[Illustration: “LEND ME FIVE DOLLARS.”]
There was something about the boy’s face and general deportment that won
Mr. Slocum’s favor. He ran his hand into his pocket, pulled out a
five-dollar bill and handed it to the boy.
“Thank you, sir;” said the boy, as he turned to go,—“thank you sir; I’ll
pay it back.”
Three months later, the same little boy entered Mr. Slocum’s office.
“Here’s your five dollars, Mr. Slocum,” said the little boy. “I’m much
obliged to you, sir.”
“Who are you?” asked Mr. Slocum, as he reached out and took the money.
“I’m nobody,” said the boy.
“Well, why do you bring me this money?”
“Because I owe it to you,” explained the little fellow.
The boy told Mr. Slocum of the loan made three months before, and made
Mr. Slocum recall the transaction. Mr. Slocum asked him to have a seat.
“Well, what did you do with that money?” asked Mr. Slocum.
“Well,” said the boy, “I was hard up when I called on you. Me and my ma
had been selling papers for a living up to that time, but somehow we had
got behind with our expenses. House rent was due, and we didn’t have
nothing to eat. I had to find a friend somewhere. So, after trying two
or three places where I was known and failing to get any help, I decided
to drop in here and see you. You know the result. Well, I paid my rent
for a week; rented a little stand for my ma to sell papers on the
corner, while I continued to hustle in the street. That five dollars you
lent me give me good luck, and I’ve been going right up ever since. Me
and ma are living in a better place now; we’ve got a plenty to eat; and
we’ve got a plenty of fine customers. I told you when I came here before
that I was nobody then, but I’m somebody now, Mr. Slocum,—anyhow, I feel
so—and I want to thank you again for the help you gave me.”
The boy’s story pleased Mr. Slocum very much. It is needless to say that
he took an interest in that boy, and continued to befriend him.
This happened many years ago. To-day Tommy Tolliver—that was the boy’s
name—is the Assistant General Manager of the Harlem Steamboat Company,
and a very well-to-do man. Mr. Slocum says that there is nobody in the
world like him. Tommy’s mother died some years ago, but she lived long
enough to see her little boy taken out of the streets, put to school,
and started on his career of usefulness.
XXIV.
A HERO IN BLACK.
I read some years ago, boys and girls, a story in McClure’s Magazine,
which I think should be of interest to every boy and girl in the world.
The story was taken from the records of the Royal Humane Society of
Great Britain. It told about an obscure negro seaman whose brave deed
was discovered and honored by two of the great nations of the earth.
One tropical night, the steamer Dolphin rested almost motionless off the
Cayman rocks in Nicaragua. Crew and passengers, some twenty in all, were
asleep about the deck, for it was too hot to go below. Then came such a
squall as comes only in those Southern seas. The sails, all set,
furnished ample leverage. Within ten seconds, the Dolphin was bottom up,
her passengers and crew struggling in the water.
[Illustration: A HERO IN BLACK.]
Wilson McField, a negro and a subject of Great Britain, was the first to
come to the surface. All his twenty-seven years of life he had known
these waters, and he swam like a fish. He soon succeeded in climbing
upon the bottom of the vessel. Then he shouted to the others, and one by
one pulled up five of the crew.
Fortunately the squall was soon over, although the sea was high. After
they had drifted two hours the men heard strange sounds, like pounding
within the vessel. Some thought they heard voices. The more
superstitious were afraid. The night dragged on, and by daylight the
sounds had grown fainter. The crew concluded that men were imprisoned
within the boat, but none could devise a way to save them. Then the
negro proposed to dive under and into the ship. They assured him he
would never get out again, but carrying between his teeth one end of a
rope that had been dragging from the vessel, McField dived, passed under
the gunwale and rose in the hatch.
It was pitch-dark, and the interior of the vessel was full of the
floating cargo, but he kept on steadily. Finally concluding that he had
reached the cabin, he rose, and in an instant his head was above water.
Yet so foul was the air, and so narrow the space between the water and
the ship’s bottom, that he could hardly breathe. He could see no one,
but he heard the knocking again, and called out. Then came voices faint
but familiar.
Swimming in the direction of the sound, he found two men braced against
the cabin sides and holding their heads above water. One was a young
rubber cutter, named Mallitz, the other a native Spanish-Nicaraguan,
called Ovando. Both were panic-stricken, and McField was obliged to
threaten them with instant death if they did not obey him. He fastened
the rope round Mallitz and gave the signal to pull. McField dived into
the water along with his man. In his fright Mallitz entangled himself in
the hatchway, and precious time was lost in freeing him. When they
reached the surface Mallitz was unconscious, and McField more dead than
alive.
They pulled Mallitz aboard but McField would not follow. As soon as the
rope was free he took it in his teeth and went under, found the hatch
and entered the cabin. Ovando was almost uncontrollable with fear and
exhaustion, but McField finally secured him with the rope, and gave the
signal to pull up. This time the trip was made without accident, and
both men were drawn on board. All the men were saved.
The United States government awarded McField a medal and a sum of money
in gold, and the Royal Humane Society of Great Britain gave him a medal
of silver.
XXV.
THE ROAD TO SUCCESS.
The world is constantly looking for the man who knows the most, and it
pays little regard to those who are proficient in the usual degree in
the same things. One must excel, or, in other words, know more than his
associates in order to succeed notably. The world will bid high for you
if you know more than other men.
[Illustration: THE ROAD TO SUCCESS.]
So that boys and girls who are preparing themselves for the duties of
life should not aim simply at being as good as somebody else, but they
should aim at being the best that it is possible to be in any chosen
line of life or business. I have noticed in my short lifetime that there
is a great tendency on the part of young people to cut short their
education. Being able to shine in the intellectual and social worlds
with the small attainments made in some college or normal school or
industrial school, the average young negro man is content to stop with a
diploma or certificate from one or another of these institutions. They
will never realize what injury they have done themselves by so doing
until it is too late. On the other hand, there is another large class of
young people that stop short even before they have finished the course
in even any one of the normal or industrial schools. They must go out to
work; they know enough to make a living; what’s the use of so much
education, anyhow? This is the way some of them talk. This is what some
of them believe. Boys and girls, no man or woman with such low ideals
will ever reach the topmost round of the ladder of fame. Such boys and
girls will always play a second-rate part in the great drama of life.
The boys and girls who are going to the front—the boys and girls who are
going to have the leading parts—are the boys and girls who are willing
to take time to prepare themselves. And preparation means hard work; and
not only hard work, but hard and long-continued work. A person can learn
a good deal in one year; a person can learn a good deal in two years;
but nobody can learn enough in one or two years, or in three or four
years, to make it at all likely that he will ever be sought by the great
world.
Aside from the rudimentary training, it ought to take at least ten years
to make a good doctor, or a good lawyer, or a good electrician, or a
good preacher. Four of these years ought to be spent in college; and
four in the professional school; and the other two ought to be spent in
picking up a practical or working knowledge of the calling—whatever it
may be. The young doctor obtains this practical knowledge in hospitals
and in practice among the poor. The electrician obtains it by entering
some large electrical industry or manufactory, in which a thoroughly
practical knowledge of mechanical engineering and electricity can be
secured. It is true that some men have become distinguished in these
callings without this long preparation of which I have spoken; yet it
is, also, true that they would have been better off—they would have been
more likely to have become eminent—if they had taken the longer course.
College is a little world which every one, other things being equal,
ought to enter and pass through before launching in the great world.
XXVI.
SAMUEL C. ARMSTRONG.
Boys and girls, I wonder how many of you have heard of Samuel C.
Armstrong—General Armstrong, the founder of Hampton Institute in
Virginia? General Armstrong was one of the best men who ever lived, and
he was the friend of all mankind. His special services were rendered in
behalf of Indians and Negroes—the weaker races. You ought to go to
Hampton Institute sometimes and see that place, and go over to the
little cemetery in one corner of the grounds and stand uncovered by the
side of General Armstrong’s grave. He died in 1892.
You ought to get the story of his life and read it. It will bear to you
a thrilling message; for to read that book is to enter the presence of a
man of magnificent courage and indomitable faith.
A general at twenty-six, with a brilliant war record behind him, the
quality of his courage had been already proved; but the future was to
test it far more severely. The responsibility for the experiment at
Hampton was a terrible one, presenting problems which no nation had been
called upon to solve before. He had to face isolation, ignorance,
indifference, misrepresentation. At the best, after he had conquered
prejudice and won friends for the work, he had to spend half his time
begging for money, for he had to raise by personal efforts from fifty
thousand to eighty thousand dollars annually for the current expenses.
Yet in all that time and under all his burdens no one ever saw him
discouraged. He used to explain his position by a story which he called
his “rule of conduct.”
“Once there was an old colored man who could not be dissuaded from
working at an empty ’possum hole. ‘Ain’t no ’possum in dat hole? Dey’s
jest got to be, ’cause dey’s nuffin’ in de house fer supper’.” Or, as he
used to tell his children, “Once there was a woodchuck. Now woodchucks
can’t climb trees. Well, this woodchuck was chased by a dog, and came to
a tree. He knew that if he could get up this tree the dog could not
catch him. Now woodchucks can’t climb trees, but this one had to, so he
did.”
He had to, so he did, was the motto of General Armstrong’s life. “Doing
what can’t be done is the glory of living,” he once said. “For most
people,” said one of General Armstrong’s friends, “an obstacle is
something in the way to stop one from going on, but for General
Armstrong it merely meant something to climb over; and if he could not
climb all the way over, he would get up as high as possible, and then
crow!”
When you come to read the story of General Armstrong’s life you will
find that there is no finer picture in it than that of an evening when
he spoke at a little suburban church far down a side street. It was a
bitter winter night, with a driving storm of sleet, and when it was time
for the meeting to begin the audience consisted of a score or so of
humble people who evidently enough had no means to contribute, and a
dozen restless boys kicking their heels in the front pew. Then “in the
midst of the bleakness and emptiness rose the worn, gaunt soldier, as
bravely and gladly as if a multitude were hanging upon his words. His
deep-sunk eyes looked out beyond the bleakness of the scene into the
world of his ideals, and the cold little place was aglow with the fire
that was in him.”
Dangers, hardships, obstacles—upon these he had tried “his soul’s stuff”
all his life, but here was another and a more difficult test. Triumphant
in faith and unflinching in duty, he could meet even defeat in the
spirit of victory.
XXVII.
HOW TO BE HANDSOME.
Do you want to be handsome? I’ll tell you how.
First, look well to your health. Eat regularly and simply, and take
proper rest, in order to be healthy. Do not crowd the stomach. The
stomach can no more work all the time, night and day, than a horse; it
must have regular rest. The body must have proper rest also. Do not keep
late hours. Go to bed early. If you have work which must be done, it is
a good deal better to rise early in the morning and do it than it is to
sit up late at night and work.
Secondly, good teeth are essential to good looks. Brush the teeth
regularly with a soft brush morning and night, especially at night. Be
sure to go to bed at night with clean teeth.
Thirdly, look well to the ventilation of your bed-rooms. No one can have
a clear skin who breathes bad air. Fresh air is a preventive of a
multitude of diseases. Bad air is the cause of a great many premature
deaths.
Fourthly, cleanliness of the entire body is of vast importance. Some one
has said that “Cleanliness is next to godliness,” and some one else has
added, “And soap is a means of grace.” Handsome people not only eat
regularly and simply; they not only sleep regularly and look well to
proper ventilation; but handsome people will take regular baths.
Fifthly, more than all else, in order to look well you must wake up the
mind and soul. When the mind is awake, the dull, sleepy look passes away
from the eyes. Keep thinking pleasant and noble thoughts; do not read
trashy novels or books; read books which have something good in them.
Talk with people who know something. Be often in the company of those
who know more than you do. Hear lectures and sermons and profit by them.
If we listen and understand and heed, the mind and soul are awakened. So
much the better if the spiritual nature is aroused. Sometimes a plain
face is really glorified with the love of God and of man which shines
through it.
Lastly, keep a strong and vigorous body by taking plenty of wholesome
outdoor exercise, and do all the good you can.
Why not begin to grow handsome to-day?
[Illustration]
XXVIII.
PATIENCE.
[Illustration: PATIENCE.]
Patience is one of the marks of a high character. It might well be
called the habit of closing the mind against disagreeable and annoying
conditions. To acquire this habit so effectually as to hide even from
one’s self any sense of suffering or offense from contact with such
conditions is what the truly cultivated aim at. Life, it is true, is
full of trying things, but to let the mind dwell upon them only serves
to increase their offense to the feelings or the senses.
There are people, of course, who are incapable of self-concentration,
and whose imagination, if left free to gad about, seems always to fix
upon and exaggerate every element of disturbance. They live in what is
called an elementary stage of moral discipline, and are perpetually
fretting about things they cannot help. They are never able to shut down
the will against any unpleasantness. They permit merely accidental
conditions to exercise a kind of tyrannical sway over them, which, if
their minds were once bent to the practice of putting up with things,
would cease to present any annoyance whatever.
It is difficult, no doubt, to acquire this habit, but this is what
patience means in its highest sense. It is spiritual endurance, and its
chief power consists not so much in adding to the number of our joys as
in lessening the number of our sufferings. It is, therefore, a mark of
power over one’s self and a means of power over others. With patience
the outward success or failure of a man is a small thing compared with
that success which he has achieved within himself. And that kind of
success—the success which enables a man to laugh at failure and rise
superior to discouragements and difficulties—that kind of success is a
means of help and inspiration to all those about him.
If we consider the works of nature we shall see that nature’s most
beneficent operations are the results of patience. Anything which grows
must have time, and the best things in the world are generally those
things which demand the longest time for their growth and development.
The rank and short-lived weed reaches its full development in the
shortest possible time, but the oak, which is to stand for centuries,
demands the sunshine and the storm of years before its strength is fully
developed.
Now, boys and girls, one of the hardest demands which nature makes upon
people (especially upon young people, full of strength and energy and
ambition) is to wait for the results of growth. No man becomes instantly
strong morally; he must grow into strength. However great his ambition
and his zeal may be, no man becomes a scholar in a year. It takes time,
and lots of it. No man reaches at a single bound the full development of
his whole nature. He grows into strength. A good soldier cannot be made
without war, nor can a skillful seaman be made on land.
So in the race of life we must fight hard for all we get and be patient.
Whatever else may be true, or may not be true, only patient and
continued efforts—not hasty efforts—lead to success.
Before me lies a block of wood. It is full of knots. It seems to me I
can never split it. But I bravely make the attempt. The first blow makes
little impression. The axe springs back with a bound. Again and again I
strike. Then a tiny crack appears. A few more licks—and the block
yields. I have succeeded. Can you tell me which blow did the work? Was
it not the first blow and the last and all between? You have tried
something and failed. Try again. If you fail, try once more. And on and
on, keep trying until you win the victory.
XXIX.
THE BITER BIT.[4]
In the broad light of day a would-be highwayman sprang from the bushes
that skirted the “Big Road,” and with a pistol pointed at Eli’s head
commanded the wayfarer to hold up his hands. Without hesitation Eli
obeyed, grabbing his hat from his head while his hands were making the
ascent. Then he stood trembling, as if in great fear, and said:
“Lawdy, Boss, what is dat you got?”
The highwayman replied: “It’s a bulldog.”
“Kin he bark, Boss?” asked poor Eli.
“Certainly,” was the answer.
“Boss, I’ll give you a dollar des to hyeah dat dawg bark wunst,” said
humble Eli.
“Bang!” went the gun, and the ball went crashing through the woods. Eli
pulled out a silver dollar and handed it over to the would-be robber.
“Do hit ag’in, Boss,” said Eli.
A second, a third, a fourth, a fifth, a sixth time the dog barked, and
each time Eli paid a dollar for the fun. When the revolver had been
emptied the old negro asked pitifully:
“Boss, can’t he bark no mo’?”
On being assured that the dog could bark no more Eli said:
“Well, Boss, ain’t you got anuddah dawg?”
The robber said he was sorry, but he did not have another. Then Uncle
Eli said, as he ran his hand into his hip pocket:
[Illustration: A BITER BIT.]
“Boss, I got one uv dem dawgs myse’f, an’ I ’spec’ I’ll let you hyeah
mine bark some. Drap yo’ dawg, Boss, an’ drap hit quick,” he commanded
as he pointed his gun at the would-be robber’s head. Down went the other
man’s gun.
“Now drap dem dollars right ’long side uv dat gun. Be quick,” said Eli.
Down went the dollars.
“Now you git, an’ don’t you look back. Step lively, an’ ef you das’ to
look back you sho will hyeah sump’n impawtunt!”
XXX.
THE ALPHABET OF SUCCESS.