Men’s Branch of the Y. M. C. A. Through the Secretary of the
Association, he soon secured a place as a day laborer in the machine
shops of the Big Bend Railroad. After securing regular employment, he
went to live in the Y. M. C. A. building. At the close of his first
year’s service with the railroad, he was promoted from a common laborer
and made an apprentice. After four or five years, he had learned the
trade and was receiving the daily wages of a machinist. After twelve
years with the company, he was made the Master Machinist. At the end of
fifteen years’ service, he was made Superintendent of Construction. Five
years later he was made a Division Superintendent. At the expiration of
more than twenty-five years of faithful service, Will Reynolds was able
to write after his name, “General Manager of the Big Bend Railroad.” He
had, also, been married for several years, and was the father of five
children.
Will’s father and brothers lost sight of him for nearly twelve years, or
until the papers announced his appointment as Master Machinist of the
Big Bend Railroad. They suddenly awoke to find that their conclusions
that he had probably long since died a drunkard’s death, or had gone off
as a tramp and had been killed, or was again serving a sentence in
prison somewhere—were wrong.
The same week that Will was made Superintendent of Construction of the
Big Bend Railroad, the newspapers spread all over the country the news
that Col. Oliver P. Reynolds had committed suicide. According to their
way, the newspapers gave all the sickening details of the tragedy,
together with the whole family history. They said that Col. Reynolds had
been driven to suicide by his wife. They said that she was much younger
than he; that she was extravagant; that she was a leader in gay society;
they told how, on her account, Col. Reynolds had driven his son away
from home fifteen years before; they declared that the old man’s life
had been a hell to him; and that his wife had brought him almost to the
verge of bankruptcy, and, in order to escape facing open disgrace, he
had murdered himself.
When Will heard of his father’s death, he hastened at once to the city,
but was denied admission to the family residence, and had to attend the
funeral in the little church around the corner not as a member of the
family but merely as an outsider.
We are not concerned in this story with the fate of Will’s stepmother.
But, as to Will’s brothers,—well, the crash came eight or ten years
after the death of Col. Reynolds, or a short while before Will became
the General Manager of the Big Bend Railroad. John B. Reynolds and
Thomas Reynolds, members of the firm of John B. Reynolds & Bro., had
been arrested and placed in the Tombs, charged with misappropriating
$175,000 of trust funds. Again the family history was rehearsed in the
newspapers. The papers did not fail to recall the suicide of Col.
Reynolds, nor did they fail to tell how these two brothers had earlier
in life turned their backs on a younger brother.
[Illustration: “WELL, JOHN, I SUPPOSE SISTER IS DEAD?”]
Will read the papers, and, saying to his wife, “Well, Mary, perhaps
they’ll be glad to see me this trip,” he went immediately to offer his
services to his brothers.
He had prophesied correctly. John and Thomas were very glad to see him.
They had no friends among those high in financial circles because they
had for many years conducted their business in such a way that business
men had no confidence in them. They had no credit and could get nobody
to go on their bonds. Will took in the situation at a glance. He had
been thoughtful enough to bring along with him the leading attorney of
the Big Bend Railroad, and he put matters straightway into his hands.
Bail was arranged, the brothers were released, and the lawyer then
turned his attention to the prosecutors. It was discovered that almost
half of the amount stolen was the property of Simon B. Nesmith,
President of the Big Bend Railroad. When Will Reynolds and the lawyer
found that their own superior officer had been so heavily hit by John B.
Reynolds & Bro., they came near fainting. Fortunately Nesmith when he
heard the whole story agreed not to prosecute, and not only said that he
would be satisfied with any settlement that the Railroad’s Attorney
might arrange but also volunteered to see the others concerned and use
his influence in having them do likewise.
In a short time matters were adjusted, and John Reynolds and Thomas
Reynolds were saved from prison. But they lost all their earthly
possessions and their brother, “the black sheep” of the family, had to
secure them for the sum of $40,000 besides.
John B. Reynolds and Thomas Reynolds came to their senses. It was their
time to cry now. Amidst great sobs they said,——
“We treated you wrongly, brother Will; we ought to have helped you many
years ago; we are so sorry we didn’t; and it was such a small matter,
too.”
But Will said,——
“Don’t talk about the past: I’m your brother still. Go and do as I did.
Start over and make men of yourselves—you’ll have enough time. That’s
all I ask.”
LII.
THE HOLY BIBLE.
I heard a minister say the other day that a mother had not necessarily
done much for her boy because she had bought him a nice Bible and put it
in his trunk, when he was about to leave home to seek his fortune in the
world. I think it wrong for anybody—minister or what not—to indulge in
such loose and flippant talk. The effect is bad—always bad, and no hair
splitting, and no higher criticism, and no curiously ingenious
explanations can mend the matter. As for me, give me the old-fashioned
mother who sends her son out into the world with a Bible in his trunk,
and give me the old-fashioned boy who reads that Bible every night with
tears in his eyes, as he thinks of the old folks at home and of their
simple lives devoted to Jesus Christ. Give me the man, woman or child,
whose hands touch the Bible reverently, instead of slinging it about as
a dictionary or some common dime novel. Give me the plain old fellow who
quickly takes leave of that circle in which critics are proceeding to
ably explain away certain chapters of the Bible.
As for me, I want no new theories about the Bible—no new versions—no new
criticisms. No man has a right to weaken the faith of others. No man has
a right to knock away the staff that supports the crippled wayfarer. And
no man has a right to tell an aged mother that it does no good to give
her boy a Bible unless he can suggest a better substitute. Destroy the
old-fashioned idea concerning the Bible, and we shall have a nation of
infidels defying God, defying the law, and repeating the licentiousness
and horrors of the French Revolution. We should make the Bible first in
all things. Make the Bible first in the family, in the Sunday-school and
church, make it first in state and society, and we shall have a Republic
that will grow brighter and brighter as the years come and go, and then
we “shall go out with joy, and be lead forth with peace: and the
mountains and the hills shall break forth before us into singing, and
all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.”
LIII.
ANDREW CARNEGIE’S ADVICE TO YOUNG MEN.
One of the bravest and truest friends of humanity that I know of is
Andrew Carnegie, the great iron king. He has retired from business now,
and is spending his time in giving away his money for the good of his
fellow men. In addition to smaller gifts, he has given to the city of
New York $5,200,000 for libraries for all the people. He has given
$10,000,000 to Universities in Scotland, his native country, and he has
also founded the “Carnegie Institution,” of Washington, D. C., with the
liberal sum of $10,000,000. Every colored boy and girl in America has a
special reason for thanking Mr. Carnegie for his splendid gifts to
Tuskegee and Wilberforce and other colored schools. In addition to the
$600,000 given toward Tuskegee’s endowment fund, he has given Tuskegee
and Wilberforce library buildings, costing about $20,000 each. The words
of such a humanitarian and philanthropist should carry weight
everywhere, and should be studied by all. Among other things, Mr.
Carnegie says, in speaking to young men:
“Do not make riches, but usefulness, your first aim, and let your chief
pride be that your daily occupation is in the line of progress and
development; that your work, in whatever capacity it may be, is useful
work, honestly conducted, and as such ennobles your life.
“Whatever your salary be, save a little; live within your means. The man
who saves a little from his income has given the surest indication of
the very qualities that every employer is seeking for.
“The great successes of life are made by concentration. Do not think you
have done your full duty when you have performed the work assigned you.
You will never rise if you only do this.
“You hear a good deal about poverty nowadays, and the cry goes up to
abolish poverty, but it will be the saddest day of civilization when
poverty is no longer with us. It is from the soil of poverty that all
the virtues spring. Without poverty, where will your inventor, your
artist, your philanthropist come from?
“There are three classes of young men in the world. One starts out to be
a millionaire. Another seeks reputation, perhaps at the cannon’s mouth.
A third young man, who will be successful, is he who starts out in life
with self-respect and who is true to himself and his fellow-men. He
cannot fail to win.”
LIV.
DIRECTIONS FOR LITTLE GENTLEMEN.
1. The essential part of good breeding is the practical desire to afford
pleasure and to avoid giving pain. Any boy possessing this desire
requires only opportunity and observation to become a little gentleman.
2. Never be guilty of what are called practical jokes; that is to say,
never place a pin in a chair so that somebody may come along and sit on
the pin’s point; never pull back a chair when a person is about to sit
down, and in that way cause such a person to fall on the floor. No
little gentleman will play such tricks.
3. Whenever a lady enters a room, it is proper for boys to rise, if they
are seated, but you must never offer a lady a chair from which you have
just risen, if there is another chair in the room.
4. Never engage in conversation while a person is singing. It is an
insult not only to the singer but to the company.
5. Always take off your hat when assisting a lady to or from a carriage.
6. If in a public place, you pass and re-pass persons of your
acquaintance, it is only necessary to salute them on the first occasion.
[Illustration: DIRECTIONS FOR LITTLE GENTLEMEN.]
7. Do not wear anything that is so conspicuous as to attract attention;
and, particularly, avoid the ruffian style.
8. Do not lose your temper. Particularly if you are playing innocent
games for amusement and happen to lose; avoid the exhibition of anxiety
or vexation at lack of success.
9. In all your associations, keep constantly in view the old adage, “too
much familiarity breeds contempt.”
LV.
THE LETTER OF THE LAW.
It was a bright and balmy afternoon in spring. Mrs. Anderson, in keeping
with the practice of neighborly kindness which was in vogue in the
Berkshire village, had sent a large plate of ice-cream across the street
to Mrs. Van Ingen’s. The cream was quite toothsome, and little Annie Van
Ingen, “six years old, going on seven,” felt when the plate had been
emptied that she would like to have some more.
With tears in her eyes she confided her wish to her mother. The maternal
explanation, “My darling, mama didn’t make any cream to-day,” failed to
satisfy Annie.
“Well, where did you get that we had?” she asked.
“Mrs. Anderson was kind enough to send it to us,” answered the patient
mother.
“I’m going over there and ask her for some more,” abruptly interposed
little Annie.
“No, no, no, my precious;” said Mrs. Van Ingen, “you mustn’t think of
doing such a thing. Mama doesn’t want the neighbors to know that her
little Annie is a beggar.”
[Illustration: “MAMMA TOLD ME NOT TO ASK FOR ANY MORE CREAM.”]
For reply Annie’s tears flowed fast and faster. Finally, seeing that
nothing else would avail, to pacify Annie, Mrs. Van Ingen said,——
“I’ll tell you what to do, dearie; you go over to Mrs. Anderson’s and
tell her that you’ve come to play awhile with her little girl. Now, be
careful, don’t ask her for any cream, but I’m sure she’ll offer you some
before you come back.”
The crying stopped immediately, and pretty soon Annie went tripping
across the street to play with Mrs. Anderson’s little girl.
Mrs. Anderson met her at the door and kissed her affectionately.
“I wanted some more cream,” volunteered little Annie; “the cream you
sent mama was very nice, and I wanted some more. Mama told me not to ask
you for any more, but she said that if I would come over here and play
with Bessie you would give me some more before I went back home. So, I
have come over to play with Bessie.”
And, having relieved her mind of its burden, little Annie, with perfect
delight and joyous innocence, ran hastily up the stairs to the nursery
in search of Bessie.
LVI.
THE BEST BOOKS FOR CHILDREN.
According to some of the most thoughtful people who have lived in this
world, a good way to deal with children in regard to the books that they
are to read is to give them the freedom of a library which contains a
few thousand of the best books in the world, and let them browse at
will. This was originally, I think, Charles Lamb’s idea. Charles Lamb
was a lovable man who wrote readable books for children. But this
statement of Lamb implies, of course, the possession of a good library.
Unfortunately many of my readers will not be found among those who live
in homes which are well-stocked with books. That is one reason why it
seems wise to make one or two suggestions as to the best books for
children to read. If you cannot have all of the best books in the world,
it is important that you should have at least a few of the best books in
the world; and I shall name a few which I believe every boy and girl in
America ought to know something about.
[Illustration: THE BEST BOOKS FOR CHILDREN.]
For children between the ages of six and twelve, I should put at the
head of my list Daniel Defoe’s “Robinson Crusoe,” a good edition of the
“Arabian Nights,” and Hans Andersen’s fairy tales. In addition to these
I would get Hawthorne’s “Wonder Book,” Andrew Lang’s “Fairy Book” and
some book full of absurd fun like Lear’s “Nonsense Book” or “Alice in
Wonderland.” We must not forget Joel Chandler Harris’s “Uncle Remus,”
for it ought to have a place in every collection of children’s best
books. Kipling’s “Jungle Book” is good, and so is Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s
Progress.” “Tom Brown at Rugby,” Lamb’s Shakespeare Tales, and Ruskin’s
“King of the Golden River” must not be overlooked. John Burrough’s
“Birds and Beasts” might as well end the list, since I haven’t room to
give all the best books for children.
But whatever else you do, boys and girls, if you wish to widen your
spiritual horizons, do not close the windows on the emotional and
imaginative side by neglecting poetry. Somebody has said that “There is
in every one of us a poet whom the man has outlived.” “Verse and Prose
for Beginners” by Horace E. Scudder is a delightful book to have, and
another book of poems called the “Children’s Garland.”
The best books for a child are the books that widen his world. A man or
woman in middle life or old age who loves poetry and great pictures and
statues, who is familiar with Shakespeare, who has a sense of humor and
a love of nature, knows a deal about the joy of living and is full of
resources. No one can ever have these resources and that joy who has not
had them from early childhood.
LVII.
THE RIGHT TO PLAY.
The right to play is one of the divine rights of men and women, of boys
and girls, and is just as essential to the peace, happiness and
prosperity of the world as is the right to pray. Never be afraid or
ashamed, my young friends, of honest, vigorous, healthy play. Dominoes,
lawn tennis, baseball, football, ping-pong, golf, foot-racing, leaping
and jumping, boxing and wrestling, pole-vaulting, punching the bag,
swinging dumb-bells or Indian clubs, and a hundred other things are
perfectly sane and wholesome amusements for old or young. To refrain
from all forms of amusements is just as destructive of happiness and
injurious to character as is the other extreme of indulging too freely
in pleasures and pastimes. Puritan austerity and unrestrained excess are
alike to be condemned. But a certain amount of play—play of the right
kind and within proper limits—is a divine right of young people. Young
people must have fun and relaxation, and, if they do not find it in
their own homes, it will be sought in other and perhaps dangerous
places.
For myself, I believe that anybody is an enemy to young people who
desires to repress and crush out the naturally buoyant spirits of
childhood and youth, and he is a benefactor of humanity who makes it a
part of his business to see that proper places of amusement are provided
for the young people. Aside from the physical advantages of play, there
are moral advantages also. A man who helps to keep his body in good
condition by regular exercise is, in that way, beyond a doubt, adding to
the number of his days; that is to say, he will live longer than the man
who doesn’t play. But beyond and above that, he is a happier man while
he lives; he gets more joy and satisfaction out of life than the other
fellow. Sane and healthy play tends to blot out the remembrance of cares
and hardship; it gives our minds something else to think about. But
young people must be careful not to become absorbed in these things. I
believe in play; I believe in pleasure, in fun. But when I see young
people, or old people for that matter, devoting all their time to
wheeling, footballing, card parties, the giddy whirl of the dance, the
bacchanalian hilarity of the dram shop, and so on, I am forced to say
that things which may be right when taken in moderation, and as a relief
from the overtaxing burdens of life, are wrong when they become the
chief object for which one lives.
LVIII.
A CHRISTMAS PRESENT.
A forsaken little kitten wandered up and down the street on the day
before Christmas. It had no home; it had no name; it had no ribbon
around its neck; and it had no saucer of nice milk in one corner.
It began to grow dark, and colder too, and the stars came peeping out,
and the first flakes of a real Christmas snowstorm began floating down
through the air. The kitten mewed a trembling little mew, which told as
plainly as it could that it was very hungry, and it fluffed out its fur
to keep itself warm.
Now, somewhere along that street, up on top of a house (hiding behind a
chimney where he couldn’t be seen), was Santa Claus, getting everything
in shape before starting on his evening round. When old Santa saw that
lonesome little kitten strolling around he smiled—yes, old Santa Claus
smiled. He smiled because he knew that two blocks up the street a little
girl was standing with her nose pressed against the window, looking out
into the deepening night.
He had seen her as he went by. And he had also seen the poor little
supper laid out for two on the table, and heard her say to her mother,
in a quavering voice:
“Not even one present, mamma—not the teeniest little one!”
[Illustration: “MAMMA, I HEAR OLD SANTA’S BELLS AND OF COURSE THIS IS
THE PRESENT HE BROUGHT.”]
“No, Susie,” her mother had answered, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get anything
for my little girl this year, but—you know there wasn’t any money dear.”
And there was a tremble in her mother’s voice too.
Susie wiped away the tears, and turned to look out of the window.
“Perhaps,” she said to herself; “perhaps Santa Claus has something for
me after all!”
Now, the sad, really dreadful part about it was that Santa Claus didn’t
have one single thing for Susie in his pack. Perhaps it was because she
had moved into that house since last Christmas, or perhaps for once old
Santa had made a mistake. Anyway he was just saying to himself: “Why,
bless me, what shall I do about it?” when he caught sight of that
shivering little kitten.
“The very thing,” he thought. “I’ll give them to each other!” and he
chuckled till his reindeer looked around to see what was the matter.
And what happened next? Well, that kitten never knew really. It only
seemed as if there was a sudden rush and jingle of bells, which
frightened it so that it flew up the street as fast as its four little
legs could carry it, until it saw a small friendly face at a window, and
rushed up some steps nearby. Then a door opened, and two soft little
arms picked it up gently from the cold snow and a voice cried:
“Oh, mamma, see the poor little kitten—it’s so cold—oh, we’ll keep it,
won’t we, mamma! The poor little thing. Do you think it would drink
milk?”
Would it drink milk? What a question to ask about a little kitten. While
the little kitten was nearly choking itself trying to drink a saucerful
of milk and purr at the same time there was a jingle of bells outside,
and Susie said:
“Mamma, I hear old Santa’s bells, and, of course, this is the present he
brought.”
LIX.
DRINKING AND SMOKING.
There is food for reflection in a saying of somebody who lived a great
many years ago, ’way back in 1878. Here it is:
“Our government land costs one dollar and twenty-five cents an acre, and
good whiskey two dollars a bottle. How many men die landless who during
their lives have swallowed whole townships—trees and all?”
Alongside of this statement might go this other one, which is equally
true:
“The young man who smokes three five-cent cigars a day—and many young
men use double the quantity at double the price—puffs away enough money
in the course of ten years to give anyone a handsome start in business,
or to provide anyone a comfortable home.”
[Illustration: DRINK AND TOBACCO.]
From a purely business standpoint, not to say anything about religion or
morals—from a purely business standpoint young people drink too much and
smoke too much. Every five cents spent for beer is five cents thrown
away. Every ten cents spent for whiskey is a total loss. It would bring
far better returns if it were put into a savings bank and laid away for
a rainy day. As for smoking, it is a silly, senseless, expensive habit.
It literally burns money up. The following figures show the expense of
smoking two cigars a day at five cents each from the age of twenty to
the end of each period of five years up to the age of seventy, 6 per
cent compound interest semi-annually being reckoned upon the money:
Two Cigars a Day at 5 Cents each.
From the age of: No. Years. Principal. Prin. & Int.
20 to 25 years 5 $ 182.50 $ 209.21
20 to 30 〃 10 365.00 490.39
20 to 35 〃 15 574.50 868.25
20 to 40 〃 20 730.00 1,376.07
20 to 45 〃 25 912.50 2,058.44
20 to 50 〃 30 1,095.00 3,094.99
20 to 55 〃 35 1,277.50 4,367.46
20 to 60 〃 40 1,460.00 6,078.73
20 to 65 〃 45 1,642.50 8,378.52
20 to 70 〃 50 1,825.00 11,469.25
Boys, I am glad to be able to put these figures down where you can see
them, and study them for yourselves. I want you to reflect upon them. It
is not what you make, but it is what you save that makes you rich. If
you ever expect to be even well-to-do men, not to speak of being rich
men, you must begin early to learn and practice the habit of saving your
money. If you will learn to leave out of your expenses the bills for
whiskey and tobacco it will not be hard for you to see then how you can
also save by cutting down your expenses for trifles, such as
knickknacks, candy, red lemonade, peanuts, etc. First in importance
among public institutions, next to the church and the school house, I
place the savings bank. No matter what your occupation, no matter what
your salary, it is possible for every young person to save something out
of his earnings, however small they may be. But if this habit of saving
is not acquired in early life it will be very hard to learn it later.
Saving is not the miser’s habit necessarily, nor is it the spirit of
avarice and parsimony. It is prudence and forethought. Money is a good
thing. It is the love of money—not money—that is the root of all evil.
LX.
THE NICKEL THAT BURNED IN FRANK’S POCKET.
Deacon Hepworth kept a little fish market.
“Do you want a boy to help you?” asked Frank Shaw one day.
“Can you give good weight to my customers and take good care of my
pennies?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Frank.
Forthwith he took his place in the little store, weighed the fish and
kept the room in order.
“A whole day for fun, fireworks and noise to-morrow!” exclaimed Frank,
as he buttoned his white apron about him the day before the Fourth of
July. A great trout was thrown down on the counter by Ned Tant, one of
Frank’s playmates.
[Illustration: “A QUARTER, MA’AM.”]