all girls, I think, ought to love the purely feminine occupation of
sewing. Since I am sure that many of the little girls who will read this
book know how to sew, I am going to tell you about some little sewing
that my wife did.
In 1903, the Ladies’ Home Journal, of Philadelphia, offered a prize of
fifty dollars for the best way to make pin-money at home. You know,
girls, that pin-money means pocket change or spending money. Many
hundreds of women all over the world sent in suggestions to the Ladies’
Home Journal, each one hoping, I am sure, that her suggestion would win
first prize. The following letter sent to my wife will tell you just how
her suggestion was received:
“THE LADIES’ HOME JOURNAL,
“Philadelphia. February 5, 1903.
“Dear Madam:
“It gives me much pleasure to tell you that among the hundreds of
letters received in response to the offer made in our January magazine
in connection with The Editor’s Want-Box, Mr. Bok has chosen your
offering as the one entitled to the first prize of fifty dollars. He
congratulates you upon your success and thanks you for the interest you
have shown.
“Our Treasurer will send you a check within a week.
Very truly yours,
“Wm. V. Alexander,
“Managing Editor.
“Mrs. Ella Floyd.”
The check came all right, girls, and my wife thought, as she said to me,
that in winning the prize she had found a new way to make pin-money—that
is, by telling others how to make pin-money at home.
Two hundred of the little articles were afterwards published from time
to time in The Ladies’ Home Journal. The first article of the series
appeared in the magazine for January, 1904, and my wife’s little story,
which won first money, was at the head of the list. I am going to give
here the whole of the little article, as published in The Ladies’ Home
Journal. Of course, I am proud that she won the prize, and I hope other
young ladies by-and-by may be the happy winners in such contests. And
here is the article:
“When one’s pin-money is all gone but twenty-five cents the question
comes as to the way to replenish it. One day when I found that I had
only that amount I invested it as follows:
1 yard of lawn .10
1 yard of lace .10
1 spool of cotton .05
———
.25
“The same day I made three baby caps as daintily as I could with these
materials. The next day I sold them for twenty-five cents each, and then
I had seventy-five cents. I then bought
1 yard of lawn .15
2½ yards of lace .25
2 yards of ribbon .25
2 tiny buckles .05
1 spool of cotton .05
———
.75
“With these materials I made two baby caps, somewhat larger than the
first ones, and trimmed more prettily. I found no trouble in selling
them for $1.50. Straightway I invested the sum in lawn, lace, ribbon,
etc., and as I had done so well with the caps I thought I would try my
hand on little bonnets. I made two. A friend offered me $5 for them
before they were finished. I accepted her offer and from that day to
this I have never been troubled about pin-money.
[Illustration: PIN-MONEY MADE WITH THE NEEDLE.]
“In four weeks’ time I made and sold twenty caps and eleven bonnets. The
material for the caps cost me $2.50—twelve and a half cents for each. I
sold them for twenty-five cents each. The material for the bonnets cost
me $8.25, or seventy-five cents each. I sold them for $2.50 each. So I
netted $21.75 for my work. The time which I devoted to this enterprise
was that which ordinarily I would have used in calling or in running up
bills for my husband to pay.
“Since the first four weeks of which I have spoken in detail I have made
more expensive caps and bonnets for babies from six months to about
three years old. The last one I made was of silk, beautifully trimmed,
tucked and hemstitched. I sold it for $6, making a clear profit of $3.
My husband says I’ll soon be in position to organize a trust.”
XLVI.
SELF-HELP.
If there is one idea for which more than any other the public school
system should stand, it is the idea of self-help. Self-help is the best
kind of help in the world, and one cannot learn this lesson too early in
life. Even little children—three, four, five, six and eight years
old—should be taught to work. Any little child is just as capable of
doing the little things in work as he is in play. Why should not the
little girl be taught to trim and wash the dress of her doll? Why should
not the little children be taught to sweep up the dirt that they have
scattered in play? Why should they not be taught to remove the dishes
from the table, brush up the crumbs, set back the chairs, pick up chips,
put the kindling wood in its place, bring the potatoes in from the
garden, help to pick over the berries, and so forth? We might argue this
question from now until doom’s day, and nobody, I think, would be able
to give any good reason why children should not be taught to do the
little things. Little children who are accustomed to having everything
done for them by others are very soon beset with the rust of laziness
and the canker of pride. Whereas, on the other hand, if children are
taught to help themselves as soon as and as much as they are able, it
will tend to improve their faculties, and will, at the same time, have a
good influence upon their dispositions.
Childhood and youth are periods of life which materially influence all
of its following periods, and whether the earlier years of one’s life be
passed in idleness and indolence, or in well-directed industry, is a
point on which greatly depends the worth or the worthlessness of human
character. Where is the man who guides his affairs with discretion, or
the woman that looketh well to the ways of her household, and yet was
not in some measure imbued with industrious and provident habits in
early life? On the other hand, who that has been treated until the age
of fifteen or twenty like a helpless infant, and had every want supplied
without being put to the necessity of either mental or bodily exertion,
was ever good for anything afterwards?
[Illustration: WASHING DOLLIE’S CLOTHES.]
The tendency of the age is by far too much in the direction of keeping
our young boys solely for the purpose of loafing about the streets, or
standing around the soda fountains on Sunday—and our young girls for
parties, social entertainments, picnics, excursions and the like. So
that by the time our boys and girls reach manhood and womanhood, they
despise honest labor and are afraid to engage in real hard work. A young
woman may know how to read and write—may understand grammar, history,
and geography—may sing sweetly and play the piano well; but, whatever
else she may know or may not know, if she does not know how to bake a
hoe-cake of bread, make her little brother or sister a pair of pants or
a plain dress, she is only half educated. In fact, every young woman
should not only know how to perform every duty connected with a
household, but every young woman should take some part in household
work. No girl need tell me that she really loves her mother if she is
willing to leave to her mother the work of washing the dishes, sweeping
and scouring the floors, caring for the little children, doing the
Monday washings, the house cleaning, and the like, while she devotes
herself to pleasure, novel reading, social calling, butterfly parties,
or playing rag-time music or singing rag-time songs.
The home and the public school are the two great agencies which are
jointly engaged, or which should be jointly engaged, in teaching
children to help themselves. If children are taught, as boys and girls,
to think for themselves, speak for themselves and act for themselves,
when they are old they will not forget the precious lesson, and will be
less likely to become burdens on the community. The highest ambition of
every American man and woman should be to be of some useful service to
the world; and the first step will be taken toward this noble end when
we have thoroughly learned the value and importance of the lesson of
self-help. First, learn to help yourself, and then you will be able to
see more clearly how to help others.
XLVII.
HENRY WARD BEECHER’S TESTIMONY.
First impressions are always most lasting. We may not recognize or
understand it at the time, but the boys and girls, the very young
people, whom God has committed to our care in the home or the
Sunday-school or the public school, gather in their early days, in the
formative and impressionable period of their lives, the inspirations and
impulses which shall guide them in after years either on the road to
good or on the road to ruin. I happen to have high testimony on this
point. It is the testimony of the grandest preacher who ever stood in an
American pulpit. I mean Henry Ward Beecher. The following testimony is
taken from a sermon of his preached in Plymouth Church, Brooklyn, on
Sunday, January 18, 1874. The subject of the sermon was “Soul Power.”
Among other things, Mr. Beecher said:
“In reading the life of Goethe, written by himself, you will notice how
he marks the various stages of his self-culture, and says, ‘At this
point I met such a man, and he was of great use to me in such and such
respects.’ Goethe’s educators were living men, active and powerful,
around about him.
“I can look back upon my own early life, and see how one and another
took me, and how one prepared me for another. I can see how the largest
natures did not always get access to me. It was late in life before my
father influenced me very much. I think it was a humble woman who was in
our family that first gained any considerable control over me. I feel
the effects of her influence to this day.
“I next came under the influence of a very humble serving-man. He opened
up new directions to me, and gave me new impulses. He was a colored man;
and I am not ashamed to say that my whole life, my whole career
respecting the colored race, in the conflict which was so long carried
on in this country, was largely influenced by the effect produced on my
mind when I was between eight and ten years of age, by a poor old
colored man named Charles Smith, who worked on my father’s farm. He did
not set out to influence me; he did not know that he did it; I did not
know it until a great while afterwards; but he gave me new impulses, and
impulses which were in the right direction; for he was a Godly and
hymn-singing man, who made wine fresh every night from the cluster. He
used to lie upon his humble bed (I slept in the same room with him) and
read his Testament, unconscious apparently that I was in the room; and
he would laugh and talk about what he read, and chuckle over it with
that peculiarly unctuous throat-tone which belongs to his race. I never
had heard the Bible really read before; but there, in my presence, he
read it and talked about it, to himself and to God. He turned the New
Testament into living forms right before me. It was a revelation and an
impulse to me.”
What noble testimony this is! And from what a noble source! All of us
have what is called influence, and, consciously or unconsciously, we are
all influencing others, especially the young. It is a matter worth our
deepest and most prayerful thought. If Charles Smith, “a poor old
colored man;” if Charles Smith, “the very humble serving-man;” if
Charles Smith, “the Godly and hymn-singing man,” was used of God to give
impulses—and impulses which were in the right direction—to a little boy
who was afterwards to become the greatest preacher that America has ever
known, may not some of us be likewise used of God for the glory of our
Common Master, even Christ, and for the good of our fellow-men? I tell
you, friends, we may. And when we think of the great friend of humanity,
Henry Ward Beecher, let us not forget to think of Charles Smith, who had
so much to do, according to Beecher’s own testimony, with giving this
great man a right start.
XLVIII.
ROUNDING UP A CHICKEN THIEF.
I was not the chief actor in the story which I shall now tell. I played
only a minor part. My father-in-law was “leading man.” Soon after I
married I accepted a very cordial invitation to take up my residence
with my wife’s parents. Our bed-rooms happened to be on the same floor,
so that it was very easy for us to hear in one room any unusual noise
made in the other. My mother-in-law was a great hand at the poultry
business. She had a large number of the choicest breeds, and she found
great pleasure in looking after them. Now, the old-folk’s bed-room was
at the rear. Our room was in front. Late one night I heard a voice
calling.
“Thomas! Thomas!”
It sounded sad and far-away. At first I thought it might have been a
ghost. I raised myself up and listened. Pretty soon I heard the voice
again, calling in strangely sepulchral tones.
“Thomas! Thomas!”
And then I could not be mistaken. It was my mother calling the old man.
Father drawled out sleepily,——
“What is it?”
“There’s somebody out there at my hen house, just as sure as you’re
born. Don’t you hear the chickens calling for help?”
There was a short silence. After awhile I heard the old lady say
impetuously,——
“Thomas, why don’t you get up and go and see after them chickens?”
There was another pause. By-and-by mother spoke again,——
“Thomas, you don’t need on your top-shirt. Go on, just as you are. My
chickens are in danger. If I were a man, I wouldn’t have stopped to put
on my pants even. You’re a coward—that’s what you are!”
Next I heard the old man speak. I do not know whether he was looking out
of the window or not, but I heard his say,——
“Hi, there, look out! I’m coming out there! Look out, I’m going to blow
your daylights out!”
If the old man meant this remark to impress his wife with his bravery
the effect was certainly lost on the woman, because I heard her say
louder than ever,——
“Get out of the way, you coward baby, you! I’ll go myself! Where’s my
slippers?”
In less than a minute I heard the old lady’s voice at the back door, at
the head of the steps which ran down into the yard. She said,——
“Bring the lamp, Thomas! Bring the lamp!”
[Illustration: “SON, ITS A MIGHTY LUCKY THING FOR YOU AND NANNIE THAT I
DIDN’T HAVE MY GUN.”]
Curiosity pulled me and my wife out of bed. I stepped quietly into the
hall, and stood well in the dark, not desiring to be in any way
conspicuous in the investigations which were proceeding. My wife was by
my side—trembling, anxious. Her angelic mother had already descended the
steps, and neither of us knew what fate might befall her there. Wife
whispered that we had better go to the rescue. We started for the door
where father stood with the lamp. On the way I stumbled against a little
table and knocked off a pitcher of ice-water, which fell to the floor
with a terrific crash. It sounded louder than usual, not only on account
of the stillness of the night but also on account of the fact that our
nerves were already keyed up to a very high tension by the exciting
events then taking place. At the sound in the hall, father turned
quickly and looked behind. The light flashed into our faces. He must
have thought we were ghosts or burglars. Immediately the lamp fell out
of the old man’s hands, and he went sailing down the back stairs,
hallooing at the top of his voice,——
“They’re in the house, wife! They’re in the house!”
When wife and I reached the door father was already, as I afterwards
learned, safely buried behind the chicken house, and mother was lodged
under the steps.
“Father!” I called out. “Father!”
There was no response.
“It’s me and Nannie, mother,” I said.
Still we heard nothing.
I went back to our room, and got our lamp. My wife was following me,
foot to foot. Returning, I descended the steps and stood on the last
one. Wife remained at the head of the steps, anxious, waiting, and ready
to fly back into the house at the first outcry.
“Father!” I called again. “Father! Mother! There’s nobody in the house
but me and Nannie. I made that noise myself, father. Where are you?”
Simultaneously the old folks emerged from their hiding-places.
The old lady said,——
“Thomas, you’re the biggest coward in all the world! I’ll never speak to
you again!”
Father addressed me, ignoring his wife’s complaint. Said he,——
“Son, it’s a mighty lucky thing for you and Nannie that I didn’t have my
gun.”
XLIX.
SHIELDS GREEN, THE MARTYR.
Near the south-east corner of the cemetery in Oberlin, Ohio, there
stands an unpretentious monument of clouded marble, about eight feet in
height, bearing the following inscriptions:
S. GREEN,
Died at Charlestown, Va., Dec. 2, 1859.
Aged 23 years.
J. A. COPELAND,
Died at Charlestown, Va., Dec. 2, 1859.
Aged 25 years.
L. S. LEARY,
Died at Harper’s Ferry, Va., Oct. 20, 1859.
Aged 24 years.
These colored citizens of Oberlin,
The Heroic Associates of the Immortal
JOHN BROWN,
Gave their lives for the Slave.
Et nunc servitudo etiam mortua est, laus Deo.
In 1876, Frederick Douglass, who was once an associate and intimate
friend of John Brown, lectured at Oberlin College. Among other things,
Mr. Douglass said that Shields Green, who had once been a student of
Oberlin College, was residing in the Douglass family shortly before the
raid on Harper’s Ferry. At the call of Brown, Green went with Douglass
to an appointed spot near the borders of Virginia. There John Brown
confided to them the details of his plans, including the capture of
Harper’s Ferry. Mr. Douglass objected to the plans as unwise and
hazardous, and, finding entreaty unavailing, he withdrew from the
enterprise. Shields Green, nevertheless, followed his old commander.
When John Brown was finally surrounded, Green and one other companion
were in the mountains on some errand. When they returned, they saw at a
glance that the rescue of Brown was impossible. Green’s companion
counseled flight, and did himself escape, but Shields Green—the former
Oberlin student—replied that he preferred to “go down and die with the
old man,” meaning John Brown.
And he did.
There is scarcely a more touching incident than this in all our national
history.
L.
AIMING AT SOMETHING.
It is true, boys and girls, that it is what you hit, not what you aim
at, that counts; but, nevertheless, it is a very important thing to take
the right aim. The man who aims deliberately at the center of the target
stands a better chance, a hundred to one, than the man who shoots
without taking aim. So, in life, that boy or girl who has a purpose—who
is aiming at something—will be more successful than those boys and girls
who have no plans and who aim at nothing.
[Illustration: AIMING AT SOMETHING.]
It is not sufficient, in the moral world, to aim at something, but every
boy and girl should aim at the best things. The best and highest things
in this world are the unseen things, the eternal things, the things that
will last forever. Money is a good thing, but there is something higher
than money. A high position in the business or professional or political
world, is a good thing, but there is something higher and better than
office and position. Character is the grandest, the highest and best
thing in this world. We include in this one little word “character” a
world of things. Honor, uprightness, speaking the truth, dealing fairly
with people, being willing to help the lowly and unfortunate, paying
your debts promptly, these things, and many other things like them, are
included in the one word “character.” And these are the things that are
worth while in this world. These are the things that every boy and girl
should aim at. It may not be possible for every boy and girl to become a
millionaire; it may not be possible for every boy and girl to fill high
offices in this world, or succeed in large business enterprises; but one
thing is certain: every boy can be a good and true boy, every girl can
be a noble and beautiful girl. Beautiful as to conduct, as to words and
deeds, I mean. Good boys are the fathers of good men. Pure girls are the
mothers of pure women. For, what, after all, is a boy? And what is a
girl? What is a man? What is a woman? I will tell you. A boy is a little
man—that’s all; and a man is a grown-up boy. A girl is a little
woman—that’s all; and a woman is a grown-up girl.
It is important, then, that boys and girls should aim at the right
things, the good, the true and noble things early in life. What boys and
girls aim at, in nine cases out of ten, they will reach as men and
women. And to help you in taking the proper aim early in life, I am
going to give you something to aim at. Let every boy and girl make this
little motto his rule of life:
Know something—know it well;
Do something—do it well;—
And be Somebody!
LI.
“THE BLACK SHEEP” OF THE REYNOLDS FAMILY.
Will Reynolds was “the black sheep” of the Reynolds family. He knew it
and felt it, because he had been frequently slighted and treated with
contempt by his relatives. The only person who never lost faith in him
was his mother. She always felt that there was something good in her
wayward son, and often said that it would show itself some day. But
Will’s mother died in the early stages of his backslidings. Will’s
father married the second time, and the boy, finding it impossible to
get along with his stepmother, left home. He went from bad to worse.
Being arrested on the charge of drunkenness and vagrancy, he sent to his
two brothers, who were prosperous brokers in D. St., asking them to pay
his fine. Word came back that they would not interfere in his behalf.
His brothers sent word that he had brought the trouble upon himself and
he must get out of it the best way he could. Will was sent to the Work
House for six months. And nobody’s hand was raised to help him.
While he was serving his time, his only sister, a young woman not yet
grown, died. He knew nothing of it until about a month after it
occurred, and then he read the account in an old newspaper which he had
borrowed from a fellow prisoner. The news of his sister’s death deeply
affected him. His sentence was shortened by one month on account of his
good behaviour. The first thing he did, on coming to the city, was to
visit the family lot in Myrtle Hill Cemetery. He carried with him some
wild flowers and green leaves, being too poor to purchase a floral
offering from the dealers in such things. With uncovered head, he knelt
and placed these tokens of respect on the graves of his mother and
sister. This done, he stood in silence for a moment, and then wept like
a little child. While riveted to the spot, he made a solemn vow that he
would quit the old life and make a man of himself. “It’s in me,” he said
to himself, “and I’m going to prove it.”
[Illustration: “HE CARRIED WITH HIM SOME WILD FLOWERS AND GREEN
LEAVES.”]
Slowly he turned away from the sacred place. He went directly to the
offices of his brothers. He had been furnished with a new suit of
clothes, according to custom, upon leaving prison, and so made quite a
decent appearance. He found his oldest brother, John B. Reynolds, seated
at a desk in the front office. He entered at once and said,—
“Well, John, I suppose sister is dead?”
“How dare you,” exclaimed John, rising to his feet,—“how dare you to
speak of Annie as your sister, you jailbird, you miserable convict! Get
out of here this minute! Leave this room at once, and never set foot in
it again!”
There was fire in the man’s eye as he spoke. Will attempted to speak,
but was not permitted. With tears streaming down his cheeks, he left the
room. He had gone to tell of his new determination and ask for another
chance, and this was the reception which he met. On his way down the
steps, he came face to face with his other brother, Thomas Reynolds.
Thomas tried to pass without speaking, but Will intercepted him.
“Tom,” he said, “I’m your brother still. I’m not asking help now; I only
came to tell you that I’m going to do better. I thought you would be
glad to hear it.”
“I want to hear nothing from you,” said Thomas. “You’ve disgraced us
forever, and you can go your way; we don’t want anything to do with you;
we don’t want to see you again!”
Will went forth into the street weeping.
* * * * *
Thirty years have come and gone since Will was driven away from the
offices of his brothers. What changes have these years worked?