PART III.—RELATION TO GOD.

CHAPTER. PAGE.

21. BE A CHRISTIAN. 239

22. BE PRAYERFUL. 249

23. BE A BIBLE STUDENT. 261

24. BE A SABBATH OBSERVER. 275

25. BE A CHURCH MEMBER. 287

26. BE A WORKER FOR JESUS. 299

27. BE A WITNESS FOR JESUS. 309

28. BE LOVING. 319

29. BE HOPEFUL. 329

30. BE FAITHFUL. 339

LIST OF THOSE WHO HAVE WRITTEN INTRODUCTIONS TO CHAPTERS.

CHAPTER.

1. ROBERT J. BURDETTE. One of America’s moral humorists.

2. ADOLPH SUTRO. Former mayor of San Francisco.

3. JOSHUA LEVERING. A noted Christian business man.

4. O. O. HOWARD. General during the Civil War.

5. BOOKER T. WASHINGTON. The foremost colored educator and orator of

the day.

6. J. T. RICH. A beloved Governor of Michigan.

7. GEORGE S. CULL. The author’s instructor during boyhood.

8. GEORGE W. BAIN. Colonel in the Civil War, and a temperance orator.

9. ASA CLARK, M. D. Supt. State Insane Asylum, Stockton, California.

10. MARSHALL FIELD. One of Chicago’s most honored and prosperous

business men.

11. T. T. GEER. Governor of Oregon.

12. F. W. WARREN. Member of the United States Senate.

13. AARON S. ZOOK. A widely known lawyer and lecturer.

14. GEORGE T. ANGELL. President and founder of the American Humane

Educational Society.

15. THOMAS J. MORGAN. General in Civil War, Commissioner of Indian

affairs under President Harrison.

16. NEAL DOW. Former Governor of Maine. The “Grand Old Man” of

temperance.

17. H. H. HADLEY. Colonel in Civil War. General of the Inter-State

Blue Ribbon Army.

18. ANTHONY COMSTOCK. Secretary of the New York Society for the

Suppression of Vice.

19. LYMAN J. GAGE. A prominent banker and a member of President

McKinley’s cabinet.

20. JOHN CLARK RIDPATH. Historian of the United States.

21. SAMUEL FALLOWS. Bishop Reformed Episcopal Church.

22. GEORGE C. LORIMER. Minister, author and lecturer.

23. JAMES H. BROOKES. An able Bible expositor and writer.

24. WILBUR F. CRAFTS. A noted defender of the Lord’s Day.

25. WAYLAND HOYT. A writer and preacher of prominence.

26. C. C. MCCABE. Bishop of the M. E. Church.

27. H. H. WARREN. An eminent clergyman.

28. WARREN RANDOLPH. A minister of prominence.

29. H. L. HASTINGS. Editor and preacher.

30. OPIE RODWAY. Evangelist to whom the author owes much.

PREFACE.

Boyhood is one of the happiest periods of life. “Ye little know,” said

Robert Burns, “the ill ye court when manhood is your wish.” Taking a

look backward Lord Byron cried, “Ah, happy years once more, who would

not be a boy?” Thomas Moore says, in his beautiful poem: “Oft in the

Stilly Night:”

“_The smiles, the tears of boyhood’s years,

The words of love then spoken;

The eyes that shone now dimmed and gone,

The cheerful hearts now broken!_

“_Thus in the stilly night

Ere slumber’s chain has bound me,

Sad mem’ry brings the light

Of other days around me._”

“There is no boy so poor,” said Phillips Brooks, “so ignorant, so

outcast, that I do not stand in awe before him.” “I feel a profounder

reverence for a boy than a man,” said President Garfield. “I never meet

a ragged boy on the street without feeling that I owe him a salute, for

I know not what possibilities may be buttoned up under his coat.” “Why,

bless me! Is that the boy who did so gallantly in those two battles?”

asked President Lincoln as a lad from the gunboat Ottawa was introduced

to him. “Why, I feel as though I should take off my hat to him, and not

he to me.”

“Get out of my way! What are you good for anyhow?” asked a cross man to

a lad who happened to be standing in his way. The boy replied, “They

make men out of such things as I am.” How true. That dirty boy taken by

a philanthropist in New Orleans, only for the reason that he was an

orphan, became Sir Henry M. Stanley, who found Livingstone and opened

Africa. About fifty years ago, when New York City sought to aid her

homeless children, an agent called on Judge John Green, of Tixston,

Indiana, to inquire if he would take a boy. Mr. Green said, “I will, if

you will bring me the raggedest, dirtiest and ugliest one of the lot.” A

boy by the name of John Brady more than filled the bill. He was

accepted, educated and became a missionary to Alaska. So suitable a man

was he for commissioner of that unexplored land of wealth, that

President Harrison appointed him governor.

Who can value the worth of a boy? Like Moses, Luther, or Lincoln, he

might rise to bless a nation. Boyhood is the blossom that ripens into

manhood. It is the formative period of one’s character. Said Lord

Collingwood to a young friend, “You must establish a character before

you are twenty-five that will serve you all life.” The building of such

is the greatest earthly task, and he is the greatest man “who chooses

right with the most invincible resolution, who resists the sorest

temptation from within and without, who is most fearless under menaces

and frowns, whose reliance on truth, on virtue, and on God, is most

unfaltering.”

To aid in the growth of such is this work written. It is hoped that it

will be transformed into an epitome, a registry of the reader’s own

life—a compilation and condensation of the best things he shall finally

leave to those who survive him. For it should

—“_to one of these four ends conduce,

For wisdom, piety, delight or use_.”

Incorporated herein are the best things of many books; the thoughts of

noble men which by the power of a just appreciation and of a retentive

memory may be made one’s own. Of those who have written introductions to

this work, some have since retired from their official positions, and

some are dead. The stories gathered from many sources illustrate great

principles, which, if carefully heeded will conduce to a happy and manly

life; for

—“_He most lives

Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best._”

[Illustration: Yours truly. William P. Pearce.’]

Success Maxims

1. Have a definite aim.

2. Go straight for it.

3. Master all details.

4. Always know more than you are expected to know.

5. Remember that difficulties are only made to be overcome.

6. Treat failures as stepping stones to further effort.

7. Never put your hand out farther than you can draw it back.

8. At times be bold; always be prudent.

9. The minority often beats the majority in the end.

10. Make good use of other men’s brains.

11. Listen well, answer cautiously, decide promptly.

12. Preserve, by all means in your power, “a sound mind in a sound

body.”

PART I

Relation to Self

CHAPTER I

Be Neat

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER I

BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE

You can make yourself look an inch taller by neat, well-fitting dress.

You can actually make yourself taller by an erect, manly carriage.

Slovenliness is contagious. It communicates itself from the dress to the

character. The boy who slouches and slumps in figure and gait, is

dangerously apt to slump morally. The dust and grime on your clothes is

liable to get into your brain. The dirt under your finger-nails is

likely to work into your thoughts. Grease spots down the front of your

coat will destroy self-respect almost as quickly as a habit of lying.

Tidiness is one of the cheapest luxuries in the world. It is also one of

the most comfortable. When you know, when you are “dead sure” that you

are just right—“perfectly correct”—from hat to shoe-tie, the King of

England couldn’t stare you out of countenance; he couldn’t embarrass

you, and, he wouldn’t if he could.

[Illustration: yours Sincerely, Robert J. Burdette]

CHAPTER I

BE NEAT

A high column was to be built. The workmen were engaged, and all went to

work with a will. In laying a corner, one brick was set a trifle out of

line. This was unnoticed, and as each course of bricks was kept in line

with those already laid, the tower was not built exactly erect. After

being carried up about fifty feet, there was a tremendous crash. The

building had fallen, burying the men in the ruins. All the previous work

was now lost, the material wasted, and several valuable lives

sacrificed, all through the misplacement of one brick at the start. The

workman at fault little thought what mischief he was making for the

future. It is so with the boy, building character. He must be careful in

laying the foundation. Just so far as he governs, guards and trains

himself, just so far will he succeed or fail in the estimation of

others. Tennyson wisely wrote:

“_Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control,

These three alone lead life to sovereign power._”

AMERICAN BOYS.

Never in the history of any people did boys have so much in their favor

to assist them in reaching the pinnacle of success as American boys.

Back of them is an ancestry of the best blood of the leading nations of

the world, an ancestry noted for persistence, reverence, piety and

patriotism.

The educational institutions of the land have “turned out” thousands of

young men who have beaten their pathway upward in spite of adverse

circumstances, all of which seems to say to the boy to-day, “There’s

room at the top in whatever profession you may follow.” A good beginning

is the most necessary thing, for “it is half the battle.” In any race a

man can well afford to miss applause at the starting-line, if he gets it

at the goal. A slow but determined start is not incompatible with a

swift conclusion. Experienced mountain-climbers seem almost lazy, so

calmly do they put one foot in front of the other; but they stand

well-breathed on the summit, while their comrades are panting at the

halfway station. One must not swerve to the right or left, but, setting

his face toward duty, like Marcus Curtius who rode to death in the Roman

Forum, he must push forward, with an honest ambition to reach the goal

of success. It is not always the boy of aristocratic birth, wealthy

parentage or social standing that wins the world’s laurels, but usually

those boys who are unfortunately situated, who hew their way in the

world instead of having it laid out and smoothed for them.

One of our Presidents, when asked what was his coat-of-arms, remembering

that he had been a chopper of wood in his youth, replied, “A pair of

shirt-sleeves.” Lord Tenterden was proud to point out to his son the

shop in which his father had shaved for a penny. A French doctor once

taunted Flechier, bishop of Nimes, who had been a tallow-chandler in his

youth, with the meanness of his origin, to which Flechier replied, “If

you had been born in the same condition that I was, you would still have

been a maker of candles.”

Where is the boy with nobility of soul and purpose, who, though poor, is

not tidy; who, being of humble origin, is not industrious; who,

ridiculed by others, is not kind; and who, cramped by circumstances, is

not heroic? That boy will rise to honor and fill an important place in

life. He, like other boys of this country, may be a star rather than a

flashing meteor in the realm of society.

ASPIRING BOYS.

From a farm to the Presidential chair seems a long distance, but Abraham

Lincoln traveled it, and left behind him a name and reputation never to

die. Andrew Johnson began life as a tailor and subsequently rose to be

the chief officer of the nation. George Peabody was an apprentice in a

country store, and ended as a millionaire philanthropist. Cyrus W. Field

was in early life a clerk, but the world is indebted to him for the

successful completion of the Atlantic cable. Samuel F. B. Morse, from an

artist, became the inventor of the electric telegraph. Charles Dickens,

the great novelist, began life as a newspaper reporter. Levi P. Morton

was a clerk, John Wanamaker a messenger-boy, Lyman J. Gage a

night-watchman and James Whitcomb Riley a wandering sign-painter. The

record, instead of being in the tens, could be increased to thousands of

statesmen, governors, generals, business and professional men who have

risen from the farm, the shop, the store, to important offices within

the nation’s gift. There is no reason why a boy cannot make his way in

the world. He may not be President, or banker, or lawyer, but he can

fill an honorable position. He may be a master mechanic, a model

business man, a useful educator, if he is willing to begin at the lowest

round in the ladder, namely, neatness.

Boys are men of a smaller growth, and if they fail to cultivate

self-respect, it means the blighting of manhood, the ostracism of

society, and the closing of the gate of opportunities to success.

Self-respect is a robe with which every boy should clothe himself. It

lies at the root of all virtues. It begets a stability of character, is

the sentinel of the soul as the eyelid of the eye, and the corner-stone

of all virtues.

NEATNESS SHOWS ITSELF BY CLEANLINESS.

There is no need in this day and country for a boy to go around with

dirty face and hands. It is injurious to health, unbecoming and

repulsive to any self-respecting person. On the other hand from

“_The body’s purity, the mind

Receives a secret, sympathetic aid._”

When Isaac Hopper, the Quaker, met a boy with dirty face or hands, he

would stop him, and inquire if he ever studied chemistry. The boy, with

a wondering stare, would answer, “No.” “Well then, I will teach thee how

to perform a curious chemical experiment. Go home, take a piece of soap,

put it in water, and rub briskly on thy hands and face. Thou hast no

idea what a beautiful froth it will make, and how much whiter thy skin

will be. That’s a chemical experiment; I advise thee to try it.” There

is great virtue in soap and water vigorously applied, which doubtless

gave rise to the old adage, “Cleanliness is next to godliness,” for

virtue never dwells long with filth. An eminent man said, “I believe

there never was a person scrupulously attentive to cleanliness who was a

consummate villain.”

The singing birds are remarkable for the neatness and cleanliness of

their plumage. The gay and cheerful animals of the fields avoid filth,

and are usually of a clean appearance. The beauty and fragrance of the

flowers owe all to this characteristic, and so also does the boy who is

bright, intelligent, moral and ambitious. You will not find his finger

nails long, but carefully trimmed and devoid of dirt, his ears and neck

will be spotless, and his teeth clean and white like “drops of snow in

banks of pretty pink roses.”

NEATNESS IN DRESS.

Self-respect will also show itself in neatness of dress. “It has,” says

Barrington, “a moral effect upon the conduct of mankind. Let any

gentleman find himself with dirty boots, soiled neck-cloth, and a

general negligence of dress, he will, in all probability, find a

corresponding disposition by negligence of address.” To be tidy does not

mean to have costly attire. It is no mark of neatness for a boy to deck

his fingers with rings, to sport a gold-headed cane, to wear flashy

neck-wear, to have a bouquet of flowers on the lapel of his coat, for

while these are not unbecoming in themselves, they give the impression

of that sin which overthrew the angels, pride.

Dean Swift was an enemy of extravagance in dress, and particularly of

that destructive ostentation in the middle classes, which led them to

make an appearance above their condition in life. Of his mode of

reproving this folly in those persons for whom he had an esteem, the

following instance has been recorded:

When George Faulkner, the printer, returned from London, where he had

been soliciting subscriptions for his edition of the Dean’s works, he

went to pay his respects to him, dressed in a lace waistcoat, a big wig

and other fopperies. Swift received him with the same ceremonies as if

he had been a stranger. “And pray, sir,” said he, “what can be your

commands with me?” “I thought it was my duty, sir,” replied George, “to

wait on you immediately on my arrival from London.” “Pray, sir, who are

you?” “George Faulkner, the printer, sir.” “You, George the printer!

why, you are the most impudent barefaced scoundrel of an impostor I have

ever met! George Faulkner is a plain sober citizen, and would never

trick himself out in lace and other fopperies. Get you gone, you rascal,

I will immediately send you to the house of correction.” Away went

George as fast as he could, and having changed his dress he returned to

the deanery, where he was received with the greatest cordiality. “My

friend George,” said the Dean, “I am glad to see you returned safe from

London. Why, there has been an impudent fellow just with me dressed in

lace waistcoat, and he would fain pass himself off for you, but I soon

sent him away with a flea in his ear.”

Dress is certainly an index to the mind. It shows the spirit and

internal quality of the soul, and “there cannot be a more evident gross

manifestation of a poor, degenerate breeding, than a rude, unpolished,

disordered and slovenly outside.” The boy that does not polish his

shoes, comb his hair, brush his clothes, is in all probability morally

affected. To consider such things matters of small importance is a grave

mistake, for they often prove to be hinges on which the doors of

opportunity swing.

THE BOY’S RECOMMENDATION.

Said a friend to a business man on coming into the office, “I should

like to know on what ground you selected that boy, who had not a single

recommendation.” “You are mistaken,” said the gentleman, “he had a great

many. He wiped his feet when he came in and closed the door after him,

showing that he was careful; he gave his seat instantly to that lame old

man, showing that he was thoughtful; he took off his cap when he came

in, and answered my questions promptly, showing that he was gentlemanly;

he waited quietly for his turn, instead of pushing and crowding, showing

that he was honorable and orderly. When I talked to him I noticed that

his clothes were brushed, his hair in order, and when he wrote his name,

I noticed that his finger-nails were clean. Don’t you call those things

letters of recommendation? I do, and I would give more for what I can

tell about a boy by using my eyes ten minutes than all the letters he

can bring me.”

Be neat and clean in appearance, and not less so in habit. At home never

throw your hat in one chair and your coat in another. Have a place for

everything and put everything in its place. In school or at work let the

same principle govern you, for “what is worth doing is worth doing

well.” The boys now wanted are

“_Boys of neatness, boys of will,

Boys of muscle, brain and power,

For to cope with anything

These are wanted every hour._”

CHAPTER II

Be Polite

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER II

BY ADOLPH SUTRO.

Conduct is three-fourths of life.—_Matthew Arnold._

Character makes the man; character and politeness mark the perfect man.

The first is the diamond in the rough; the second the cut stone. The

former may attract the attention of a few, the latter discloses hidden

beauties and compels the admiration of all.

The “grand old name of gentleman” can only belong to him who unites the

qualities of gentleness and manliness, and politeness is essentially

gentleness.

The exercise of politeness benefits all, chiefly him who practises it,

and this is a sure road to success.

[Illustration: Matthew Arnold]

CHAPTER II

BE POLITE.

William of Wickham, Bishop of Winchester, and founder of Winchester and

of New College, Oxford, was so convinced of the value of manners that he

had the phrase “Manners Make a Man,” inscribed in several places upon

the walls of those structures. “Good manners,” said Emerson, “are made

up of petty sacrifices.” Pleasant expression and action, pleasing

exterior and true kindness are gentle delights which win the esteem of

others and often contribute to one’s advancement more than real merit.

Coarseness and gruffness, loose habits and “don’t-care” manners, never

fail to lock doors and close hearts. “You had better,” wrote

Chesterfield to his son, “return a dropped fan genteelly, than give a

thousand pounds awkwardly; better refuse a favor gracefully than grant

it clumsily. All your Greek can never advance you from secretary to

envoy, or from envoy to ambassador; but your address, your air, your

manners, if good, may.” These will give, as Emerson says, “The mastery

of palaces and fortunes wherever one goes without the trouble of earning

or owning them.”

Cultivation of politeness is like putting the finishing touch upon the

picture, it sets one off to the best advantage. Like a flower bed

encircling the lawn, it beautifies character. Like a lamp in a dark

room, it makes one’s presence cheerful. Nothing has greater influence,

and as Matthew Arnold said, “It is three-fourths of life.” As honey on

the skin is a protection from the sting of the bee, so politeness will

be a safeguard from the stings of the world. Doors will open at its

knock. Sunbeams will sparkle in its presence, and everywhere, with

everyone, it will act as a magic passport.

DEFINITION OF POLITENESS.

Politeness has been defined in various ways, but all meet at the same

point, like the spokes of a wheel which center in the hub. “It is the

art of showing, by external signs, the internal regard we have for

others.” “It is,” said Lord Chatham, “benevolence in little things,” as

the giving others the preference in every enjoyment at the table,

walking, sitting or standing. “It is a willingness to please and to be

pleased.” “It consists in treating others just as you love to be treated

yourself.” Henry IV, King of France, was once taken to task for

returning the salute of a poor man as he was passing through a village.

He replied, “Would you have your king exceeded in politeness by one of

his meanest subjects?” Because Nicholas I, Czar of Russia, saw an

officer of his household treat an old beggar woman discourteously, he

summoned him to his imperial presence. The official was quite pleased.

Nicholas soon undeceived him, and in the presence of a dozen courtiers

cut him to the quick with his indignant reproof. “Enough!” he said,

finally, “you will walk up and down that corridor all night, and every

time you turn you will say, in a loud voice, ‘I am a puppy! I am a

puppy!’”

“I treat him as well as he treats me,” said a boy to his mother. She had

just reproved him because he did not attempt to amuse or entertain a boy

friend who had gone home. “I often go in there and he doesn’t notice

me,” said the boy. “Do you enjoy that?” asked the mother. “O! I don’t

mind, I don’t stay long,” was the reply. “I should call myself a very

selfish person,” remarked the mother, “if friends came to see me and I

should pay no more attention to them.” “Well, that’s different, you’re

grown up,” answered the son. “Indeed!” replied the mother, “then you

really think that politeness and courtesy are not needed among boys?”

The boy thus pressed, said he didn’t mean exactly that. His father,

having overheard the conversation, turned to him and said: “A boy or a

man who measures his treatment of others by their treatment of him, has

no character of his own. He will never be kind or generous. If he is

ever to be a gentleman, he will be so in spite of the boorishness of

others. If he is to be noble, no other boy’s meanness will change his

nature. Remember this, my son, you lower yourself every time you are

guilty of an unworthy action because someone else is. Be true to your

best self, and no boy can drag you down, nor will he want to.”

Years ago, when Queen Victoria began her reign, the famous Lord John

Russell was the minister in attendance upon her majesty at her Scottish

home. There came late one evening a messenger—a little old man buried in

a greatcoat—to the Aboyne telegraph office, and delivered to the clerk a

message from Lord John Russell to one of the officials of the government

in London. The message did not bear a signature. On seeing this, the

ill-mannered clerk flung it back to the old man, and said, “Put your

name to it; it’s a pity your master doesn’t know how to send a

telegram.” The name was added and the message handed back. “Why, you

can’t write either,” cried the enraged clerk, after vainly trying to

make out the signature; “here, let me do it for you. What’s your name?”

“My name,” said the little old man, very deliberately, “is John

Russell.” Through his impoliteness that clerk lost his position.

POLITENESS A BADGE OF TRUE GENTILITY.

In some European countries the word gentleman stands for a titled or

wealthy man. When Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema was knighted a lady expressed

herself to his lordship thus: “O, dear Sir Lawrence, I am awfully glad

to hear of the honor you have received; I suppose now that you have been

knighted you’ll give up painting pictures and live like a gentleman.”

Many are they who have this idea of gentlemanship. But in our land the

real gentleman stands for such personal qualities as honesty,

truthfulness, gentleness and gracefulness which characterize a boy or

man. Such a gentleman subjects his appetite, refines his taste, subdues

his feelings and controls his speech. When accidentally running against

or passing before another, it will be, “I beg your pardon.” “Please

excuse me.” When receiving a gift or extending a favor, it will be, “I

thank you.”

Some boys are not careful in their expressions. “Sir,” said Doctor

Johnson, “A man has no more right to say a rude thing to another than to

knock him down.” A young man once accosted Zachariah Fox, a Quaker, a

rich merchant of Liverpool, with “Old chap, how do you make all your

money?” The Quaker replied, “By dealing in an article that thou may’st

deal in if thou wilt—civility.”

Monroe was so polite that he was called “A Gentleman of the Old School.”

Henry Clay was said to make the most engaging bow of any gentleman of

his day. Madison made it a point to touch his hat to everyone who bowed

to him, and the front part of it was always worn threadbare in

consequence of his lifting it. William Penn’s formal but kindly

politeness impressed even the Indians with whom he dealt, so that they

named him: “The Good-Big Chief.” James Russell Lowell was as courteous

to a beggar as to a lord, and was once observed holding a long

conversation in Italian with an organ-grinder whom he questioned about

scenes in Italy with which both were familiar. “You should not have

returned their salute,” said the master of ceremonies, when Clement XIV

bowed to the ambassadors who had bowed in congratulating him on his

election. “Oh, I beg your pardon,” replied Clement, “I have not been

pope long enough to forget good manners.”

A number of years ago a company of workmen was standing before a store

in Oxford street, London, looking at some pictures. The Honorable

William E. Gladstone, who was then at the height of his popularity,

halted a moment to look at the artist’s work. One of the workmen

recognized him and stepping up, said, “Excuse me, Mr. Gladstone, but I

should like to shake hands with you.” “Why, of course, I shall be glad

to do so,” the Premier of England responded, as he extended his hand not

only to the man who had accosted him but also to the little group of men

who stood near, taking no notice of soiled hands or garments. Then he

directed their attention to a fine engraving in the window, quietly

pointing out not only its beauty, but some special feature in its

execution that constituted its charm. Then raising his hat with a smile

he bade the men “Good morning,” and passed on his way up the street. No

wonder that in later years his fellow-countrymen called him “The Grand

Old Man,” “The People’s William.” He was a gentleman, exhibiting a

lovely spirit of true friendship and absolute equality.

POLITENESS SHOULD BE FIRST PRACTISED AT HOME.

What one is in the home is a fair criterion as to what he will be away

from home. The manner in which a person conducts himself in the home

determines largely his course and conduct in life. He who is polite and

kind to his parents, considering their wishes, and heeding their advice

and counsel, paves the way to future happiness and success. But he who

spurns paternal suggestions, speaks and acts disrespectfully, is seldom

respected and is always at a disadvantage. When Prince Bismarck was a

boy, he was rebuked by his father for speaking of the King as Fritz.

“Learn to speak reverently of his Majesty,” said the old squire of

Varzin, “and you will grow accustomed to think of him with veneration.”

Bismarck laid the advice to heart and from that day profited by it.

The truly polite boy is not only respectful to his parents but also to

his sisters and brothers, always returning a pleasant “Thank you” for

any kindness received at their hands, and showing as much courtesy to

all at home as to those in the home of a neighbor. “A beautiful form,”

says an American essayist, “is better than a beautiful face, and a

beautiful behavior is better than a beautiful form; it gives a higher

pleasure than statues or pictures; it is the finest of the fine arts,”

it gives grace to one’s bearing and enables one to look on the bright

and beautiful side of things.

POLITENESS SHOULD BE ACCORDED ALL.

Politeness is a universal debt that each boy owes to every person. The

matter of caste, sex, position and intelligence have nothing whatever to

do with it. It should be the rule of conduct wherever and in whatever

society one may be, to practise politeness.

Charles V was renowned for his courtesy. When he passed John Frederick,

Elector of Saxony, he took off his hat and bowed to him, though his

prisoner, who had been taken by him in battle. The poet Burns was one

day walking in the street of Edinburgh when an honest farmer saluted

him, which salute he returned, when some one rebuked him. Mr. Burns

replied that it was not the greatcoat, the scone bonnet or the saunders

boot-hose that he spoke to, but the man that was in them. Daniel Webster

was once walking with a friend in Washington when a colored man passing

by bowed very low to him. Mr. Webster promptly returned as deep an

obeisance. “Do you bow in that way to a darky?” asked his friend. “Would

you have me outdone in politeness by a negro?” replied the great

statesman.

WHAT POLITENESS DID.

Mr. Winans, of Philadelphia, became independently rich through his

courteous manner. One day two strangers called on him. One was a

foreigner who had visited some larger establishments in the city, but on

their coming to Mr. Winans’, a third or fourth rate factory, he took so

much pains to show all its parts and workings, and was so patient in his

explanations and answers to their inquiries, that within a year he was

surprised by an invitation to transfer his labors to St. Petersburg and

manufacture locomotives for the Czar of Russia, He went, accumulated a

large fortune, and ultimately received from his Russian workshops a

hundred thousand dollars a year. Investing his money in real estate he

laid the foundation of one of the largest private fortunes in

Philadelphia; and all this was the result of civility.

It pays to cultivate politeness. To this day the Japanese people revere

the memory of General Grant. While visiting the emperor, he was invited

to cross the imperial foot bridge near the palace at Tokyo, across which

none but the blood royal had ever trod. General Grant accepted the

invitation and walked beside the Mikado until they reached the center of

the bridge. Then he stopped, profoundly saluted the emperor, and said:

“Your majesty, I have come so far to show you that I was not insensible

to the honor you would do me, but I cannot violate your traditions. Let

us return the way we came.”

Politeness serves one well. It is keener than sharpened steel. It is

more magnetic than loadstone and worth more than jewels. At home or

abroad, among young and aged, employers or teachers, inferiors or

superiors, this glorious characteristic is a diadem from which sparkles

a jewel, which is, as Chesterfield said: “The treatment of others just

as you love to be treated yourself.” In the words of One greater than

he, it is, “Do unto others as ye would they should do unto you.” All

other things being equal, the boy who adheres to these mottoes is the

one who succeeds. It makes him an acceptable companion, wins friendship

and creates popularity. “Give a poor boy fine manners and

accomplishments,” said Voltaire, “and he will become the master of

fortunes and palaces, while princes stand upon their threshold to

solicit his friendship.” Charles II. is described by Macaulay as being

“the grandest rascal and most popular man in England.” Hume in giving

the reason of this says, “He was the best bred man alive.”

“_What thou wilt,

Thou must rather enforce it with thy smile,

Than hew to it with thy sword._”

CHAPTER III

Be Truthful

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER III

BY JOSHUA LEVERING

Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide,

In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side.

—_Lowell._

It is related of Cyrus, that when asked what was the first thing he

learned, he replied, “To tell the truth.” Truthfulness is the foundation

stone of character. Without it, a life, as it is developed, becomes more

and more marred and falls short of its highest opportunity and calling.

All qualifications that go to make up noble manhood count for naught,

where there is not a persistent adherence to truthfulness. Therefore be

true to yourself and the nobler impulses and yearnings of your heart by

always speaking the truth, acting the truth, and living the truth.

[Illustration: Yours sincerely Joshua Levering]

CHAPTER III

BE TRUTHFUL

While a vessel was crossing the English Channel, a gentleman stood near

the helmsman. It was a calm pleasant evening, and no one expected a

storm. The flapping of a sail as if the wind had suddenly shifted,

caught the ear of the officer on watch, and springing to the wheel, he

examined the compass. “You are half a point off the course,” he sharply

said to the man at the wheel. The deviation was corrected, and the

officer returned to his post. “It must be necessary to steer very

accurately,” said the observer, “if half a point is of so much

importance.” “Ah!” remarked the officer, “a half a point, sir, is liable

to bring us directly on the rocks.” What a lesson for every boy. The

half a point deviation from strict truthfulness strands one on the rocks

of falsehood.

WHAT IS A LIE?

The shortest definition of a lie is, “The intention to deceive.” It may

not be telling an out-and-out falsehood to conceal a crime, or to shield

one’s self, but telling it to mislead or deceive others. “The essence of

the thing,” said Dewey, “lies in the intention,” and if the intention is

to mislead, such, as Immanuel Kant says, “is forfeiture of personal

worth, a destruction of personal integrity.” As he contends, “a lie is

the abandonment, or, as it were, the annihilation of the dignity of

man.” It will undermine the noble instincts of any boy and cause his

character to collapse.

TELL THE TRUTH.

A story of Abraham Lincoln shows his love for truth. It was a bright

autumn evening, when Abraham, a great awkward boy of sixteen or

seventeen said to his mother, “I’m going to the woods to-morrow. I’ve

got a good job at Laird’s and as I shall be obliged to start by

day-break, I thought there might be some chores you wished to have

done.” “You are a good boy, Abram, always thinking of helping me,” said

his step-mother. “If I was your own mother you could not be more kind,

and God will reward you sometime. To-morrow, I am going to wash, and I

would be very thankful if you would bring me a few buckets of water from

the spring.” Back and forth the tall boy hurried, until all the tubs and

kettles about the cabin were filled. Early next morning, when Abraham

was ready to start for the place where the rails were to be split, his

little sister Sally said, “Can’t I go, Abram?” “Just as mother says,”

replied he, pausing to give the little girl an opportunity to consult

her mother. The mother would not consent. No sooner had Abram started

than she determined to follow him, and at once cut across the field

intending to reach the ravine before him and give him a genuine surprise

by jumping out unannounced in the path as he came up. She carried out

her plan successfully, and when she heard his merry whistle in the

distance she climbed upon the bank to be ready to make the spring for

his shoulders when the proper moment arrived. But the poor child had

forgotten all about the sharp axe which he carried, and although she

gained her coveted seat on his broad shoulders, her little bare foot

received a gash from the cruel axe, which changed her merry laugh into a

bitter cry. “Why, Sally! How did you get here?” was all the boy could

say as he placed her tenderly on the bank and began an examination of

the wounded foot. Finding it to be a deep cut, he gathered some broad

plantain leaves which grew near, and by their aid soon succeeded in

staunching the flow of blood. This accomplished, he tore the sleeve from

his shirt, and in his clumsy way bandaged the injured foot. Carrying her

home, he learnt the story of her disobedience. She would have been

willing to evade the truth in order to screen herself from her mother’s

displeasure, but honest, truthful Abraham would not permit this. “Tell

the truth, Sally, no matter what the consequences may be,” he insisted;

“better suffer punishment than lie about it. I don’t think mother will

be hard on you when she sees how sorely punished you are; but never tell

a lie to shield yourself, never.” Such was the course taken through life

by that boy who later became the honored President of these United

States.

WHITE AND BLACK LIES.

Much is said nowadays about _degrees_ in lying. That _is_ lying in a

small way. There is the so-called white lie of custom when a certain

article is slightly misrepresented to make a bargain; the white lie of

courtesy when one makes politeness the garb behind which he deceives;

the white lie of necessity, when one would evade the truth by nodding

the head, or giving a wrong impression. Some men, and even great men,

have maintained that this is sometimes a necessity, but would it not be

a fine moral precept to say, “You must speak the truth generally, but

you may utter a falsehood when it suits your convenience?” Who ever

licensed one thus? Justin Martyr said, “Is life at stake? We would not

live by telling a lie.” When Atillius Regulus was a prisoner of the

Carthaginians he was sent by that great people to Rome with several

ambassadors to arrange for peace, on the understanding that if

peace-terms were not agreed upon he was to return to prison. He took the

oath and swore to return. Arriving at Rome he urged his countrymen to

continue in war and not agree to the exchange of prisoners. This meant

to him the return to Carthage. The senators and priests held that as his

oath had been forced from him he ought not to return. Then came the

answer from Regulus which has made him imperishable: “_Have you resolved

to dishonor me? I am not ignorant that death and tortures are preparing

for me. But what are those to the shame of infamous action, or the

wounds of a guilty mind? Slave as I am to Carthage, I have still the

spirit of a Roman. I have sworn to return. It is my duty to return. Let

the gods take care of the rest._”

“One should never lie,” said Crispi, the great Italian statesman. “I

will not stain speech with a lie,” said Pindar. “The genuine lie is

hated by all gods and men,” said Plato. “That man has no fair glory,”

said Theognis, “in whose heart dwells a lie, and from whose mouth it has

once issued.” A lie is never justifiable, and to lie a little, is, as

Victor Hugo remarked, “not possible.” The person who lies tells the

whole lie, lying in the face of the fiend, and “Satan has two names,

Satan and lying.” Therefore

“_Let falsehood be a stranger to thy lips;

Shame on the policy that first began

To tamper with the heart to hide its thoughts!

And doubly shame on that inglorious tongue

That sold its honesty and told a lie._”

WHAT LYING DOES.

Nothing so corrupts early simplicity, quickly destroys the nobler

instincts, and depraves the heart as falsehood. If a boy will lie about

one thing, can he be trusted in anything? If he is branded as a liar,

what teacher will respect him, what business man will engage him, and

what court will accept his testimony? “I have seldom known anyone,” said

Paley, “who deserted truth in trifles, who could be trusted in matters

of importance.” Oliver Wendell Holmes said: “Sin has many tools, but a

lie is the handle which fits them all.” It destroys confidence,

establishes false relations among men, blights the bloom of life, and

saps the vital springs of existence. It is the progenitor of all wrongs,

oppressions, cruelties and crimes, and what boy is there who dare do it

when God prohibits it?

WHAT LYING BRINGS.

Like begets like, thus lies beget lies. Said Owen, “One lie must be

thatched over with another, or it will soon rain through.” Lying brings

misery. It troubles the conscience, destroys the peace of mind and makes

one suspicious of others. Because of this, Eugene Field, when a young

man, walked thirty miles to confess to his employer and to ask

forgiveness for an untruth he had told him. Lying brings punishment, for

“lying lips are an abomination unto the Lord.” Because of this Elisha’s

servant was struck with leprosy, Ananias and Sapphira with death, and

many others have had the seal of God’s wrath placed upon them.

One day, as Archbishop Leighton was going from Glasgow to Dumblane, a

storm of lightning and thunder burst upon him. He was observed, when at

a considerable distance, by two men of bad character. They had not the

courage to rob him; but, wishing to extort money from him, one said, “I

will lie down by the wayside as if I were dead, and you shall inform the

archbishop that I was killed by the lightning and beg money of him to

bury me.” When the Archbishop arrived, the wicked wretch told the

fabricated story. The Archbishop sympathized with the pretended

survivor, gave him money, and proceeded on his journey. But when the man

returned to his companion, he found him really lifeless. Immediately he

began to cry aloud: “Oh, Sir! he’s dead! Oh, Sir, he’s dead!” On this

the Archbishop discovered the fraud and turning to the living man said,

“It is a dangerous thing to trifle with the judgment of God.” How much

better and safer to speak the truth, for

“_There is nothing so kingly as kindness,

And nothing so royal as truth._”

Truthfulness is the foundation of character. It is the basis of true

manhood. Its spirit pervades the closest relation and highest

intercourse, its law holds the planets in their course, and it is the

presiding principle of every true and noble life. A greater tribute

could not be paid to anyone than “his word is as good as his bond.” No

more worthy epitaph or eloquent remark could be uttered of Colonel

Huchurin, than when a friend, attesting the simplicity and nobility of

him, said: “He never professed the thing he intended not.” No eulogy can

surpass Xenocrates of Petrarch, who, standing before an ecclesiastical

tribunal where an oath had been required of others, said, “As for you,

Petrarch, your word is sufficient.”

An important conference was being held in the Executive Mansion in

Washington. A caller had sent in his card, but either the caller was

unwelcome or the time was quite unsuitable for his admission. One of the

persons turned to a servant and said, “Tell the person who sent up the

card that the President is not in.” “No,” said General Grant, “tell him

no such thing.” Then, turning to his friends, he remarked: “I don’t lie

myself, and I don’t want any of my servants to lie for me.”

A “Mental Photograph” book was once presented to Charles Kingsley in

which to write. One question was “What is your _bête noire_?” “A lie,”

he penned. In dedicating her delightful biography of him his wife wrote:

“To the beloved memory

of

A righteous man

Who loved God and _truth above all things_.

A man of untarnished honor—

Loyal and chivalrous—gentle and strong—

Modest and humble—tender and true—

Pitiful to the weak—yearning after the erring—

Stern to all forms of wrong and oppression,

Yet most stern toward himself—

Who being angry yet sinned not.”

TRUTHFULNESS IS THE MOST HONORABLE AND SAFE COURSE.

Truthfulness underlies all honest and faithful work, all social

confidence, all right fulfillment of relations and self-respect. It

regulates lives and improves and elevates those it characterizes. It is

one great secret of success in business, a magnet that draws confidence

and wields a power second to none in the universe. A poor Persian boy

was about to leave his mother’s home, to engage in business in the city.

Within the lining of his coat she sewed forty golden dinars which she

had saved during years of labor. Before the boy started she cautioned

him to beware of robbers as he went across the desert, and as he left

the home, she said: “Fear God, and never tell a lie.” The boy started,

and toward evening saw in the distance the glittering minarets of the

great city, but between the city and himself he saw a cloud of dust. It

came nearer. Presently he saw that it was caused by a band of robbers.

One of them approached him, and unceremoniously inquired what valuables

he had. The boy answered with candor: “Forty golden dinars are sewed up

in my garments.” Discrediting the boy’s story he wheeled his horse

around and rode back to his companions. Soon another robber came and

said: “Boy, what have you got?” “Forty dinars sewed in my garments,” he

answered. The robber laughed and rode away. At last the chief came and

asked him what he had. The boy replied, “I have already told two of your

men that I have forty dinars sewed up in my clothes.” The chief ordered

his clothes torn open, and the money was found. He was then asked what

induced him to make such a revelation. “Because,” said the boy, “I would

not be false to my mother, whom I solemnly promised never to tell a

lie.” The robber leaned upon his spear and after reflecting said, “Wait

a moment.” He mounted his horse and rode back to his comrades, but soon

returned dressed as a merchant. “Boy,” said he, “art thou so mindful of

thy mother, while I am insensible at my age of that duty I owe God? Give

me thy hand, that I may swear repentance on it.” He did so, and his

followers were struck with the scene. Said he, “I am a merchant. I have

a large business house in the city. I want you to come and live with me

to teach me about your God, and you will be rich, and your mother some

day shall come and live with us.” Then one of the robbers turned to the

chief and said, “You have been our leader in guilt, be the same in the

path of virtue.” And taking the boy’s hand, they all promised to lead

new lives.

Boys, speak only that which is true. You may do much good by it,

although you may never lead a band of robbers to God and honesty. But—

“_Nothing good shall ever perish,

Only the corrupt shall die;

Truth, which men and angels cherish,

Flourishes eternally._”

TRUTHFULNESS IS THE WINNING SIDE.

Good old Matthew Henry used to say, “Truth is mighty and will prevail.”

“Falsehood,” as one of the kings of Prussia said, “sometimes does good

for twenty-four hours, but like a battle well fought, right comes off

more than conqueror.” Falsehood is always defeated. It shrinks at

detection and in due time is compelled to confess. Truth is sure and has

a firm foundation because it is an attribute of God. And “God and

truth,” said Theodore Parker, “are always on the same side.” Therefore

“_Seize upon truth, where’er ’tis found,

Amongst your friends, amongst your foes,

On Christian or on heathen ground;

The flower’s divine where’er it grows._”

CHAPTER IV

Be Choice of Language

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER IV

BY GENERAL O. O. HOWARD

“Maintain your rank, vulgarity despise,

To swear is neither brave, polite nor wise;

You would not swear upon a bed of death;

Reflect—your Maker now may stop your breath.”

_Anonymous._

One moonlight night I was passing near a sentinel’s post. It was during

the winter of 1861–2, in front of Alexandria, Virginia, at Camp

California. The sentinel, in some trouble, used rough, coarse language,

closing with an oath. Approaching him, till I could see his face, think

of my astonishment to find him, instead of a burly man of low life, a

handsome boy of seventeen. I said to him pleasantly: “How could your

mother have taught you to swear?” Dropping his head with a sudden shame,

he answered, “She didn’t, General. I learned it here.” And indeed, it

came from the influence of his associates.

One’s language always gauges him.

[Illustration: Oliver O. Howard]

CHAPTER IV

BE CHOICE OF LANGUAGE

Few things are more important and far-reaching than the use of words. If

good, they

—“_have power to ’suage

The tumults of a troubled mind

And are as balm to fester’d wounds._”

If bad, they corrupt and may flourish, as Carlyle said: “Like a hemlock

forest after a thousand years.”

“_Immodest words admit of no defence,

For want of decency is want of sense._”

One of the most historic structures in the world was the Campanile, or

the bell-tower of St. Mark’s Cathedral in Venice. Not long since it

fell. One aged Lugui Vendrasco knew its danger. For ten years he had not

ceased to beg the government to allow him to put the Campanile in better

order. But his warnings were unheeded. One Sunday morning he took his

son to see it. As the young man looked upon the crack he said, “That’s

nothing. A small crack like that can really do no harm to such a

building.” Replying, the father said, “Son, it is not the crack. It is

that of which the crack is the effect and symbol. Our Campanile is

doomed.” The next morning it fell with an awful crash. In like manner

many a man has come tumbling down. His character was not safe because of

some flaw in it. Improper words prove its great defect as the crack did

the weakness of the Campanile.

Stephen Price, once Mayor of New York, and a warm friend to boys, lost

his life in a steamboat disaster. When his body was recovered, a scrap

of paper was found in his pocket-book. It was so worn with oft reading

that the words were scarcely legible, but two paragraphs were finally

made out, one of which was: “Good company and good conversation are the

very sinews of virtue.” In fact, these are inseparable. Conversation is

a reflex of character, and no boy can associate with another who

delights in slangy, smutty talk without being more or less contaminated.

IMPROPER WORDS.

A very common and bad habit of some boys is the attachment of improper

words to a sentence, as if it made it more binding. These in no sense

give grace or beauty to language. They do not round out a period or

enrich a metaphor. They define nothing, bound nothing, measure nothing,

mean nothing, accomplish nothing, and he who uses them should be

shunned. Vulgar expressions are never in order. “They help,” as South

says, “no one’s education or manners. They are disgusting to the

refined, abominable to the good, insulting to those with whom one

associates, degrading to the mind, unprofitable, needless and injurious

to society,” and beneath the dignity of any self-respecting person. “Are

there any ladies around?” said a young officer to a group of others,

“I’ve a splendid story to tell.” “There are no ladies present,” said

General Ulysses S. Grant, who overheard the remark, “but there are

gentlemen here, sir, and what is not fit for a lady to hear, is unfit

for a gentleman.”

When Coleridge Patterson, the martyred bishop of Melanesia, was a boy at

Eton, he was enthusiastically fond of cricket, at which he was an

unusually good player. At the cricket suppers at Eton, it was the custom

to give toasts followed by songs, and these songs were often of a very

questionable sort. Before one of these suppers, “Coley” told the captain

that he would protest against the introduction of anything that was

vulgar or indecent. His protest apparently had no effect, for during the

evening, one of the boys arose and began to sing a song which “Coley”

thought was not fit for decent boys to hear. Whereupon, rising from his

seat, he said, “If this sort of thing continues, I shall leave the

room.” It was continued and he left. The next day he wrote to the

captain of the eleven, saying unless he received an apology, he should

withdraw from the club. The apology was sent and Patterson remained. By

that stand he showed his character, which won the admiration of the rest

and brought about a new state of affairs. No boy need answer another who

addresses him in unbecoming language. He might say as Stephen A.

Douglas, when denounced in the Senate in improper language, “What no

gentleman should say, no gentleman need answer.” And as to keeping the

company of anyone who is inclined to be vulgar, there is no law to

compel it. Far better be a Coleridge Patterson in shunning such company.

AVOID PROFANITY.

The true gentlemanly boy has a sense of honor, scrupulously avoiding

profane words as he would profane actions. No habit is more unbecoming,

useless and contagious than swearing. It is the fool’s impulse and the

coward’s fortification. It neither helps one’s manners nor education,

and no boy with the least personal pride will be guilty of indulging in

it. Louis IX of France punished everyone who was convicted of swearing

by searing his lips with a hot iron.

George Washington made the following law August 3, 1776, which he caused

to be read to the men under his command: “The general is sorry to be

informed that the foolish and wicked practice of profane cursing and

swearing, a vice heretofore little known in an American army, is growing

into fashion; he hopes the officers will, by example as well as

influence, endeavor to check it, and that both they and the men will

reflect that we can have but little hope of the blessing of Heaven on

our armies if we insult Him by our impiety and folly; added to this, it

is a vice so mean and low, without any temptation, that every man of

sense and character detests and despises it.”

Years ago the Hon. John Finch visited an asylum in the East and asked to

see a certain professional gentleman committed there. He had been a good

and true man, but by overwork, physical and mental, had wrecked himself

and become a raving maniac. The superintendent of the asylum said, “You

will not want to see him again, he swears so.” As they entered the room

in which the man was locked in a “straight jacket,” the most vulgar

oaths came from his lips. Touching the superintendent Mr. Finch said,

“What can this mean? When I knew that man he was one of the grandest

Christians, true, noble and good in every respect; and now to hear such

vile language coming from him surprises me.” The superintendent said,

“He learned to swear when a boy. The impressions made on his brain at

that period of life when the brain most readily receives impressions now

become the governing ones. In this asylum we can almost uniformly tell

what have been the habits, customs and abuses of insane people when they

were children. The brain at such times receives impressions readily, the

impressions are permanent, and if they have indulged in vile practices,

or used bad language, the dethronement of reason and intelligent

conscience will give to early impressions and habits the control of the

mind.” This being true, how careful every boy should be, for who wants

the bad habits of youth noticeable in age?

AVOID BLASPHEMY.

There are many ways in which language may be improperly used, but none

more unbecoming and attended with more serious consequences than

blasphemy, or using the name of God or Christ with disrespect. It is a

presumptuous sin against which God has declared: “Thou shalt not take

the name of the Lord thy God in vain,” declaring with emphasis, “for the

Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh His name in vain.”

Sometimes, as Jacob Knapp said in his autobiography, “God steps aside

from His ordinary course and smites presumptuous sinners dead, that they

may stand as beacon lights to warn others to shun the rocks on which

they struck.” During the Black Hawk war, in Illinois, at the time when

God sent the cholera among the people, an officer cursed God for sending

the disease into their midst. With an awful oath he opened his mouth,

and God smote him down even as the word trembled on his lips. Such cases

are rare, yet the words, “will not hold him guiltless,” show that He

forgets not and that sometime He will hold the blasphemer accountable.

Howard, the philanthropist, on hearing anyone use blasphemous

expressions, always buttoned up his coat. Being asked the reason, he

replied, “I always do this when I hear men swear, as I think that anyone

who can take God’s name in vain can also steal.” Nothing so chills one’s

blood as—

—“_to hear the blest Supreme

Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme;

Therefore maintain your rank, vulgarity despise,

To blaspheme is neither brave, polite nor wise.

You would not do so upon the bed of death;

Reflect! Your Maker now could stop your breath._”

“AMEN!”

Many years ago when the Duke of Gordon was spending the day in a Scotch

village a company of soldiers was drawn up under the window of the room

in which the duke and a party of friends were enjoying themselves. The

officer in command was inspecting his men’s arms and clothes, and if

anything displeased him he berated the soldier with blasphemous oaths.

The duke, who abhorred such language, expressed a wish that the

inspection might soon be over. “If your Grace desires it,” said one of

the company, “I will clear the coast of this man of oaths without noise

or bloodshed.” “Do so, and I’ll be obliged to you,” said the duke. The

gentleman stepped into the street, took his station behind the officer

and pulled off his hat. As the officer swore, the gentleman, with the

grave solemnity of a parish clerk, said in a loud voice “Amen.” “What do

you mean?” asked the officer, hastily turning around. “I am joining with

you in prayer,” answered the gentleman with a grave face. “I thank you,

sir,” rejoined the officer, “but I have no further need for a clerk.

Soldiers! to the right-about, march!” And he and his soldiers departed,

much to the amusement and happiness of the duke, after teaching an

important lesson to the officer that it is wrong to call upon God to do

this or that, or to belittle others by vile epithets which never fail to

bring in due time just retribution.

My boy, the only language to use is the pure and refined. By-words,

slang phrases, profanity and blasphemy are only uttered by lips whose

heart is bad, for “out of the abundance of the heart the mouth

speaketh.” Let your tongue utter sound sentences, choice words and

pleasant expressions, then will they be musical to the ears of the good,

sweet to the soul of the pious, educational to those who associate with

you, and beneficial to all. From this day put into practice the last

words of the eloquent John B. Gough. He was lecturing in the

Presbyterian Church, Frankford, Pa., on the night of February 19, 1886.

In the course of that lecture he said: “I have seven years in the record

of my own life when I was held in the iron grasp of intemperance. I

would give the world to blot it out, but alas! I cannot.” Then, stepping

forward, with an impressive gesture, he added, “Young man, keep your

record—” but he was unable to finish the sentence, for he sank

insensible into a chair from which he was never able to rise. Evidently

he meant to say, “Young man, keep your record clean.”

Do not forget that improper words have a reflex influence. A fable is

told how a bee took an offering of honey to Jupiter, which so pleased

him that he promised to grant the bee whatever it should ask. The bee

said, “O glorious Jove, give thy servant a sting, that when anyone

approaches my hive to take the honey, I may kill him on the spot.”

Jupiter answered, “Your prayer shall not be granted in the way you wish,

but the sting you ask for, you shall have; and when anyone comes to take

away your honey, and you sting him, the wound shall be fatal, not to

him, but to you, for your life shall go with the sting.” So is it to

this day. He that curseth others, curseth himself. Therefore my boy,

control your tongue, and keep the door of your lips, remembering:

“_’Tis reason’s part

To govern and to guard the heart,

To lull the wayward soul to rest,

When hopes and fears distract the breast;

Reason may calm this doubtful strife,

And steer thy bark through various life._”

CHAPTER V

Be Ambitious

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER V

BY BOOKER T. WASHINGTON

Our natures are like oil; compound us with anything,

Yet will we strive to swim to the top.

—_Beaumont._

Writing of the gentleman who introduces this chapter—the Washington of

his people in industry, education and religion, Paul Dunbar, the negro

poet, says:

“A poor Virginia cabin gave the seed;

And from its dark and lowly door there came

A peer of princes in the world’s acclaim,

A master spirit for the nation’s need.

Strong, silent, purposeful beyond his kind,

The ark of rugged force on brow and lip,

Straight on he goes, nor turns to look behind,

With one idea foremost in his mind

Like the keen prow of some on-forging ship.”

I would say to every young man, no matter what his color, to choose as

early as possible a good, clean-cut business, something that will help

make the world better, and then strive in every worthy way to make that

business the most successful of its kind in the world. The boy who lets

obstacles overcome him will not succeed. The great thing is to succeed

in spite of discouragements.

[Illustration: Booker T. Washington.]

CHAPTER V

BE AMBITIOUS

Many a pen has been used against this inward passion, declaring it a

“secret poison, a gallant madness and the mother of hypocrisy.” The

great Wolsey cried, “I charge thee, fling away ambition.” Bowes said,

“The most aspiring are frequently the most contemptible,” but there are

exceptions to the rule. Where there is no aspiration, there is no

endeavor. It is not wrong to strain mental and physical energies to

succeed, provided it is to be good and to do good. The ambition of

Napoleon to lay waste the town of Acre was wrong, that of Wellington to

intercept the “scourge of Europe,” right. “To be ambitious of true

honor, of the true glory and perfections of our natures, is,” as Sir

Philip Sidney said, “the very principle and incentive of virtue.”

One of the customs of the Norsemen was that of wearing a pickaxe crest

with the motto, “Either I will find a way or make one.” An adage of the

day reads, “Where there’s a will there’s a way.” What one wills to do

can usually be done. George Stephenson determined to make an engine to

run between Liverpool and Manchester at the rate of twelve miles an

hour. The _Quarterly Review_ ridiculed the idea, saying, “As well trust

one’s self to be fired off on a Congreve rocket.” He did it,

nevertheless. Prince Bismarck’s greatest ambition was to snatch Germany

from Austrian oppression and to gather round Prussia, in a North German

confederation, all the States whose tone of thought, religion and

interest, were in harmony with those of Prussia. “To attain this end,”

he once said, “I would brave all dangers—exile, even the scaffold. What

matters if they hang me, provided the rope with which I am hung binds

this new Germany firmly to the Prussian throne?” And, he did it.

ASPIRE HIGH.

There is nothing wrong in aspiring high. George Washington proposed to

carve his name higher than any other on the Natural Bridge in Virginia,

and did it. Alfred Harmsworth, “king of the penny press,” said on

entering journalism, “I will master the business of editing and

publishing.” At twenty-one he had a little capital, at thirty he was a

millionaire, and later became head of the largest publishing house in

the world.

Emerson once said, “Hitch your wagon to a star.” It is but a natural

condition of a healthful life when energies seek an outlet in some lofty

activity. Better endeavor if but to fail, than never try at all. “I

know,” says Morris, “how far high failure overleaps the bounds of low

successes.” The sense of such makes us capable of a grave and holy sense

of the real soberness and meaning of life. George Eliot in writing the

last words of her most powerful book, exclaims, “It is so much less than

what I hoped for.” A great artist was once highly praised for a

beautiful painting which he had just completed. “Ah, do not praise me!”

he sadly said, “it may be very beautiful, but I aimed at perfection.”

When Napoleon started on his campaign he was ridiculed and nicknamed

“The Little Corporal,” which cut him to the quick, but it proved to be a

goad which stirred him to become a great general. In one of our courts a

poor carpenter was once planing a magistrate’s bench, when an onlooker

inquired, “Why are you so careful with such a rough piece of furniture?”

“Because I wish to make it for the time when I shall sit as judge upon

it,” was the reply. And that time came.

INSTANCES OF SUCCESSFUL AMBITION.

In 1805 there was born in London a boy of a hated and branded people.

When sixteen years of age he became a clerk in a solicitor’s office,

and, to the amusement of his companions, he was wont to say: “I intend

to be prime minister of England.” He had no liberal education, yet he

won honors of literary skill and scholarship. He was ambitious, and

eventually won his way to Parliament. When he attempted to deliver his

first speech, his highflown style and extravagant gestures provoked

laughter and hisses, so that he took his seat with great mortification.

In doing so, he uttered a remarkable prophecy, “I shall sit down now,

but the time will come when you will hear me.” True to the utterance,

that time came to Benjamin Disraeli, when, in Shakespeare’s words he

could have said, “People and senators! be not affrighted; fly not; stand

still; ambition’s debt is paid.”

Years ago a poor German boy named Schliemann read of the siege of Troy,

and made up his mind to find the ruins of that ancient city. He procured

books and taught himself six or seven languages. He persevered and

prospered until as a merchant he made a fortune. Every step of his study

and money-making was taken with the aim of fulfilling the vow of his

boyhood. In due time he started eastward with a company of laborers, and

for long years pursued his search. At last success crowned his efforts.

Troy was discovered and the gold, silver and bronze articles of the

Trojan king were dug out of his palace, and placed on exhibition at

South Kensington, England.

One day while wandering about Cincinnati a young artist saw a sign which

read, “Peter Skinner, Chairmaker.” “Why can’t I make chairs?” he asked

himself. He straightway entered the establishment, resolved to ask for a

position. In order to get to the office, he had to pass through the

paint room, and the sight of several busy workers prompted him to

inwardly exclaim, “Anyway I can paint chairs.” The firm wanted a hand,

and he was engaged to come the next morning to work in the paint shop.

As he wended his way back he tarried a moment to see how the painters

did their work. That evening when he reached his room in the

boarding-house, he borrowed a brush and an old chair, and began

practising. Next morning he was on hand at the chair factory and there

continued to work for two months at nine dollars per week. No one ever

discovered that he was not an experienced chair-painter. During his

leisure time at the boarding-house he made pencil drawings and dropped

them carelessly on the floor so that they would attract attention. The

landlord, a colonel in the militia, possessed a strong, characteristic

face and the artist drew him in uniform, and dropped this picture on the

floor of his room. His chief ambition was to return to portrait

painting. He thought the drawing would please the colonel, and it did;

so much so, that it led to his receiving a commission to paint the

portraits of the colonel and his family, consisting of five members, at

five dollars each. With this work to occupy him he left the chair

factory, and soon the reputation of James H. Beard, the celebrated

portrait and animal painter, was made.

History records thousands of those who have pressed their way upward

until they were crowned with success in spite of the distressing,

discouraging, circumstantial law of gravitation, in which poverty and

uncouth ancestry have played an important part. What these have done,

any other boy can do, providing he argues not

“_Against heaven’s hand or will, not ’bate a jot

Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer

Right onward._”

THE SPIRIT OF DISCONTENT.

There is, however, a spirit of discontent manifested by many who envy

those a few rounds higher on life’s social or business ladder, and who

are determined to surpass them at whatever cost. Such ambition is justly

foredoomed to disappointment, like Alexander’s, who wept because there

were no more worlds for him to conquer; and like Pisistratus, to whom

the Athenian law-giver said, “Were it not for your ambition, you would

be the best citizen of Athens.”

Ambition that rises from discontent or selfishness is false. It lacks

conscience to engineer it. A boy is only fit to go higher as he

demonstrates faithfulness where he is. A boy that simply wants to climb

without endeavoring to do well in the position he holds is, as Beecher

said, “Neither fit to be where he is, nor yet above it; he is already

too high, and should be put lower.” “Out of the frying-pan into the

fire,” though not his motto, will doubtless be his result.

MASTER OF HIS CRAFT.

Not long ago, at Ellis Island, a large number of immigrants were

awaiting examination. Among them was a tall Polish lad with a little

black bag under his arm. When his turn came to answer the inevitable

question, “How much money have you?” he smiled, and frankly answered

“None.” “But don’t you know you can’t come in here if you have no money,

and no friend to speak for you? Where are you going?” asked the

inspector. “To Fall River first. I have a friend there. Then I shall see

the whole country. You will hear of me,” he answered. The inspector

proceeded rather sharply, “How will you get to Fall River? Where will

you eat and sleep to-night?” “I shall be all right,” replied the lad

confidently. “With this,” tapping the black bag, “I can go anywhere.”

“What is it?” The Pole laughed, and opening the bag, took out a cornet.

It was a fine instrument, and gave evidence of loving care. “Can you

play it well?” asked the officer, kindly. In answer the young man

stepped out into an open space, and lifting the horn to his lips, began

the beautiful intermezzo from “Cavalleria Rusticana.” At the very first

note every one in the great building stood still and listened. The long

lines of immigrants became motionless. The forlorn waiters in the pit

looked up, and their faces became tender. Even the meanest among them

seemed to feel the charm of the pleading notes. When the music ceased,

there was a burst of applause. Shouts of “Bravo,” “Good boy,” “Give us

some more,” came from every side. The physicians, who a few moments

before had made their hurried and not over-gentle examination, joined in

the applause. The officer who had questioned him so sharply slapped him

on the back. The commissioner himself had come up from his office at the

sound of the horn, and asked for particulars. When he had heard them, he

turned to the agent of the Fall River boats, and said, “Give this lad a

passage, including meals, and charge it to me.” “I will charge it to

myself,” said the agent, and he took the young Pole by the arm and led

him away. “With this I can go anywhere,” showed not only his ambitious

spirit, but demonstrated faithfulness in the prosecution of his studies,

which now stood him in good stead and made him master of the situation.

How true, as Massinger sang,

“_Man was marked

A friend in the creation, to himself,

And may, with fit ambition, conceive

The greatest blessings and the highest honors

Appointed for him, if he can achieve them

The right and noble way._”

HINTS TO SUCCESSFUL AMBITION.

Ambition, to succeed, must seize opportunity by the forelock. “Behind

she is bald; if you seize her by the forelock, you may hold her; if

suffered to escape, not Jupiter himself can catch her again.” “Do that

which lies nearest you,” is an injunction worth obeying, and though not

the most satisfactory, may be the stepping-stone to something higher.

John D. Rockefeller, who is computed to be worth three hundred million

dollars, earned his first money hoeing potatoes, and when thirty-five

years of age owned but a thousand dollars. When Edison was a very poor

young man, walking the streets in search of work, he happened to step

into an office in Wall street. The telegraph recording machine was out

of order, and no one could make it work. Instead of pleading his case in

general statements, he simply asked if he might try his hand on the

balky machine. He was permitted, and was successful. This was the

turning point in his career toward fortune. He not only had knowledge

and skill enough to make a machine go, but he had wit enough to perceive

the opportunity just at hand. Some things are difficult to perceive

because they are close to us. But this is all the more reason why we

should look for them and with the barest possibility seize them.

Ambition which ennobles, must do well whatever there is to be done.

Gladstone’s advice to boys was, “Be thorough in what you do, and

remember that, though ignorance often may be innocence, pretension is

always despicable.” President Garfield tells of a schoolmate who

established a factory for the single purpose of making hammers, which he

had brought to great perfection, and in which he took a great pride. The

statesman said to his old friend, “By this time you must be able to make

a pretty good hammer.” The hammer-maker, who was shipping his wares by

the thousands to all parts of the earth, replied: “No, we do not make

any pretty good hammers; we make the best hammers that can be made.” “I

commission thee, my son,” said an aged artist, whose eye was failing and

hand trembling, “do thy best.” The young man hesitated, thinking the

duty too vast to finish his master’s work, but the injunction “do thy

best” rang in his ears. With prayer for help and high purpose in heart,

the young man began. As he wrought, his hand grew steady, his conception

cleared, each stroke became a master-stroke until with tearful

exultation, the aged artist gave over into the hand of Leonardo da Vinci

the task from which his own trembling hand was dropping, which task for

da Vinci meant a world-wide reputation.

“I was invited,” said the late D. W. Richardson, “to give an address at

St. Andrew’s University, and to listen in the evening to a lecture by

another man—like myself, an outsider. I was not personally acquainted

with this other man, but I knew that he filled an important judicial

office in Scotland, and was considered one of the most able and learned,

as well as one of the wittiest men in that country. He chose for his

subject ‘Self-Culture,’ and for an hour held us in a perfect dream of

pleasure. For my own part, I could not realize that the hour had fled.

The lecture ended at seven o’clock, and at eight I found myself seated

at dinner by the side of the lecturer, at the house of one of the

university professors. In the course of the dinner I made some reference

to the hall in which the exercises of the day had been held, how good it

was for sound, and what a fine structure to look upon. ‘And did you like

the way in which the stones were laid inside?’ asked my new friend.

‘Immensely,’ I replied, ‘the man who laid those stones was an artist who

must have thought that his work would live through the ages.’ ‘Well,

that is pleasant to hear,’ he said, ‘for the walls are my ain daein’.’

He had the Scottish accent when in earnest. ‘Fortunate man,’ I replied,

‘to have the means to build so fine a place,’ for I thought, naturally

enough, that, being a rich man, he had built this hall at his own

expense, and presented it to the university. ‘Fortunate, truly,’ he

answered, ‘but not in that sense. What I mean is, that I laid every one

of those stones with my ain hand. I was a working mason, and the builder

of the hall gave me the job of laying the inside stone-work; and I never

had a job in my life in which I took so much pride and so much

pleasure.’

“While this man was working with his hands he was working also with his

brain. He took his degree, went to the bar, and became a man honored

throughout the country. We applauded his brilliant lecture; but those

silent, beautiful stones before him, which echoed our applause, must, I

think, have been to him one cheer more, and a big one.”

Be ambitious, my boy. Embrace every opportunity, for such “is the small

end of a big thing.” The small end comes first and may be good as a

handle. “My chance has come,” said Commodore Dewey to a naval captain

with whom he dined just before leaving Washington to assume command of

the Asiatic squadron early in 1898. “You know, Farragut did not get his

chance till he was over sixty, but he took it, and—” something

interfered with the conversation and the sentence was never finished in

words, but the rest of it reverberated around the world from the roar of

Dewey’s guns at Manila. Keep your eyes open. Hear, but say little. Count

the cost before you bargain. Weigh matters before you buy, and if there

is a possibility of success, grasp it. Spare no labor, nor shrink from

danger, for in the words of Montrose,

“_He either fears his fate too much

Or his deserts are small,

That dares not put it to the touch

To gain or lose it all._”

CHAPTER VI

Be Industrious

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER VI

BY JOHN T. RICH

Industry—

To meditate, to plan, resolve, perform,

Which in itself is good—as surely brings

Reward of good, no matter what be done.

—_Pollock._

Industry stimulates honesty,—honesty for its own sake, not because it is

the best policy.

Such sweetened by courtesy, seasons our attainments with a delightful

relish and portends a rich reward.

—_H. D. Wilson._

Industry means success in life. Without it, genius, ability, scholarship

and good intentions are of no avail. By industry, poverty, lack of

opportunity and the greatest obstacles in human life may be overcome,

and success in life assured.

[Illustration: John T. Rich]

CHAPTER VI

BE INDUSTRIOUS

“The best thing I remember,” said Chauncey Depew to a company of young

men in New York, “was my graduation from Yale. I made up my mind that

day that I would lead a life of scholastic ease. I thought I would read

a little, write a little, take it easy and have a good time. I had a

hard-headed father of sturdy Dutch ancestry. He had enough money to take

care of me, and I knew it, and when he discovered that I knew it and

intended to act accordingly, it was a cold day for me. Said he, ‘You

will never get a dollar from me except through my will. From this time

forth you have to make your own way.’ Well, I found I had a hard lot of

it—nobody had a harder one—and my father stood by and watched me tussle

and fight it out. I bless him for that to-night with all the heart and

gratitude I have. If he had taken the other course, what should I have

done? I should have been up in Peekskill to-night nursing a stove,

complaining of the men who have succeeded in the world, and wondering by

what exceptional luck they had got on; but having my way to dig alone, I

got beyond everything my father dreamed of, but it was done by fourteen,

or sixteen, or eighteen hours’ work a day, if necessary.”

The path to any notable achievement, whether business or professional,

is not easy. “No pains, no gains,” is an old English proverb, which is

akin to the well-known one, “No sweat, no sweet.” Few are the royal

roads to fame. Every house Beautiful is situated on a hill Difficulty,

the pathway to which is lion-guarded. He who has not the hardihood to

climb the one and face the other, will never cross the threshold of the

palace. Former Chief Justice Chase used to say that when he came to

Washington, a poor boy, an uncle of his was a member of the Cabinet. He

went to him and said, “I want to get a place under the government.” His

uncle answered, “Salmon, if you want money to buy a pickaxe and shovel

to go to work out here on the street, I will furnish you with the money;

but you shall never have a position, under the government, with my

consent.” To that act of his uncle Chief Justice Chase said he owed his

successful career. “Your royal highness,” said Paderewski when told that

he was surely inspired, “will be surprised when I tell you that I

remember the day when I was quite an indifferent player. I was

determined, however, to be what the world calls a genius, and to be a

genius I well knew that I must first be a drudge, for genius and

drudgery always go hand in hand. Genius”—and Paderewski spoke

excitedly—“is three-quarters drudgery—that’s what genius is. I at one

time practiced day after day, year after year, till I became almost

insensible to sound—became a machine, as it were. Now, ‘Paderewski is a

genius,’ says the world! Yes, but Paderewski was a drudge before he was

a genius!”

Just as the acorn goes slowly toward the oak, so does the babe journey

toward the sage. Haydn and Handel were years before they presented the

world with perfect music. Some of the pages of Tennyson’s manuscript

have as many as fifty corrections. Only by filling barrels with

manuscripts and steadily refusing to publish, Robert Louis Stevenson

attained his exquisite style. Millet described his career as ten years

of daubing, ten years of despair, and ten years of liberty and success.

Of the late Professor Joseph H. Thayer of Harvard Divinity School, it

was said, “His greatness was the result, not of native ability alone,

but of life-long tireless industry.” Addressing his students he once

asked, “Do you wish to become great? Remember it means more hours at

your desk. The greater you desire to become, the more hours you must

work.” Genius is not only the capacity for keeping at it, but taking

pains in its accomplishments. Wellington’s military genius was said to

have been perfected by encounters with difficulties of apparently the

most overwhelming character, yet such trained him to self-reliance,

courage and the highest discipline.

A boy once wrote to Henry Ward Beecher soliciting his aid in securing an

easy place wherein he might make his mark. Mr. Beecher replied, “You

cannot be an editor; do not try the law; do not think of the ministry;

let alone all ships, shops and merchandise; abhor politics, don’t

practice medicine; be not a farmer nor a mechanic, neither be a soldier

nor a sailor; don’t work, don’t study, don’t think. None of these are

easy. My son, you have come into a hard world. I know of only one easy

place in this world, _and that is the grave_.”

INDOLENT BOYS.

Indolence is a characteristic of some boys. Some one wrote:

“_A boy will hunt and a boy will fish,

Or play baseball all day;

But a boy won’t think and a boy won’t work,

Because he’s not built that way._”

Doubtless this is a gross exaggeration. All boys are not “made that

way,” though there are some, who, at the thought—

“_—of an errand are as ‘tired as a hound’,

Very weary of life and of ‘tramping around’;

But if there’s a band or a circus in sight,

They’ll follow it gladly from morning till night.

If there’s work in the garden, their heads ache to split!

And their backs are so lame that they ‘can’t dig a bit’;

But mention baseball, and they’re cured very soon,

And they’ll dig for a woodchuck the whole afternoon._”

The father of Daniel and Ezekiel Webster on leaving the home for a short

time gave these boys some special work on the farm. On his return he

found the labor unperformed, and frowning, demanded, “What have you been

doing Ezekiel?” “Nothing, sir,” was the reply. “Well, Daniel, what have

you been doing?” “Helping Zeke, sir,” he answered. How many boys are

likewise disposed. They care not, and, if they can help it, will not

work. They are like

—“_a watch that wants both hands,

As useless when it goes as when it stands._”

MISCHIEF FOR IDLE HANDS.

Idleness has been well expressed by the ancients as “the burial of a

living man.” It is “the very rust and canker of the soul, the devil’s

cushion, pillow and chief reposal.” The boy who courts it will

experience no little personal feeling of disgust in after years. When

along in life, he will be able to say with a French beggar, who, while

undergoing a long imprisonment, tattooed upon his right arm, “The past

has deceived me, the present torments me, the future terrifies me.”

Better heed Plato’s advice, “Prefer diligence before idleness, unless

you esteem rust above brightness, for idleness is the hour of

temptation.”

“Wanted, a well-grown boy who can make himself generally useful. Salary

moderate to start with.” This was the advertisement that had called

together some twenty-five boys. The merchant talked with one after

another until only two remained in the outer office. “Come in, both of

you,” called the merchant, “I can tell you what I want and what I’m

willing to pay.” Then followed an enumeration of the services expected

with the promise of two and a half dollars a week with an increase at

the end of each six months. One of the two boys turned on his heel and

said, “That settles it! I can’t afford to work for any such wages as

that.” “I’ll try it,” said the other, “and if I suit you six months will

soon pass. The two-fifty will pay my actual expenses, for I live at

home; then when I get to earning more I can help more.” Five years

passed. The first boy idled away his time and went from bad to worse. At

last he stood in the prisoner’s dock awaiting trial for forgery. What

was his astonishment to behold his former friend ranged on the side of

the prosecution as junior member of a firm of eminent lawyers. There was

no need for argument on either side, for the poor fellow broke down at

the sight of his former schoolmate, and rising, said, “I’ll tell the

truth and take my punishment. If I’d begun as that young man did five

years ago I might have been somebody to-day, but I was above low wages

and didn’t believe in small beginnings. Now I am a living example of

what pride and indolence can do for a boy.” Satan is sure to find

mischief for idle hands, and the only way to keep clear of his work is

to be busy at something, pay or no pay.

Industry is one of the pet laws of nature, and as Periander, one of the

Seven Wise Men of Greece, said, “Nothing is impossible to industry.” It

has conquered our American forests, built cities as by magic, improved

prairies and valleys until they blossom like the rose, and made our

civilization rich with the arts, both liberal and fine. Long before the

Indians owned California the gold fields were there. Before Franklin

found electricity in the clouds, it was there. Before Marconi discovered

the unseen waves of air to carry his messages across the sea, they were

there. All that was needed was concentration, careful thinking and

earnest, persistent effort to bring them into use.

All great men have had the gift of laboring intensely, continually and

determinedly before succeeding, many of whom won their way against heavy

odds. Arsaces, who founded the Parthian empire, against which the mighty

hosts of Rome long contended in vain, was a mechanic of obscure origin.

Andersen, the popular Danish author, was the son of a cobbler, and in

his earlier years worked on the bench, doing his literary work on scraps

of paper during the moments of rest from his regular duties. Cararra

began his life as a drummer boy and driver of cattle, but subsequently

rose to the presidency of the Republic of Guatemala. Demosthenes, the

Greek orator and “prince of eloquence,” was the son of a blacksmith. In

his first attempt at public speaking, he displayed such a weakness of

voice, imperfect articulation and awkwardness that he withdrew from the

speaker’s platform amidst the hooting and laughter of his hearers.

Giotto, one of the founders of Italian art, was a shepherd boy whom

Cimabue discovered drawing sheep in the sand with a pointed stone, with

such accuracy that he took him as a student. Herschel when a boy, played

for balls, and while the dancers were lounging round the room he would

go out and take a peep at the heavens through his telescope. It was

while doing this that he discovered the Georgium Sidus, which made him

famous. Samuel Richardson, the novelist, was a poor bookseller. He sold

his books in the front part of the store, while he wrote them in the

rear. It was a hard struggle. “My own industry and God’s providence,”

said he, “have been my whole reliance.” Lough, the English sculptor,

reached success only through self-denial and hard work. He followed the

plough by day and modelled by night. At length he went to London and

took lodgings in an obscure house in a back street above a grocer’s

shop, and there began his statue of Milo. While working on it he went

three months without meat. All the coal he used that winter was a bushel

and a half. When Peter Coxe found him he was tearing up his shirt and

dipping the strips into water to keep the clay moist. At last the statue

was finished. The roof had been removed to finish its head. His work was

soon noised abroad and sculptors took great interest in it. The Duke of

Wellington went to see it and ordered a statue, and the boy who had

struggled and suffered so much became the greatest sculptor of England.

“I SEE IT!”

James Ferguson, the Scotch astronomer, was very anxious when a boy to

understand the mechanism of watches. His father refused to allow him to

play with his watch, and so James waited until a stranger called with a

watch. “Will you be good enough to tell me what time it is?” asked the

boy. The gentleman told him. “Would you be willing that I should look at

your watch?” continued James. “Certainly,” replied the gentleman. The

boy took the watch eagerly. After examining it for a moment he asked,

“What makes that box go round?” “A steel spring,” replied the owner.

“How can a steel spring in a box turn it round so as to wind up all the

chain?” The gentleman explained the process. “I don’t see through it

yet,” answered the boy. “Well, now,” said the visitor, who had become

interested, “take a long, thin piece of whale-bone, hold one end of it

fast between your thumb and forefinger, and wind it around your finger.

It will then attempt to unwind, and if you fix the other end of it to

the inside of a small hoop and leave it to itself it will turn the hoop

round and round and wind up a thread tied to the outside.” “I see it! I

see it!” exclaimed the boy, enthusiastically. “Thank you, very much!” It

was not long before he had made a wooden watch, which he enclosed in a

case about the size of a teacup. Soon after this he was set to watching

sheep by night. Here he took an interest in the stars with as great a

zeal as in the watch and ere long became noted as a great astronomer.

PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE.

Boys of to-day are living in the most enlightened age, when everything

is an improvement of the past. Time was when man lived in caves, now in

mansions; when he sailed the rivers in dug-outs of trees, now in

steamers; when he traveled overland in ox-carts, now on steam cars; when

he depended on fire or candle light to banish darkness, now electricity;

when he spun cotton and wove it by a crude hand machine, now the

spinning jenny and power loom; when he wrote on the bark of a tree with

a sharpened iron or stick, now on the finest paper with a typewriter;

when he sent messages by swift runners, now by telegraph. He now holds

communication with other continents by cable, brings distant worlds near

with the telescope, examines a single hair of a fly with the microscope

and harnesses the elements of nature in his forward movement. All things

are conquered, utilized and perfected by industry. “Fortune,” as one

said, “is ever on the side of the industrious, as winds and waves are on

the side of the best navigators.” There is no reason why any industrious

boy should not reach the pinnacle of success. To do so will doubtless

mean struggles, hard thinking, careful planning, but the end pays for

all.

My boy, remember there is a place for you in the world. A place

honorable, useful, influential, but it demands tireless exertion,

steadfastness of purpose, carefulness of detail to reach and hold it. To

neglect is to invite suffering in the future. “If I neglect my practice

a day,” said Malibran the singer, “I see the difference in my execution;

if for two days, my friends see it; and if for a week, all the world

knows my failure.”

Don’t wait my lad, for something to “turn up.” “Things,” said Garfield,

“don’t turn up in this world until somebody turns them up.” While

ninety-nine persons wait for chances that never come, the one hundredth

realizing upon his irresistible strength and determination, makes his

chance. “Never mind. What is the next thing to be done?” asked young

Huxley, when he failed to pass the medical examination on which he

thought his future depended. Looking back in after years at his defeat,

the great scientist wrote, “It does not matter how many tumbles you have

in life, so long as you do not get dirty when you tumble. It is only the

people who have to stop and be washed who must lose the race.”

“When I was a boy on my father’s farm in Connecticut,” said Collis P.

Huntington,—the man who had a hundred thousand people in his employ, “I

worked hard, utilizing every moment, for there was plenty to do. But if

I had any spare time I did chores for the neighbors. I never wanted for

anything I needed! I always got it. But many buy things they do not

need. When I went to New York in 1836 I had quite a sum of money, the

result of my savings, judicious investments, and little tradings about

the neighborhood.” He had an aim in life, and he worked till he

accomplished it. That person who has not a definite purpose cannot

expect to succeed. Philip, King of Macedon, lost his eye from a bowshot.

When the soldiers picked up the shaft they perceived upon it these

words, “To Philip’s eye!” The archer had an aim that accomplished

something, and he that has not, cannot.

“_It’s the boys to shape the path for men,

Boys to guide the plow and pen,

Boys to forward the task begun,

For the world’s great task is never done._

“_It’s the boys who’ll work that are needed

In sanctum or office or shop,

Remembering the low lands are crowded

But there’s room for the industrious, on top._”

CHAPTER VII

Be Studious

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER VII

BY GEORGE S. CULL

The boy who would be an intelligent and wise man needs to be studious.

What may now seem irksome employment will prove a delight in after

years. Through study he will not be a burden to himself, nor will “his

society be,” as Seneca said, “insupportable to others.”

Study whenever and wherever you can. Pliny in one of his Letters relates

how he used spare moments. “Sometimes I hunt; but even then I carry with

me a pocket-book, that whilst my servants are busied in disposing of

nets and other matters, I may be employed in something that may be

useful to me in my studies; and that if I miss of my game, I may at

least bring home some of my thoughts with me, and not have the

mortification of having caught nothing.”

In choosing subjects you will not have to combat with the difficulties

our forefathers met, for in these days of cheap paper and cheap printing

the whole world of literature is open to you. But here, my lad, let me

warn you against the worthless, the pernicious trash with which the

literary market is flooded.

Study history with its descriptions of growth and decay of nations;

science with its marvels and recent revelations, biographies of good and

great men and nature whose pages are always open to view. Study

everything which will lead you to look higher and feel nobler.

[Illustration: G. S. Cull.]

CHAPTER VII

BE STUDIOUS

The impression that study is only for those who attend school is

decidedly wrong. If carried into practice it would prove disastrous to

one’s success. There is no period in life when one can afford to be

otherwise than studious. Had Henry Clay after learning to write by

filling a box with sand and tracing letters with a pointed stick, or had

young Daniel Webster, after plucking his pen out of the wings of his

mother’s pet goose and making ink out of the soot scraped from the

fireplace, ceased to go farther, their names as great speakers and

writers would not be known.

John Quincy Adams was considered the most learned man of his day. When

his parents intended to keep him in school, he plead so earnestly to

leave that they gave him his choice between two things, work on the farm

or school. John said he thought he would work and he was therewith

assigned with other help in ditching. After working three days he became

weary of his job and coming to his father said: “Father, if you are

willing I guess I’ll go back to school.” In after life he confessed, “If

I have accomplished anything as a scholar, I owe it to those three days’

work in the abominable ditch.”

General Lew Wallace, according to his own words, was a poor student in

his young manhood. He grew tired of his college course after six weeks,

and returned home. Calling him into his office, his father took from a

pigeonhole in his desk a package of papers neatly folded and tied with

red tape. These were the receipts for his tuition. After reading the

items the father said, “That sum represents what I have expended to

provide you with a good education. After mature reflection I have come

to the conclusion that I have done for you, in that direction, all that

can reasonably be expected of any parent; and I have, therefore, called

you in to tell you that you have now reached an age when you must take

up the lines yourself. If you have failed to profit by the advantages

with which I have tried so hard to surround you, the responsibility must

be yours. I shall not upbraid you for your neglect, but rather pity you

for your indifference which you have shown to the golden opportunities

you have been enabled to enjoy through my indulgence.”

Lew left the office thinking. The next day he set out with a

determination to accomplish something for himself. He secured employment

of the County Clerk to copy the records of the courts. For months he

worked in a dingy, half-lighted room, receiving as compensation ten

cents per hundred words. The tediousness and regularity of the work was

a splendid drill besides teaching him the virtue of persistence as one

of the avenues of success. He had a desire to become a lawyer, but

realizing his deficiency in education he was compelled to study

evenings. “I was made to realize,” said he, “the time I had spent with

such lavish prodigality could not be recovered, and that I must extract

every possible good out of the golden moments then flying by all too

fast.” This he did until “Ben Hur,” one of the greatest books ever

published, show how well he did it.

WHAT IT IS.

To be studious is to be ambitious, to excel, to be anxious for the

acquisition of such knowledge as will be beneficial. From any source it

will be gathered as the bee gathers honey from any flower. “Drink deep

or taste not the Pierian spring of knowledge,” wrote an eminent poet.

“Study chiefly,” said Lord Bacon to Cecil, “what you can turn to good

account in your future life.” James Russell Lowell once counselled his

nephew, “A man is valuable in our day for what he knows, and his company

will be always desired by others in exact proportion to the amount of

intelligence and instruction he brings with him.” William E. Gladstone

in counselling boys said, “Get all the knowledge you can.” And Theodore

Roosevelt declared, “Shiftlessness, slackness, indifference to studying

are all most certain to mean inability to get on in other walks of

life.”

A GOOD AIM.

A boy accompanied an old hunter through the woods in search of game.

Suddenly a partridge whirred from before their feet. The huntsman with

steady nerve, quick eye and calculating brain brought the bird down at

the first shot. “How could you aim so quickly?” the lad inquired. “I

didn’t wait till I got into the woods to learn,” was his chaffing reply.

He had done what Stone, the author of “The Mathematical Dictionary” did

when perusing scientific works while aiding his father, who was gardener

to the Duke of Argyll, had done; what David Livingstone did before he

became Africa’s explorer, while in the old Blantyre cotton works with a

Latin grammar on his spinning jenny; had done, what Ezra Cornell did

before he built a two-story dwelling for his father’s family when only

seventeen years of age; had done, what Henry Clay did with “these

off-hand efforts” as he called his speeches in the corn field before he

stirred the country with his orations,—made careful preparation

beforehand.

What one will be in manhood depends largely on what he is in boyhood.

The loftiest attainments are nothing more than fruits of earnest study.

There is no perfection, no great excellence without great labor. “It is

the deepest soil,” said Dewey, “that yields not only the richest fruits,

but the fairest flowers; it is the most solid body which is not only the

most useful, but which admits of the highest polish and brilliancy; it

is the strongest pinion which not only carries the greatest burden, but

which soars to the highest flight.” It is the best education which fits

a person for a responsible position. If a man succeeds who has had no

education he does so in spite of his misfortune and not by reason of it.

Dickens owed less to education than probably any literary man. He was

not in school two years in his whole life, but he was a genius by right

divine. Few are so richly endowed, hence “a good education is a young

man’s best capital.”

THE DUNCE.

He was called the dunce. His teacher would stand him apart from his

class, for he could not or would not learn. One day a gentleman came

into the room and seeing the lad standing, inquired the reason. “Oh, he

is good for nothing,” replied the teacher. “There’s nothing in him. I

can make nothing out of him. He is the most stupid boy in the school.”

The gentleman was stirred to pity. Going to him, he placed his hand on

the head of the humiliated lad and said, “One of these days, you may be

a fine scholar. Don’t give up, but try, my boy, try.” The boy’s soul was

aroused. His dormant intellect awoke. A new purpose was formed.

Clinching his teeth, he said, “I will.” From that hour he became

ambitious and studious. He became a great scholar, an author of a

well-known commentary on the Bible, and was beloved and honored by many.

This dunce was the celebrated Adam Clarke.

The same was true of others. Isaac Newton was kicked by the brightest

boy in the school because he was the most ignorant, but he said, “Never

mind, I’ll repay him by beating him in my studies.” After a long time of

earnest effort he did it. Oliver Goldsmith in his boyhood was very

stupid, but he resolved to surprise his fellow students, and this he did

by writing that popular book, the “Traveller.” Sir Walter Scott was

nicknamed the “blockhead” when a student, but he declared, “I’ll make

them change it,” and change it they did. Through close study he attained

such eminence that he was afterward styled, “The Wizard of the North.”

Sir William Jones, the greatest scholar of Europe, was not a bright

student. He was put into a class beyond his years, and where all the

scholars had the advantage in that they had previous instruction that

had been denied him. The teacher accused him of dullness, and all his

efforts could not raise him from the foot of the class. He was not

daunted. Procuring for himself grammars and other elementary text books,

which the rest of the class had gone through in private terms, he

devoted the hours of play, and some of the hours of sleep, to the

mastering of them. By this he soon shot ahead of his fellow pupils, and

became the leader of the class and the pride of Harrow School. Dean

Stanley was declared by Mr. Rawson, his schoolmaster, to be the

stupidest boy at figures who ever came under his care, save only one,

who was yet more hopeless, and was unable to grasp simple addition and

multiplication, yet Arthur Stanley rose like a rocket at Rugby, achieved

fame in Oxford and became a blessing to mankind. The other developed a

phenomenal mastery of arithmetic. Years after he would make a budget

speech of three hours’ length and full of figures. He is known

throughout the world as William E. Gladstone.

HOW TO STUDY.

Boys of studious mind may achieve an education if they desire. It may

not be such as will enable them to secure a diploma from a college, but

such as will make them successful and useful. All should strive for a

college education. It is an investment, the returns of which in after

years will be worth more and may do more than gold. Kitto, who was one

of the greatest Biblical scholars in the world, receiving from the

University of Geissen the degree of Doctor of Divinity, craved for the

greatest knowledge of his day. Notwithstanding his affliction of

deafness he begged his drunken father to take him from the poor-house

and let him struggle for an education. Said he, “I know how to stop

hunger. Hottentots live a long time on nothing but gum. Sometimes when

hungry they tie a band around their bodies. Let me go. I can do as they

do. There are blackberries and nuts in the hedges, and turnips in the

fields and hay-ricks for a bed. Let me go.” And go he did with the

already mentioned result.

Should circumstances, however, prevent a college education, every boy

should use the margins of time in reading books and studying principles

until he attains a cultured mind. Reading is one of the great means of

education, and whether it be a blessing or curse, depends on what is

read. By reading one communes with the mightiest and wisest minds. Great

men have usually been great readers. Abraham Lincoln and James A.

Garfield used to read and study lying flat upon the floor before the

fire. Hugh Miller, after working from early morn to night as a

stone-mason, managed to find time after his hours of work to read every

good book he could secure, pondering over them during the day. In this

way he became eminent as a scholar, and when the time came in Scotland’s

history that some man should plead for her ecclesiastical freedom from

State domination, Hugh Miller stepped to the front, though until he was

thirty-three years old he was nothing more than a studious stone-mason.

To remember what one reads is of great importance. It is not the amount

of matter read but the amount remembered. Lord Macaulay always stopped

at the foot of each page and gave a verbal account of what he read. Said

he, “At first I had to read it three or four times before I got my mind

firmly fixed. But I compelled myself to comply with the plan, until now,

after I have read a book once through, I can almost recite it from

beginning to end. It is a very simple habit to form early in life, and

is valuable as a means of making our reading serve the best purpose.”

Granville Sharp was only an apprentice to a linen draper in London. To

know the exact meaning of the Scriptures he mastered the Greek and

Hebrew languages. A poor lame and almost blind African who had been

cured by his brother’s medical skill was recognized on the streets of

the metropolis by his old master and claimed as a slave. Granville

resolved that the negro shall never more be in bondage. But what can he

do? Slavery was then a legal right. Lord Chief Justice Mansfield was of

the opinion that a slave did not become free by coming to England.

Granville Sharp soon decided on his course. For two years he read and

memorized law. Then came the tract from his pen, “Injustice of

Tolerating Slavery in England,” which changed the mind of Mansfield and

eventually made the slave-trade of England illegal.

Every boy should study by concentrating his mind. The reason of so much

ignorance is not through a lack of educational facilities, but lack of

will force and mental force to master a subject in hand. Many a boy

commits his lessons parrot-like, with little or no disposition to

understand the _whys_ and _wherefores_, while another studies and

inquires until he comprehends the _reason_ of all that he learns. The

result is, one masters his study, the other is mastered by his study.

When Sir Isaac Newton was asked “how he had discovered the true system

of the universe” he replied, “By continually thinking upon it.”

EYES OPEN.

Every boy should study with eyes open. The inspired penman declared,

“The wise man’s eyes are in his head,” not in his elbows or feet, though

multitudes act as if they were. But “in his head,” just where they ought

to be. In other words, the “wise man” is a careful observer; he

possesses this faculty of comprehending the nature and reason of things.

Not that observation alone insures success but this is one of the

leading, indispensable elements of it.

Professor Morse, who was judge of pottery at the World’s Fair, Chicago,

being asked to what he attributed his knowledge, answered, “To the

habits of close inspection acquired in my boyhood when collecting

shells.” General Sherman explains his victorious march to the sea by

saying that during his college days he spent a summer in Georgia. While

his companions were occupied with playing cards and foolish talk the

young soldier tramped over the hills, made a careful map of the country

and years later his expert knowledge won the victory.

Many persons go through life without an observation that is educative.

Ten men will observe a steam engine only to admire its novelty, one

studies each valve and screw until he understands the principle on which

it is constructed. Ten travelers will pass through the country without

noticing special peculiarities, one observes each tree, flower, hill,

valley and river. Ten readers will skim over a book, catching only its

general drift, one criticises style, expression and thought and is rapt

with its beauties and sensitive to its faults. These are they who profit

themselves and benefit others.

USING THE MOMENTS.

Every boy should study by utilizing the moments. As success in business

depends upon the small margin of profit secured and retained, rather

than upon the large volume done, so success in life may depend upon our

ability to save the moments, the precious “margin” that is left after we

have done the things which are necessary in order to discharge our

duties or earn our daily bread.

Dr. Cotton Mather would express his regret after the departure of a

visitor who had wasted his time, “I would rather have given my visitor a

handful of money than have been kept so long out of my study.” Cæsar, it

is said, would not permit a campaign, however exacting, to deprive him

of minutes when he could write his Commentaries. Schliemann standing in

line at the post-office and waiting for his letters when a boy, saved

the fragments of time by studying Greek from a pocket grammar. Heine,

the noted classicist of Germany, while shelling peas with one hand for

dinner, held his book in the other. Matthew Hale’s “Contemplations” was

composed while he was traveling as circuit judge. Henry Kirke White

learnt Greek while walking to and from a lawyer’s office. Elihu Burritt

is said to have mastered eighteen languages and twenty-two dialects by

improving the fragments of time in his blacksmith’s shop. William E.

Gladstone and Lord Lyttelton in their younger days always carried one of

the smaller classics in their pockets to read if they had a leisure

moment. Sir James Paget, in his youth, made tables of Cuvier’s

classifications while dressing, which he posted in his bedroom. Cardinal

Manning, when an undergraduate at Oxford, acquired a satisfactory

Italian vocabulary during the time spent in shaving. Phillips Brooks

combined the processes of shaving and study, and, it is said that

Theodore Roosevelt carries constantly a small volume of Plutarch or

Thucydides to read in spare moments. Fifteen minutes thus saved, or

utilized, four times a day, gives us thirty hours in a month, the

working time of about sixty days of six hours each in a year, or about

five years’ study in thirty years’ time, and five years well used yield

more fruit than a whole lifetime squandered.

PLEASURE AND PROFIT.

Every boy should study for the pleasure and profit there is in it.

Knowledge is power, and sometime, somewhere, the information will come

useful. When Sherman’s troops were passing through a critical experience

during the Civil War, they captured a telegraph line of the enemy.

Hastily cutting the wire, the General inquired if any of his men

understood telegraphy. A young officer stepped forward saying, “One

vacation I studied this art just for the pleasure of it.”

When Bishop Whipple came to Chicago to preach he was anxious to reach

the many artisans and railway operatives. He called upon William

McAlpine, the chief engineer of the Galena Railway, and asked his advice

as to the best way of approaching the employes of the road. “How much do

you know about a steam engine?” asked McAlpine. “Nothing.” “Then,” said

McAlpine, “read ‘Lardner’s Railway Economy’ until you are able to ask an

engineer a question about a locomotive and he not think you a fool.” The

clergyman had the practical sense to see the justice of that advice. So

he “read up,” and in due season went to the round-house of the Galena

Railway, where he found a number of engineers standing by a locomotive

which the firemen were cleaning. He saw that it was a Taunton engine

with inside connections, and asked, at a venture, “Which do you like

best, inside or outside connections?” This brought out information about

steam heaters and variable exhausts, and in half an hour he had learned

more than his book had ever taught him. When he said good-by, he added:

“Boys, where do you go to church? I have a free church in Metropolitan

Hall, where I shall be glad to see you, and if at any time you need me,

shall be glad to go to you.” The following Sunday every man was in

church.