“_Give to the world the best you have,

And the best will come back to you._”

A poor soldier one day called at the shop of a hair-dresser, who was

busy with his customers, and asked relief, stating that he had stayed

beyond his leave of absence, and unless he could get passage on a coach,

fatigue and severe punishment awaited him. The hair-dresser listened to

his story respectfully and gave him a guinea. “God bless you, sir!”

exclaimed the soldier, astonished at the amount, “how can I repay you? I

have nothing in the world but this,” pulling a dirty scrap of paper from

his pocket. “It is a receipt for making blacking, and is the best that

was ever seen. Many a half guinea I have had for it from the officers,

and many bottles have I sold. May you be able to get something for it to

repay you for your kindness to a poor soldier.” Oddly enough, that dirty

piece of paper proved worth half a million pounds to the hair-dresser.

It was no less than the receipt for the famous Day and Martin’s

blacking, the hair-dresser being the late wealthy Mr. Day, whose factory

is one of the notable sights of the English metropolis.

Be generous, my boy. Not in one thing, but many. In chemical galvanism,

it is the number, not the size, of the cells, which increases the power

of the battery. In generosity, it is not the large gift, but the number

of little gifts; not the one kind word, but the many. Not the great

acts, but the continued small ones. To your enemy manifest generosity in

forgiveness; to your opponent, tolerance; to your parents, deference; to

yourself, respect; to all, charity.

“_Count that day lost whose low descending sun

Views from thy hand no worthy action done._”

CHAPTER XVI

Be Careful of Your Company

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER XVI

BY NEAL DOW

Be cautious with whom you associate, and never give your company or

your confidence to persons of whose good principles you are not

certain.—_Bishop Coleridge._

_NO_ company is far preferable to bad, because we are more apt to

catch the vices of others than virtues, as disease is far more

contagious than health.—_Colton._

Avoid as if struck with leprosy, anyone who is profane, who smokes, who

is untruthful, who is unmindful of the rights and feelings of others,

and do not forget that strong drink leads directly to all evil. Avoid it

as you would a fatal disease.

[Illustration: Neal Dow]

CHAPTER XVI

BE CAREFUL OF YOUR COMPANY

There is a well established rule, by which one is judged by the company

he keeps. No word of explanation need be given, for the companions he

selects and in whose circle he moves speak louder than words. The choice

of associates is a very important one. As in a vitiated air, it is hard

for a strong constitution to escape sickness, so however firm and

settled a boy’s principles might be, there is danger of losing them by

the influence and example of corrupt companions.

It is said to be a property of the tree-frog to acquire the color of any

object to which it adheres for a short time. Thus if found on growing

corn it is commonly a dark green, and if found on the white oak, it has

the color peculiar to that tree. Just so is it with boys. One usually

resembles those with whom he associates and becomes like them.

Unconsciously he takes on their image, thinks and acts like them, and is

a just photograph of them. If the companions are of high moral standard

they will prove a blessing, but if slovenly and unclean in appearance,

unbecoming in language, impolite in action, they will be a curse. The

boy who associates with these invites an unsavory reputation; and sooner

or later, no matter what excellent qualities he may have, will be

contaminated as is silver when kept in contact with copper.

IMPOSSIBLE TO BE GOOD AND KEEP BAD COMPANY.

In no little degree is one influenced by the speech, manners and habits

of companions. “Is example nothing?” asks Edmund Burke. “It is

everything. Example is the school of mankind, and it will learn at no

other,” he answers. It is because of this that many lawbreakers come

from the best families through evil associations. “May it please the

Court,” said a convicted criminal when asked if he had anything to say

before sentence of death was passed upon him, “bad company has been my

ruin. I received the blessings of good parents, and in return promised

to avoid all evil associations. Had I kept my promise, I should have

been saved from this shame and been free from the load of guilt that

rests upon me. I, who once moved in good society, am lost, and all

through evil companions.” Many inexperienced boys form the idea that by

associating with rough, fast lads they might influence them to be

better, or by seeing the evil effects would learn to abhor wickedness

the more. These thoughts are foolish in the extreme, and if put into

practice, deprave nine times out of ten.

There is a poisonous reptile mentioned in “In Tropical Africa” that has

lived so long in a certain colored gravel that it has taken on the exact

color, so that a traveler cannot distinguish the one from the other

unless the reptile moves. To come in contact with it is to risk one’s

life. So the boy who wilfully courts the company of the bad risks the

safety of his character, for “vice,” as Pope said,

“—_is a monster with such frightful mien,

As to be hated, needs but to be seen;

Yet, seen too oft, familiar with its face,

We first endure, then pity, then embrace._”

Chemists tell us that one grain of iodine imparts color to seven

thousand grains of water. One bad boy may do more to injure one’s

character in a day than a lifetime can remedy. Goodness and badness will

associate no more than light and darkness. A rotten apple will corrupt a

barrel of good ones, but a barrel of good ones will not restore a rotten

one. Separation is the only safe plan.

THE ENCHANTER AND THE YOUTH.

A great magician once took a company of Bavarian youths to a lonely

place and entertained them at their request with his incantations. He

drew a circle around them with his sword and warned them not to leave or

break over on any account. By his first incantation he surrounded them

with armed men, who dared them to conflict, but none of them would be

lured or drawn beyond the line he had made with his sword. By the second

enchantment he surrounded them with a company of beautiful damsels, who

tried every power of attraction they could command. One of the dancing

damsels whose beauty exceeded that of the others, advanced to one of the

young men and with her enchantments had such an effect upon him that he

entirely forgot the restriction and stretched forth his finger beyond

the circle to receive the ring which she offered to place upon it. At

once she seized him and drew him after her, and it was only through

difficulty that he was rescued. What an illustration! This circle is the

rule of right, the armed men pride and passion, and the charmer a fair

representative of intemperance, vice and sensuality. The only safety for

a boy is within the circle of right. To step over its boundary is to

enter the domain of wrong. It is being enticed onto enchanted ground

where evil lurks in every flower, poison hides in every drink and death

watches beside every path. O my son, “If sinners entice thee, consent

thou not. Walk not in the way with them. Refrain thy foot from their

path,” and when they bid thee “cast in thy lot among us,” have the

courage to refuse.

COMPANY NOT TO KEEP.

Avoid vulgar companions. Vulgarity is like a blot on a clean sheet of

paper. Though it does not destroy the whole sheet, it damages and

discounts it to such an extent, that it is often cast aside as

worthless.

Avoid lazy companions. The “do-nothings” are usually the

“good-for-nothings.” They are of little use to themselves or anyone

else. Industrious people shun them and the ambitious have no respect for

them. Many a man who might have been rich and honorable has spent his

last days in the penitentiary or poor-house because the early days were

spent in idleness. Idleness is the mother of almost every crime, and he

who fellowships the idler runs the risk of being criminal. Then

“_Eschew the idle life!

Flee, flee, from doing naught;

For never was there idle brain

But bred an idle thought._”

Avoid sceptical companions. Making religion a mockery is a bad trait in

any boy and the sooner his room is considered better than his company,

the sooner will the boy be protected from the impure and irreligious. He

who neglects the house of God, desecrates the Sabbath and laughs at

others who are inclined to be pious is not the right kind of company to

keep.

An overseer in a mill found a pin which cost the company nearly five

hundred dollars. “Was it stolen?” asked an employe. “Was it a diamond

pin?” “Oh, no,” answered the overseer, “it was just such a pin as we use

without stint. You see, it happened this way. Calicoes, after they are

printed, washed and dried, are smoothed by being pressed over heated

rollers. By some mischance, a pin dropped so as to lie upon the

principal roller, and became wedged in it, the head standing out a

little from the surface. Over and over went the roller, and round and

round went the cloth, winding at length on another roller, until the

piece was measured off. Then another piece began to be dried and wound,

and so on until a hundred pieces had been counted. These were not

examined immediately, but removed from the machinery and laid aside.

When at length they came to be inspected, it was found that there were

holes in every piece throughout the web, and only three-quarters of a

yard apart. The pieces averaged about forty yards, which at twelve and a

half cents a yard amounted to about five hundred dollars. Of course the

goods could not be classed as perfect, so they were sold as remnants at

about half the price they would have brought had it not been for that

hidden pin.”

Thus it is when a boy takes for his companion one whose language is not

the most savory, who is inclined to be lazy and sceptical, that he does

himself a moral injury which increases with the association. Evil seed

is planted in his mind, which, as Seneca said, “is sure to spring up in

future resurrection,” discounting his reputation and damaging his

character beyond repair.

THE KIND OF COMPANY TO KEEP.

No boy can be too cautious with whom he associates, and

“_Without good company, all dainties

Lose their true relish, and like painted grapes,

Are only seen, not tasted._”

Would you acquire a good reputation? Seek the companionship of good

boys. Good begets good. “Flowers planted by the rose smell of the rose.”

“Companionship with the wise never fails to have a most valuable

influence on the formation of character, increasing resources,

strengthening resolves, elevating aims, and enabling one to exercise

greater dexterity and ability in his affairs, as well as more effective

helpfulness to others.” Thus Allan Cunningham when learning the trade of

a stone-mason in Nithsdale, walked all the way to Edinburgh that he

might see the face of Sir Walter Scott as he passed along the street.

Sir Joshua Reynolds, when a lad of only ten, thrust his hand through a

crowd of people that he might touch the Pope—the greatest living person

to his mind. Fox acknowledged very frequently his indebtedness to the

example and conversation of Edmund Burke; Tyndall speaks of Faraday as a

great energy to his life, and later wrote, “His works excite admiration,

but contact with him warms and elevates the heart.” Carlyle said,

“Hero-worship exists, has existed, and will forever exist, universally

among mankind.” Haydn’s hero was Sir Joshua Reynolds; Rogers the poet

had his hero in the person of Dr. Samuel Johnson; Hallam his in

Tennyson; Tennyson’s was William Ewart Gladstone, and Henry Martyn’s was

a big boy who defended him from others who picked on him, and who

assisted him in his studies at Cambridge. Unknown to the world the great

missionary acknowledged that this boy kept and defended him from evil

associates and inspired his soul with the love of truth and the work for

which he was called upon to sacrifice his life.

My boy, choose carefully your associates. “Seek at the first,” as

Marshall Field wrote, “to cultivate the acquaintance of those only whose

contact and influence will kindle high purposes, as I regard the

building up of a sterling character as one of the fundamental principles

of true success.” See to it that they are modest, studious, truthful,

moral; shunning evil places, avoiding questionable amusements, without

bad habits and in conduct exemplary. Choose “your superiors if possible,

your equals at least, your inferiors never.” Associate with boys who

will foster your piety and who will make you wiser and nobler. Lord

Brooks so esteemed the friendship of Sir Philip Sydney that he chose for

his epitaph: “Here lies Sir Philip Sydney’s friend.”

“_Be careful in choosing companions;

Seek only the brave and the true;

And stand by your friends when in trial,

Ne’er changing the old for the new.

And when by false friends you are tempted

To do things wrong, which you know,

With firmness, with patience and kindness,

Have courage, my boy, to say, ‘No!’_”

CHAPTER XVII

Be Cautious of Baneful Amusements

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER XVII

BY HENRY H. HADLEY

The youth who bathes in pleasure’s limpid stream

At well-judged intervals, feels all his soul

Nerved with recruited strength; but, if too oft

It chills his languid virtue.

—_Mason._

My boy and my son, I advise you not to touch a card. Don’t learn the

game or watch one. One of my companions fell dead in a gambling house by

a pistol shot from his own gun. His name was “Ben” Miller. His partner

“Froom” Featherly, said to me, “I wish I lay there with poor Ben. When I

learned to play cards at mother’s dining room table she never thought it

would come to this. Gambling is so fixed in my mind that I cannot stop.”

Drunkenness is insanity of the stomach, gambling is insanity of the

morals.

[Illustration: Henry H. Hadley]

CHAPTER XVII

BE CAUTIOUS OF BANEFUL AMUSEMENTS

It is related that during the reign of the bluff King Hal, there lived a

knight named Sir John Giffard, of Chillington, who possessed a beautiful

leopard. One day the animal escaped from its cage, and Sir John and his

son at once gave chase, for they knew that the leopard would spare no

human being it might meet. At the top of a hill, a mile from his house,

the worthy knight saw the animal about to attack a woman and child. Sir

John was armed with a bow and arrow, and rather breathless through

running; his son, fearing his shot might be too weak, shouted, “Take

aim, draw strong!” Never was surer aim taken, for Sir John pierced the

leopard’s heart, and saved the woman and her babe. In consideration of

this brave and skilful deed, the Giffards of Chillington adopted as

their crest a leopard’s head and an archer with a bent bow, with the

motto, “Take aim, draw strong.”

This is what many good and great men have done in regard to some

amusements, the influences of which have proved destructive to

character. To enjoy oneself is a divine right, provided such enjoyment

does not injure health, weaken morals or lead others to place a false

estimate on living.

AMUSEMENTS RIGHT AND WRONG.

Amusement is not an end, but a means of refreshing the mind and

replenishing the strength of the body, that the work of life may be

easier and better done. When it begins to be the principal thing for

which one lives, or when in pursuing it, the mental powers are

enfeebled, and health impaired, it then falls under just condemnation.

Amusements that consume the hours of the night which were intended for

rest and sleep, thus making one nervous, besides increasing one’s love

for romance and adventure, are wrong. Amusements which call one away

from study or duty are pernicious, just to the extent they cause

negligence or unfaithfulness. Amusements that rouse or stimulate morbid

appetites, suggest wrong things, cause one to be discontented, lead into

bad company or expenditure beyond one’s means, should always be avoided,

for their tendency is downward rather than upward.

Care must be taken in choosing amusements. Those should be chosen which

have some advantage beyond merely supplying a pleasant pastime, and

those avoided which lead to bad company, drinking, horse racing,

gambling or any place where so many are allured to destruction.

Multitudes of boys have gone down morally, socially, financially and

spiritually under their blasting influences, never to rise again. There

are few amusements so harmless, but what they may be carried into low

association and made an instrument of evil, hence every boy should look

to himself that no dishonesty, betting or over-exertion be allowed.

CARD PLAYING.

Don’t play cards. “Is it possible there is harm in cards?” you ask. “Is

it wrong to shuffle a few pieces of pictured and spotted papers in the

parlor?” No, my boy. But it is the harm which comes from them, with no

known excuse to palliate its pernicious consequences. Card playing has a

fascination connected with it. It seems as innocent a game as swinging

the mallet on a croquet lawn, but it is as dangerous as a revolver in

the hands of a child. It has dealt out death and destruction by the

wholesale. “It has made,” as Dr. Withrow said, “so many noble lives

base, upright people dishonest, rich people poor, poor people painfully

impoverished, and altogether it has a dark indictment against it in the

court of heaven.”

“THEY COST ME MY SON.”

On one of the railroads leading out of Chicago, four men, high in

position, one of them a judge, another a lawyer, sat passing the time

away with a game of euchre. An old lady across the aisle grew restless

and at last, standing and breaking in upon their somewhat selfish

hilarity, said: “Excuse me, but is not this Judge ——?” “Yes, ma’am,” the

man of the bench replied, a little startled and ashamed to acknowledge

it under the circumstances. The old lady continued, “I thought so, and,

Judge, it was you who sentenced my boy at Oshkosh, to State’s prison for

ten years, and it was that other man there that pleaded against him, and

he died last year, Judge, in the penitentiary, and it was cards that led

him to it. He was a good boy until he took to playing cards and going

down to the village grocery, and at last I could do nothing with him. I

know I ought not to be talking this way to you, but, Judge, if such as

you only knew how much the young people are influenced by what they see

you do, I don’t think you would be handling those cards as you and these

gentlemen are doing. They cost me my son.” So they have cost thousands

of parents their boys, and boys their manliness. They have been the

turnkey which has opened the prison gate, the trap-door of the gallows,

the instrument of many a suicide, and the decoy which has led many to

eternal ruin. Therefore don’t play cards.

THE THEATRE.

Don’t go to the theatre. “What? Is there anything wrong in going to a

theatre, and will it injure me?” Yes. It is a pleasure so dangerous in

its tendencies, that good men for ages have denounced it. Long ago,

Aristotle the philosopher opposed it, saying, “The seeing of comedians

ought to be forbidden to young people, until age and discipline have

made them proof against debauchery.” Theodore L. Cuyler said, “It

fascinates as the wine-cup fascinates, to draw young men into impure

associations, and to destroy everything like healthy spiritual life.”

Edwin Booth, who was one of the greatest tragedians, remarked, “I would

not be willing for my wife and daughter to attend a play unless I knew

beforehand the character of the play and the actors.” And, where a lady

cannot go, is it fit for a young gentleman? General Grant believed this,

for he said, “I never go where I cannot take ladies. I don’t care to go

where ladies cannot go.”

“OH! THAT THEATRE!”

“Oh! that theatre!” said an agonized mother of a felon son, “he was a

virtuous, kind youth till the theatre proved his ruin.” Professor

Knowles states that at a juvenile prison, it was ascertained that a

large proportion of the boys began their careers in vice by stealing

money to buy theatre tickets. A keeper of another juvenile prison in

Boston gave testimony that of twenty young men confined for crime,

seventeen confessed that they were first tempted to steal by a desire to

purchase tickets to visit the theatre. Of fifteen young men from the

country, employed in a publishing house in New York, thirteen within a

few years were led to destruction by the play-houses.

O, my boy, do as Bishop Vincent said when asked by a friend if he should

go to such a place of amusement, “Better not. Better not, because of its

fascination which hinders rather than helps; better not, because vice is

often made to look like virtue; better not, because of its many degraded

actors and patrons, whose company one cannot afford to keep; better not,

because of the hours it consumes which could be more profitably

utilized; better not, because of vulgar expressions frequently used;

better not, better not.”

THE DANCE.

Don’t go to the dance. “Why, the Bible itself defends this amusement,”

is frequently said. “Did not the Hebrews dance when they emerged from

the Red Sea? Did not David dance before the ark? Was not Socrates taught

it by Aspasia, and was it not held in veneration by Plato and other

philosophers?” Yes, but dancing, my boy, was much different in Bible

times than it is to-day. It was because of deliverances from or a

victory over an enemy. No case but one is found in the Bible where

promiscuous dancing was indulged in, and that is called “the wicked

dance.” Ever since the daughter of Herodias danced off the head of John

the Baptist, it has degenerated; and as Cicero addressed a grave

reproach to consul Gabinus for having danced, so would the writer sound

the danger trumpet with the words: “Beware! Beware!”

When Moscow was burning, the historian tells us, a party was dancing in

the palace right over a gunpowder magazine of which they were ignorant.

The flames came on, and Carnot said, “Let us have one dance more,” and

they shouted all through the palace, “One dance more!” The music played,

the feet bounded, the laughter rang. But suddenly, through the smoke and

fire and thunder of the explosion, death and eternity broke in. “One

dance more” has been the ruin of many a young man, the deathblow of many

a good reputation, the cause of many a jealousy which ended in crime and

the murderer of many a virtue which bid fair to distinguish the noble

youth.

BE CAREFUL.

O, my boy, be careful of your amusements. If there is a tendency to

injure the morals, shun them as a plague. Orange trees cannot live and

bear fruit in Labrador, neither can piety thrive amidst frivolities and

liberties which attack modesty of person and honesty of purpose. Shun

amusements if they are indulged in for mere killing of time.

“_Time is eternity,

Pregnant with all eternity can give,

Pregnant with all that makes archangels smile.

Who murders time, he crushes in the birth

A power ethereal, only not adorned!_”

Murillo, a Spanish painter, left a wonderful painting which represents a

monk in his cell writing. He had been engaged in writing his life, but

before he had completed it, death summoned him to the eternal world. He

pleaded to return, and the legend says that he was permitted a certain

period to complete his autobiography. The famous Spanish artist seized

the moment when the monk, seated at the table, resumes his toil. The

intensity of feeling thrown into the wan, ghastly face, and into the

lips which had talked with death, and into the eyes that had looked in

on eternity, and the tremendous energy with which he writes, all portray

to us the knowledge and the value of time: time limited by the

all-powerful command. And, as Schiller truthfully puts it:

“_The moments we forego

Eternity itself cannot retrieve._”

Shun amusements if they have a tendency to injure health. Health is the

greatest fortune one can possess. Without it, all joy, all comfort, all

pomp is but mockery. “Riches are useless, honor and attendants are

cumbersome, and crowns themselves are a burden,” “for life is not to

live, but to be well.” To take care of one’s health is one of the first

requirements of nature. This cannot be accomplished by staying up late

at night, by intemperate eating and drinking, by being out in all kinds

of weather, by wilful neglect of proper clothing, which various

amusements incur.

ENJOY YOURSELF.

Enjoy yourself, my boy. “To dry up the fountains of mirth that are

within, to crush out the spontaneous impulses of merriment which are a

part of our complete life, is a crime against nature. Life will have

sorrows enough without making ourselves chronically cheerless. The right

of enjoyment is a divine right, and should be lawfully used and enjoyed.

Not only that, but it is invigorating.” “All work and no play makes Jack

a dull boy.” Running is good exercise, the bat and ball strengthen the

arm and gauge the eye, the oar and boat broaden the chest and make the

liberated lungs beat with life, and not a few others, if not too greatly

indulged, prove helpful rather than detrimental.

Counsel yourself when invited to join in some pleasure: “What will this

amusement do for my physical development? Is there any gymnastic

exercise connected with it? What will it do for my intellectual

enlightenment? What will it do for the improvement of my morals? Will it

make me purer, nobler, better? Will it increase piety, make me more

useful to society, increase my happiness and benefit my associates?” If

it will, then indulge in it, if not, discard it.

A story is told of two men who were mowing in company. The one in

advance thought he saw a hornet’s nest just ahead, and he cautiously

paused. The other pooh-poohed his fears and mowed right on exclaiming,

“The wicked flee when no man pursueth, but the righteous are bold as a

lion.” But pretty soon he struck the nest and was fighting the hornets

that assailed him, whereupon the first, who also had a knack of quoting

proverbs, exclaimed, “The prudent man foreseeth the evil and hideth

himself, but the simple pass on and are punished.” The prudent man had

the best of it as he always does. Other gifts and attainments, however

ample and varied, are negatived and neutralized without it, therefore in

all pleasures be discreet.

“_It is sad

To think how few our pleasures really are;

And for the which we risk eternal good._”

And, as Pope wrote,

“_Pleasures, wrong or rightly understood,

Our greatest evil, or our greatest good._”

CHAPTER XVIII

Be Chary of Bad Books

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER XVIII

BY ANTHONY COMSTOCK

In the heart of every boy is a “Chamber of Imagery.” Practically

speaking, this is Memory’s storehouse, the “Commissary Department of

thought,” “the Hall of Entertainment.” Bad books, foul pictures and

criminal stories are used by the spirit of evil to decorate the walls of

this Chamber of Imagery. When once there comes through the doors of this

chamber (eye and ear) either one of these influences for evil, the looms

of Imagination and Fancy (the reimaging and reproductive faculties of

the mind) are started in motion and then the Chamber of Imagery becomes

the Hall of Entertainment. Charmed by pictures created by Imagination

and Fancy a boy soon becomes a day-dreamer and castle-builder. Led on by

these debasing allurements he soon develops into a full-fledged

criminal. Thoughts are the aliment upon which the mind feeds. If pure

and holy, they are like fertilizing currents flowing through the soul,

enriching, ennobling and beautifying character and life. If impure,

sensational and sensual, they are equally degrading, demoralizing and

deadly in their influence. It is as important that Imagination and Fancy

have pure material to work with, as that a stream shall originate in a

fountain free from deadly poison. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for

they shall see God.” The heart cannot be pure if the thoughts are

defiled.

[Illustration: Anthony Comstock]

CHAPTER XVIII

BE CHARY OF BAD BOOKS

It is only about four hundred years since the first book was issued from

the press. Between 1450 and 1455 Gutenberg, the inventor of the printing

press, succeeded in publishing the first copy of the Bible, but he was

compelled to make the initial letters of the chapters with the pen. As

the years passed, many improvements were made, until now, more than

twenty-five thousand books are published annually.

Books are wonderful things. They are companions and teachers. For their

authors they cost much thought, time and expense; for the reader they

are cheap and helpful. They carry the mind fast and safe the world over.

“In the twinkling of an eye one can be exploring with Livingstone in

Africa, or campaigning with Napoleon or Grant. One can meditate with

Socrates, conspire with Cataline, steal the Stratford deer with Will

Shakespeare, swim the Hellespont with Byron, weigh the earth with

Newton, and climb the heavens with Herschel.”

There being such an abundance of literary works, the question often

arises, “What should a boy read? Would it be wise to read everything

that comes into his hands?” By no means. To eat all kinds of food,

suitable or otherwise, would be sure to create disease. There are the

“scavengers” among animals, but there should not be such among readers.

To read everything would be most injurious. Good judgment should be

exercised in selecting the quality of books read and no less in the

quantity perused. There are books, which, if read, would poison thought,

corrupt morals and perchance blast the prospects of the future. On the

other hand, there are books which stimulate the mind, strengthen the

morals, comfort the heart and prepare the life for usefulness and

success.

GOOD BOOKS.

Good books are a blessing to everyone. The principles they inculcate,

the lessons they exhibit, the ideals of life and character they portray,

stamp themselves indelibly upon the mind and habits of the reader. “Give

a man a taste for good books and the means of gratifying it,” said Sir

John Herschel, “and you can hardly fail of making him a happy man. You

place him in contact with the best society in every period of history,

with the wisest, the wittiest, the tenderest, the bravest and the purest

characters who have adorned humanity. You make him a denizen of all

nations, a contemporary of all ages.” “A good book,” said Milton, “is

the precious life-blood of a master spirit embalmed and treasured up on

purpose to a life beyond life.” “In the best books,” said Dr. Channing,

“great men talk to us, with us, and give us their most precious

thoughts. Books are the voices of the distant and the dead. Books are

the true leaders, they give to all who will faithfully use them, the

society and the presence of the best and the greatest of our race. No

matter how poor I am, no matter though the prosperity of my own time

will not enter my obscure dwelling, if learned men and poets will enter

and take up their abode under my roof, if Milton will cross my threshold

to sing to me of Paradise, and Shakespeare open to me the world of

imagination and the workings of the human heart, and Franklin enrich me

with his practical wisdom, I shall not pine for want of intellectual

companionship, and I may become a cultivated man, though excluded from

what is called the best society in the place where I live.”

It was through reading Cotton Mather’s “Essays to Do Good” that Benjamin

Franklin when a boy was influenced to be good and do good. Said he, “If

I have been a useful citizen the public owes all the advantage of it to

this little book.” William Carey was induced to become a missionary to

India by reading “Cook’s Voyage Around the World.” Adoniram Judson

became a missionary to the East Indies by reading Buchanan’s “Star in

the East.” Richard Baxter became a Christian and minister by reading a

book called “The Bruised Reed,” given him by a man who was staying at

his father’s home. Baxter wrote “A Call to the Unconverted,” which

influenced the life of Philip Doddridge. Doddridge wrote, “The Rise and

Progress of Religion in the Soul,” which was the means of the conversion

of Wilberforce. Wilberforce in return secured the abolition of slavery

in the West Indies, and wrote “A Practical View of Christianity,” which

did much to commend spiritual religion to the higher classes of his

countrymen, and which led not only Dr. Chalmers into the truth, but

Leigh Richmond to Christ. Richmond wrote “The Dairyman’s Daughter,”

which has been published in a hundred languages and of which over five

million copies have been sold. All this resulted from “The Bruised

Reed,” written by an unknown Puritan minister named Sibbs.

Foreign readers of Lincoln’s Gettysburg speech and his second inaugural

address, asked, “Whence got this man his style, seeing he knows nothing

of literature?” In his boyhood Lincoln had access to four books, the

Bible, “Pilgrim’s Progress,” Burns’ Poems, and Weems’ “Life of

Washington.” He so memorized many of the chapters of the Bible that

subsequently he seldom made a speech at the bar or on the “stump” in

which he did not quote from it. The secret of his literary beauty and

ability was his knowledge of the English Bible and Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s

Progress,” two books which represent the rhythm, the idiom, the majesty,

and the power of the English language.

“All Sorts and Conditions of Men,” written by Sir Walter Besant, was the

means of the erection of a “People’s Palace” in East London. The

subtitle of the book was “An Impossible Story.” It presents the hard

life of the people of the crowded East End of London, and tells, in the

form of a novel, of the ideals and ambitions of a young mechanic who has

had a better education than his fellows, and used it for their

advantage. Through his efforts, as related in the book, a great central

building, a “People’s Palace,” is erected in the East End, where the

social life of the people can express itself; where they can study and

read, see fine paintings, hear good music, have their games and athletic

sports, and, in general, meet life on a higher plane than is possible in

their own unattractive homes. To-day that “Palace” stands as an evidence

of the dreamer’s dream in which and through which, the public gain

knowledge and recreation. Surely the influence of one good book is

marvellous.

BAD BOOKS.

Bad books are numerous. They force themselves upon us everywhere,

tempting by their cheapness, alluring by their colored illustrations,

and injuring by their teaching. Possibly, few agencies are working more

mental and moral havoc among boys than corrupt books. Once allow the

mind to be absorbed by their evil influence and the feelings and

passions are driven to and fro by the whirlwind of a purposeless life.

On one occasion a gentleman in India went into his library and took down

a book. As he did so, he felt a slight pain in one of his fingers. He

thought a pin had been stuck by some careless person in the cover of his

book. But soon the finger began to swell, then his arm and then his

whole body, and in a few days he died. On investigation it was found

that a small serpent had hidden itself among the books. If there is one

thing more than another that will poison the mind with the venom of

evil, it is impure literature, against which every boy should set his

heart like flint, whether it comes in the form of a daily newspaper, a

pictorial periodical or a book. It is as deadly as a serpent.

Fichte, the noted German philosopher, was once reading a

“blood-and-thunder” story, when, in the midst of it, he said: “Now this

will never do. I get too excited over it. I can’t study so well after,

so here goes,” and he flung the book into the river. That was a wise

act. Talmage states that the assassin of Sir William Russell declared he

got the inspiration of his crime by reading what was then a new and

popular novel, “Jack Sheppard.” Alexis Piron, the French poet and

satirist, sought for many years to obtain a seat among the Forty

Immortals in the French Academy. He was recognized among the poets of

his day, and was confident of his ultimate admission, when a vile ode,

written when he was a boy, was brought to light, and he knew that the

door of the Academy was forever closed in his face. “Twenty-five years

ago,” said Rev. John James, “a lad loaned me an infamous book. He would

loan it only for fifteen minutes and then I had to give it back, but

that book has haunted me like a spectre ever since. I have in agony of

soul, on my knees before God, prayed that He would obliterate the memory

of it, but I shall carry the damage of it until the day of my death.” “I

remember well when I was not more than twelve years of age,” said Dr.

Leonard, “that I was shown a book—a vile book—by a German shoemaker. He

came through the region of country where I lived, and the pictures that

were in that book are now in my mind to-night as clearly as when I first

looked upon them. Other pictures of beauty have faded, but somehow those

have remained; I have said I will turn that picture away from my memory

and won’t think of it again; yet, as often as I think of that German

shoemaker, that vile book stands out again before my mind.”

Not long ago, a young man in Indiana committed suicide. He ascribed his

downfall to the influence of “the vilest kind of novels. If good books

had been furnished me,” he said, “and no bad ones, I should have read

the good books with as great zest as I did the bad ones. Persuade all

persons over whom you have an influence not to read novels.” Such was

his parting message to his brother. “This is not self-murder. If thine

eye offend thee pluck it out. If thy life offend thee, give it back to

Him who gave it to thee. I ask that this cross be put on my breast in my

grave. Bury me in this holy robe.” Such was the letter of Master Grosse,

the nineteen-year-old son of an English clergyman, who committed suicide

after reading Marie Corelli’s “Mighty Atom.” This was the second death

by self-destruction caused by reading the book. In like manner not a few

have destroyed themselves through the false teaching of infidel books. O

the wretchedness, the misery, the sorrows that the reading of bad books

brings. Spurn them, for they are deadly things.

WHAT TO READ.

“What shall I read?” may be a question asked in this connection. Emerson

said: “Never read a book that is not a year old. Never read any but

famed books. Read only what you like, or, in Shakespeare’s famous

phrase:

‘_No profit goes where is no pleasure ta’en;

In brief, sir, study what you most affect._’”

The value of a book consists not in what it will do for one’s amusement,

but for one’s edification. Boys are generally more easily persuaded to

read fictitious books because there is something captivating about them.

Some had better not be read, while others which are amusing may be

helpful. Abbot’s Histories, Scribner’s “Library of Wonder,” and “Library

of Travel,” “Aesop’s Fables,” “Robinson Crusoe,” “Peasant and Prince,”

“The Tale of Two Brothers,” “Paul and Virginia,” “The Vicar of

Wakefield,” Scott’s “Tales of a Grandfather,” the Indian tales of

Fenimore Cooper, the fascinating character stories of Dickens, and many

others, are all suitable to read. They will stimulate the fancy, enlarge

the sympathies and improve the taste.

There are biographies of great and noble men. They will arouse the

spirit, instruct the mind and influence the life. “The good life,” says

George Herbert, “is never out of season.” Every boy should read such

lives as Washington, Lincoln, Grant, and the lives of great statesmen,

lawyers, poets and ministers.

Nothing will give a clearer insight of the past with its events and

characters, manners and law, trades and industries, modes of government

and conditions of people than history. A few good histories like

Thalheimer’s “Manual of Ancient History,” Macaulay’s “History of the

World,” Gibbon’s magnificent drama of the “Decline and Fall of the Roman

Empire,” and Ridpath’s “History of the United States,” bring all the

world with its pleasures and sufferings and everything inspired with

living reality before us.

Then there is poetry. The world’s highest wisdom, its profoundest truths

and its best philosophy appear in poetic language. Leigh Hunt said, “It

is the breath of beauty, flowing around the spiritual world, as the

winds that wake up the flowers do about the material.” Plato asserts

that “poetry comes nearer the vital truth than history.” Scarcely do we

find a volume of impure stanzas. “Only that is poetry which cleanses and

mans me,” wrote Emerson. Milton is said to have regarded himself as

inspired in the conception and production of “Paradise Lost” and

“Paradise Regained.” The poet Cowper was a man with consecrated heart.

His epitaph reads: “His virtues formed the magic of his song.”

Wordsworth’s poems are medicine. Bryant interprets nature in her

loftiest thoughts and feelings. Longfellow speaks for the holiest

affections. Whittier sounds the bugle charges against every wrong,

waking the memory of happy olden days with their attendant, familiar

faces. Holmes bubbles over with humor and laughter. All these and many

more become our best friends and teachers. There is also the

philosophical, which every boy should grapple—Locke’s “Human

Understanding,” Porter’s “Intellectual Science,” and Haven’s “Ancient

and Modern Philosophy.” Grapple with scientific books, such as Hugh

Miller’s Geology, Johnson’s “Chemistry of Common Life.” In fact, in the

language of Tulloch, “Whether you read history or poetry, science or

theology, or even fiction of a worthy kind, it will prove a mental

discipline and bring increase of wisdom.”

HOW SHALL I READ?

“Read not,” says Bacon, “to contradict and confront, nor to believe and

take for granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and

consider.” Carlyle expressed the same thought when he said, “Pursue your

studies in the way your conscience calls honest. More and more endeavor

to do that.” Read with care, not with a half-mechanical glancing over

the pages as we would look over a map or listen to the instructor while

the mind is playing hide-and-seek with floating daydreams. Read with

regularity. Have a definite time if possible, when no one will be likely

to obtrude. Select some line of knowledge both interesting and useful,

and read with the intention of acquiring a thorough understanding of it.

When finishing a chapter, take a mental review and if not able to give

an outline of it, read it over again. By so doing, one cultivates a

retentive memory. Should anything of importance present itself,

underline it. Sir William Hamilton underscored. Cardinal Newman wrote in

the margin of his books a statement of his own views upon the paragraph

he read. Gladstone always read with pencil in hand, marking on the

margin those passages he wished to remember, questioning those about

which he was in doubt, and putting a cross opposite those he disputed.

In reading, use a dictionary to aid in pronouncing and defining large or

unknown words. If possible, read aloud. It aids enunciation and leads to

a mastery of inflection. Above all, make it your business, my boy, to

extract the honey from what you read. Read for mental sustenance. Read

so as to know how to live, speak and act, or read not at all.

An old pilot was once asked if he knew where all the rocks were along

the line of travel. There is a world of wisdom in his answer: “I do not

need to know where all the rocks are; it is enough for me to know where

the rocks are not, and keep in the free channel.” By reading good books

one avoids those dangers to morals which lurk in so much of the

literature of the day. By it, he becomes wiser, happier, nobler,

esteeming the words and thoughts of those whose presence may never more

be appreciated by mortal man. Though dead, they yet speak.

CHAPTER XIX

Be Attentive to Details

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER XIX

BY LYMAN J. GAGE

It has often been said that, if a man conceives the idea of becoming

eminent in learning, and cannot toil through the million little

drudgeries necessary to carry him on, his learning will soon be told.

Or, if he undertakes to become rich, but despises the small and gradual

advances by which wealth is ordinarily accumulated, his expectations

will, of course, be the sum of riches.

All successful men have been remarkable, not only for general scope and

vigor, but for their minute attention to details. Attention to details

has for its result a “hitting of the mark,” a realization of our aims.

Hap-hazard methods result in confusion, disorder and defeat.

[Illustration: Truly Yours, Lyman J Gage]

CHAPTER XIX

BE ATTENTIVE TO DETAILS

To be successful a boy needs, as Arthur Helps said, “an almost

ignominious love of detail.” To dream is not sufficient, he must learn

to do, and in doing pay special attention to every part. A judge in

Cincinnati wanted a rough fence built. When the carpenter came he said

to him, “I want this fence mended. There are some unplaned boards, use

them. It is out of sight from the house, so you need not take time to

make a neat job. I can only pay you a dollar and a half.” On looking at

it later the judge found the boards planed and the work finished with

excellent neatness. The judge, thinking the young man had done it that

he might claim more pay, said somewhat angrily, “I told you this fence

was to be covered with vines. I do not care how it looks.” “I do,” said

the carpenter. “How much do you charge?” asked the judge. “A dollar and

a half,” said the man. “Why did you spend all that labor on it, if not

for the money?” “For the job, sir.” “Nobody would have seen the poor

work on it.” “But I should have known it was there, sir. No, I’ll only

take the dollar and a half,” and he went his way. Ten years later this

carpenter was the successful competitor for a great contract the judge

had to give, successful among a crowd of others seeking it. “I knew,”

said the judge, telling the story afterwards, “we should have only good,

genuine work from him; I gave him the contract, and it made a rich man

of him.”

WHAT YOU DO, DO WELL.

Whatever is worth engaging one’s interest and energies is worth doing

well. Longworth remarked, “I have always had two things before me. Do

what you undertake thoroughly. Be faithful in all accepted trusts.”

William Grey, the celebrated Boston merchant, once censured a mechanic

for some slovenly work, whereupon the latter, who had known Mr. Grey as

a drummer in a regiment, slurred him for it. “And so I was,” replied Mr.

Grey, “so I was. But, didn’t I drum well?” During a debate in Congress

some years ago, a member of aristocratic birth replying to an opponent

said, “When we were boys, he used to black my boots.” “And didn’t I

black them well?” asked the other. “Yes, I must say in justice to the

gentleman that he was called the best bootblack in town.” “Thank you,

and let me add that is why I am here. I always tried to do as well as I

could. If the member from ——, who taunts me with my lowly origin, had

begun life as a bootblack, I fear that he would have been a bootblack

still.”

It is said that the late Josiah Quincy was at one time conversing with

Daniel Webster upon the importance of doing even the smallest things

thoroughly and well, when the great man related an incident concerning a

petty insurance case which was brought to him while a young lawyer. The

fee promised was only twenty dollars, yet to do his client full justice,

Webster found he must journey to Boston and consult the law library.

This involved an expense of about the same amount as his fee; but after

hesitating a little, he decided to go to Boston and consult the

authorities, let the cost be what it might. He gained the case. Years

after this, Webster was passing through the city of New York. An

important insurance case was to be tried that day, and one of the

counsel had been suddenly prostrated by illness. Money was no object,

and Webster was asked to name his terms and conduct the case. “It is

preposterous,” he said, “to expect me to prepare a legal argument at a

few hours’ notice.” But when they insisted that he should look at the

papers he consented. It was his old, twenty-dollar case over again, and

having a remarkable memory, he had all the authorities in his mind, and

he took the case and won it. The court knew he had had no time for

preparation, and was astonished at the skill with which he handled the

case. “So, you see,” said Webster, as he concluded, “I was handsomely

paid, both in fame and money, for that journey to Boston.”

To do well anything that is to be done is a test of power, a proof of

efficiency, a criterion of character and a sure way to promotion. Just

as the usefulness and value of a stamp depends on its ability to stick,

so concentration of interest and effort is the boy’s only secret of

success. A burning glass becomes powerful only when focalized on one

object, and a boy becomes master of the situation only when he bends

mind and body to each detail, never yielding to doubt or discouragement.

LITTLES PRODUCE MUCH.

Great achievements, massive structures, successful inventions are

composed of little things. The steam engine is a wonderful machine, but

it consists of more than six thousand pieces of metal. The huge “chalk

cliffs of Albion” were built by insects so small as to be only seen with

the help of the microscope. The book we admire is made up of individual

letters. The river is formed of many rivulets, and life consists not in

great but numerous little things. A great man once wore a coat of arms

which told the secret of his success. It was a mountain at whose base

was a workman with coat off and a pickaxe in his hand, with which he was

picking at the mountain. His motto was: “Little by little.” The

importance of little things is the only criterion of admission to larger

ones. Webster’s famous reply to Hayne was made up largely of little

reserves which he had picked up here and there in his reading, from

studying men, and from observation. “Great, without small, makes a bad

wall,” says a Greek proverb. Ammi the Arabian said to his son, “Bring me

the fruit of that tree.” Then he said, “Break it open: what do you see?”

“Some seeds,” the boy replied. “Break one open; what do you see?”

“Nothing,” he answered. “Where you see nothing,” said his father, “there

dwells a mighty tree.” It’s the little things that make up character and

prepare one’s destiny.

NEGLECT OF LITTLE THINGS.

“Neglect of little things,” said Samuel Smiles, “has ruined many

fortunes and marred the best of enterprises.” What may be of “little

consequence” may prove to be disastrous. The ship which bore homeward

the merchant’s treasure was lost because it was allowed to leave the

port from which it sailed with a very little hole in the bottom. “For

want of a nail, the shoe of the aide-de-camp’s horse was lost; for want

of the shoe, the horse was lost; for want of the horse, the aide-de-camp

was lost; for the enemy took and killed him; and for the want of the

aide-de-camp’s intelligence, the army of his general was lost; all

because a little nail had not been properly fixed in the horse’s shoe!”

When Conova was about to commence his famous statue of the great

Napoleon he detected a tiny red line running through the upper portion

of the splendid block that at great cost had been brought from Paros.

What did he do? Work on it? No, he refused to lay a chisel upon it. In

the early struggles of the elder Herschel, while working out the problem

of gigantic telescopic specula, he made scores upon scores before he got

one to satisfy him. On that one he found a scratch like a spider thread

which caused him to reject it, although he had spent weeks of toil upon

it.

LITTLE THINGS.

Moments are little things, yet upon them much of the future depends.

Important affairs, well laid plans, fortunes and comforts are frequently

sacrificed by negligence of the moments. Lord Chesterfield, writing to

his son, said, “Every moment you now lose, is so much character and

advantage lost, as on the other hand, every moment you now employ

usefully, is so much time wisely laid out, at prodigious interest.”

Henry Martyn won the honorable distinction of “the man who never wasted

an hour;” while the famous remark of Horace Mann, was, “Lost, yesterday,

somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with

sixty diamond minutes. No reward offered, for they are gone forever.”

A condemned man was being led to execution. He had taken the life of

another under circumstances of the greatest provocation, and public

sympathy was active in his behalf. Thousands had signed petitions for a

reprieve, a favorable answer had been expected the night before, and

though it had not come, even the sheriff felt confident that it would

arrive in season. Thus the morning passed without the appearance of the

messenger. The last moment was up. The prisoner took his place on the

drop, the cap was drawn over his eyes, the bolt was drawn, and a

lifeless body swung revolving in the wind. Just at that moment a

horseman came into sight, galloping down hill, his steed covered with

foam. He carried a packet in his right hand, which he waved frantically

to the crowd. He was the express rider with the reprieve. But he had

come too late. A comparatively innocent man had died an ignominious

death because a watch had been five minutes too slow, making its bearer

behind time.

LITTLE WORDS.

The alphabet is composed of letters. Letters constitute words, and words

framed into sentences constitute books. Because a word is small it does

not follow it is not important. Several of the smallest in the English

language are the most important. Should a lawyer in making a deed omit

some little words he might involve his client in litigation and perhaps

subject him to the loss of his property. Two smaller, yet greater, words

are not used than “yes” and “no.” They are decisive and conclusive, and

as such every boy should learn to use them correctly. They are the words

of courage, moral and physical; they are chivalric, knightly words. On

occasions of supreme moment, when destiny awaits decision, they expand

to sublime proportions. “Yes” to the right, “no” to the wrong.

Of all words hard to say, doubtless “no” is the hardest. Of William

McKinley, Henry B. F. Macfarland wrote, “He could say no, as positively

as he could say it pleasantly.” Some one wrote of a boy who had stamina

enough to say “no” when necessary:

“_Somebody asked me to take a drink.

What did I tell him? What do you think?

I told him, ‘No!’_

_Somebody asked me one day to play

A game of cards; and what did I say?

I told him, ‘No!’_

_Somebody laughs that I will not swear

And lie and steal, but I do not care.

I told him, ‘No!’_

_Somebody asked me to take a sail

On the Sabbath day; ’twas of no avail.

I told him, ‘No!’_

_‘If sinners entice thee, consent thou not,’

My Bible said; and so on the spot

I told him, ‘No!’_”

LITTLE PENNIES.

A penny may not count for much, but one hundred make a dollar, and a

dollar saved is a dollar made. Too many young men of the day imagine

they cannot be manly without spending freely what they make. Careful

saving and careful spending promote success, for “wilful waste makes

woful want.” John Jacob Astor said that the saving of the first thousand

dollars cost him the hardest struggle. “It is not,” wrote Philip Armour,

“what a man earns but what he saves that makes him rich. I deem it of

the highest importance to impress upon every young man the duty of

beginning to save from the moment he commences to earn, be it ever so

little. A habit so formed in early life will prove of incalculable

benefit to him in after years, not only in the amount acquired, but

through the exercise of economy in small affairs he will grow in

knowledge and fitness for larger duties that may devolve upon him.” “My

advice,” said Enoch Pratt, the Baltimore millionaire and founder of the

Institute that bears his name, “to a young man just starting in life, is

to take good care of your health, shun all bad habits, and save at least

$1 out of every $5 you earn and immediately get that $1 out at interest.

Few people have any idea of the rapidity with which money at interest

grows, and there is no better, safer way to get it out at interest than

to buy some small piece of real estate that is improved and pays rent

sufficient to yield a surplus that will pay the taxes; the interest on

the mortgage you will have to give and something on the principal each

year.”

“_Know when to spend and when to spare,

And when to buy, and thou shalt ne’er be bare._”

LITTLE ACTS.

When the air balloon was first invented, someone asked Franklin what was

the use of it. He replied by asking another question: “What is the use

of a new-born infant?” “It may become a man,” was the significant reply.

So little acts may lead to great results, opening the door of

opportunities to greater achievements. Baron James de Rothschild once

posed as a beggar for Ary Scheffer. While the great financier, attired

in the rags of a beggar, was in his place on the estrade, a

correspondent of a French paper entered the studio. The Baron was so

perfectly disguised that he was not recognized, and, believing that a

veritable beggar was before him, the newspaper man slipped a louis into

his hand. The pictured model took the coin and put it into his pocket.

Ten years later the correspondent received at his residence an order on

the office in the Rue Lafitte for ten thousand francs, enclosed in the

following letter:

_Sir_:

_One day you gave a louis to Baron Rothschild in the studio of Ary

Scheffer. He has employed it, and to-day sends you the little capital

with which you entrusted him, together with its interest. A good

action always brings good fortune._

BARON JAMES DE ROTHSCHILD.

My boy, the motto of this rich man is certainly true. One cannot show

the smallest kindness, render the smallest assistance, attend to the

smallest detail without profit to himself and to others. “I discovered

the principle by the merest accident,” said Edison to a friend who asked

him how he discovered the phonograph. “I was singing to the mouthpiece

of a telephone, when the vibrations of the voice sent the fine steel

point into my finger. That set me to thinking. If I could record the

actions of the point and send the point over the same surface afterward,

I saw no reason why the thing would not talk. I tried the experiment

first on a strip of telegraph paper, and found that the point made an

alphabet. I shouted the word ‘Halloa!’ and ‘Halloa!’ came in return. I

determined to make a machine that would work accurately. That’s the

whole story. The phonograph is the result of the pricking of a finger.”

While this may seem very simple, my boy, do not overlook the fact that

Mr. Edison discovered it by paying attention to little things. “Is it

not the little things,” asks William Matthews, “that, in the aggregate,

make up whatever is great? Is it not the countless grains of sand that

make the beach, the trees that form the forest, the successive strata of

rock that compose the mountains, the myriads of almost imperceptible

stars that whiten the heavens with the Milky Way? And of what is human

happiness made up, but of little things?” Of General Thomas it was said:

“He was careful in all the details of a battle.” So in home duties,

school work, business interests, yea, in everything you have to do, do

well. Resolve—

“_If any little words of mine

May make a life the brighter,

If any little song of mine

May make a heart the lighter—

God help me speak the little word,

And take my bit of singing,

And drop it in some lonely vale,

To set the echoes ringing!_

“_If any little love of mine

May make a life the sweeter,

If any little care of mine

May make a friend’s the fleeter,

If any little lift may ease

The burden of another,

God give me love, and care, and strength,

To help my toiling brother._”

CHAPTER XX

Be Patriotic

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER XX

BY JOHN CLARK RIDPATH

Patriotism is the first and best of the civic virtues. It involves more

than any of the rest. It involves country, race, nation, kindred,

institutions, associations, fellowships, the kindest of all that man

creates and the best of all he hopes in this life.

Patriotism is broad, almost universal. It is not a mere local attachment

that knows some particular place or section, some country or State, some

North or South, some peculiar ancestral stock, but rather our whole

country, our native land to its remotest border, our nation, great as

native land, our Union over all and our flag as our emblem.

Patriotism claims no mountain slope, no river bank, no range of hills,

no village or town or city, but rather lifts the eye to a great

continent, reclaimed from barbarism and illumined with the light of a

Christian civilization. He who cherishes such a patriotism in his heart

and feels its inspiration in the battle of life will have little cause

to fear the onset or doubt the certain victory.

[Illustration: John Clark Ridpath.]

CHAPTER XX

BE PATRIOTIC

For centuries nations have employed patriotic songs to inspire courage

and love of country. France has long sung her “Marseillaise,” Norway the

“Song of the Battle Axe,” England, “God Save the King,” but the best of

all is our national hymn:

“_My country, ’tis of thee,

Sweet land of liberty,

Of thee I sing.

Land where my fathers died,

Land of the pilgrim’s pride;

From every mountain side

Let freedom ring._”

The United States is a name, a synonym for greatness, richness and

beauty. Precious memories are clustered about it. Great names are

associated with it. Its praise is eulogized in lyric song, applauded in

legislative halls, inscribed on gorgeous banners, lisped by juvenile

tongues and honored by all nations.

In the year 1820 Sydney Smith, of England, asked the famous questions,

“In the four quarters of the globe who reads an American book? or looks

at an American picture, or statue? What new constellations have been

discovered by the telescopes of Americans? What have they done in

mathematics? Who drinks out of American glasses? or eats from American

plates? or wears American coats or gowns? or sleeps in American

blankets?” If Sydney Smith had lived a half-century longer he would have

found the food-stuffs, clothing, literature, inventions, gold and

influence of “this self-adulating race,” controlling the markets of the

world more than any other. America has invaded the business centres of

every nation, has set a pace in civilization and evangelization that few

can maintain, has become a peace factor among the warlike people of all

continents and in most everything, as Herbert Spencer said of our

mechanical appliances, is “ahead of all nations.”

SIZE AND BEAUTY OF THE UNITED STATES.

The United States is more than three times the size of Great Britain and

Ireland, France and Germany, Italy and Austria, Spain and Portugal,

Switzerland, Denmark and Greece. Though among the youngest of the family

of nations, its territorial area exceeds that of Rome when its empire

was mightiest. Although its population is less than that of some smaller

countries, it has an area of land more than a dozen times as large, and

in the coming future the “Bad Lands” of the Dakotas, and the great

“Columbian Plains” of Washington will be adorned with towns and cities,

and what are now barren places will be changed into veritable Edens.

The United States is not only the largest, but it is the most beautiful

and richest country of the world. Its mountain peaks crowned with

ice-jewels are as beautiful as those of Switzerland. Its valleys are not

exceeded by the valley of the Nile. Its shores equal India’s coral

strand. Its towering hills are stored with an abundance of iron and

copper, enough to supply the nations of the globe. Its prairies are the

granaries of the world. Its bowels are full of oil that seems

inexhaustible, and its coal, silver and gold mines are of inestimable

value. The inscription once drilled in the rock on the shore of Monument

Bay is now becoming a fact because of these many things:

“_The Eastern nations sink, their glory ends,

An empire rises where the sun descends._”

The United States stands unique in the history of civil governments and

has illustrated more than any other constitutional freedom in all its

beneficence, power and grandeur. “Nowhere else has government so

ennobled man, so elevated woman, so inspired its young men with heroism

and ambition, so helped them in their aims in life, so made citizenship

glorious by the expansion of Christian morality and intelligence, so

fostered letters, the arts and sciences, so protected every creed, so

smoothed the road of life and given to all an equal chance for happiness

and homes.” For the first time in human annals it has by right-doing and

patriotic endeavor demonstrated that freedom, intelligence and

Christianity, are of God, and forever blest by God.

WHAT IS PATRIOTISM?

Many men as well as boys imagine that patriotism means fighting. _This

is not so._ “A patriot is a person who loves his land, honors its

history, applauds its achievements, does not minimize its motives, but

says, my heart and hand for its prosperity and perpetuity, upholding and

upbuilding.” To cultivate this spirit every boy needs to read and study

the history of this nation, follow the Pilgrims across the briny

Atlantic, associate with them and their descendants in their hardships,

fight with them in their battles, share with them in their victories,

and then will he be thoroughly imbued with this spirit.

BOY HEROES OF THE REVOLUTION AND REBELLION.

In an old-fashioned farmhouse near the village of Shoreham, which was

opposite Fort Ticonderoga, lived a farmer and his son by the name of

Beman. It was in the days when the fathers of their country rebelled

against English tyranny. Paul Revere had ridden with all speed to

Lexington. Sixteen patriots had been killed or wounded by the first

volley of the soldiers under Pitcairn. The news aroused the country.

Notable men leaped to the front to do battle wherever they could, and

amongst these were Farmer Beman and his boy. It was in the month of May,

1775, that Ethan Allen at the head of the famous Green Mountaineers came

up through the forests to surprise and capture the fort and its garrison

known as Ticonderoga. The expedition with which Benedict Arnold was

connected was composed of three divisions, one of which was to capture

some boats at Skenesborough and send them down the lake to Allen and his

men, who were to get them at Shoreham. When the renowned Green Mountain

leader reached the little village during the night not a single boat had

arrived. This was a bitter disappointment, for Allen had but

eighty-three men with him and his position was one of great hazard. It

looked like madness to assail with his small force so armed a place as

Ticonderoga, yet it was still more dangerous to remain idle. “We can’t

wait for the boats, my boys!” exclaimed the intrepid Allen, “we must

assault the fortress.” In looking for a guide the Vermonter found Farmer

Beman, who said as soon as he understood their mission: “Why not take my

boy? Nathan knows all about the fort. He’s been all over it with the

boys whose fathers compose the garrison. He knows the location of every

rat-hole, inside and out.” The suggestion delighted Allen, and Nathan

was called and questioned. “I’ll go, sir,” he said at once. “I know the

way to Delaplace’s quarters, too, if you should want to find him.”

Delaplace was the commandant, and of course the very person whom Allen

wanted. The little party crossed the lake in such boats as they had at

hand. Morning was near and every moment had to be put to use. When the

patriots reached the opposite shore the commander turned to the young

lad and, laying his hand upon his shoulder, said quickly: “We are ready

now. Show us the way to the sally port.” Guided by him, the mountaineers

moved toward the fort, and, coming suddenly upon a sentry, heard the

snapping of the fuse-lock and saw him run through a covered way within

the walls. “Quick,” cried the boy, looking up at Allen, and the soldiers

sprang after the guard and made their way to the parade ground

unopposed. The enthusiasm of the patriots now broke forth into shouts of

victory, which, reaching the ears of the British soldiers, caused them

to spring from their pallets and rush from the barracks, only to be made

prisoners as they appeared. Never was a surprise more complete; thanks

to Nathan Beman. When Allen had secured most of the garrison he asked

the boy to show the way to the commander’s room, and the two were soon

running up the steps leading to it.

Bang! bang! went Allen’s sword against the colonel’s door, and the

British officer hurried out of bed to answer the command, “Surrender

this fort instantly.” “By what authority?” inquired the astonished

officer. “In the name of the great Jehovah and the Continental

Congress!” said Allen, flourishing his sword. It so happened that Allen

and Delaplace were old acquaintances, and the reader can imagine the

latter’s astonishment when he saw who was hammering at the door. Of

course there was nothing to do but surrender. The garrison, numbering

forty-eight, were made prisoners and sent to Connecticut. A fortress

which had cost Great Britain a vast amount was captured in ten minutes

by a company of undisciplined provincials. By this daring exploit a

hundred cannons and great quantities of military stores fell into the

hands of the Americans. Amid the general rejoicings that followed this

exploit the part played by Nathan Beman was not forgotten. His name was

on every tongue, and his services were rewarded liberally. “He lived,”

said Lossing the historian, “to see our confederacy increase from

thirteen to thirty stars,” and died at the good age of eighty-nine

years.

YOUNG HOWE.

When the call for volunteers was made during the Civil War, two boys,

twelve and fourteen years respectively, presented themselves and desired

positions as drummer boys. “Our infant drummers,” as General Sherman

called them, attracted much attention on dress parade in the great camps

of instruction. The little Howes drummed well, proved hardy, never

seemed homesick, and passed through battle after battle, and march after

march, untouched by disease, unscathed by bullet or shell. In the charge

of May 19th the younger of the two, like other musicians, with a white

handkerchief tied about the left arm to designate him as a

non-combatant, followed in the rear of the line to assist the wounded.

At the advanced position finally held by the regiment, it was essential

not to allow any cessation in the firing, and the cartridge boxes became

rapidly depleted. Ammunition, from the difficulties of the ground, could

only be brought to the Union men by special messengers and in such

quantity as they were able to carry about their person. Sergeant-Major

Hartsook was instructed to go back to the regimental ordnance wagon,

take command of the musicians and such other men as he might find

detailed near the camp, and send them to the front one by one with

cartridges. This dangerous duty was promptly and well performed.

The little drummer, by his own statement, was not at this time with the

other musicians, but in the ravine just in the rear of the regiment,

having been ordered back from the front to be out of danger, by the

colonel. About him were several dead and wounded men. Collecting the

ammunition from their cartridge boxes, and using his blouse for a sack,

he carried this up to the command. Flattered with much praise then

received, he started for the ordnance wagon and returned in safety, with

his small but valuable contribution. Again he sped down and across the

ravine and up the steep opposite slope, while a hail-storm of canister

and musket balls fell around him. Suddenly he dropped, and hearts sank,

thinking his brief career ended; but he had only tripped over some

obstacle. Often he stumbled, sometimes he fell prostrate, but was

quickly up again, and finally disappeared limping, over the summit, and

the Fifty-fifth saw him no more for several months. As the boy sped away

the last time, the colonel shouted to him: “Bring calibre fifty-four.”

General Sherman’s letter to the War Department will tell the rest of the

story.

_Headquarters Fifteenth Army Corps,

Camp on Big Black, Aug. 8th, 1863._

_Hon. E. M. Stanton, Secretary of War,_

_Sir:_

_I take the liberty of asking through you that something be done for a

young lad named Orion P. Howe, of Waukegan, Illinois, who belongs to

the 55th Illinois, but is at present from home, wounded. I think he is

too young for West Point, but would be the very thing for a

midshipman._

_When the assault at Vicksburg was at its height, on the 19th of May,

and I was in front near the road which formed my line of attack, this

young man came up to me wounded and bleeding, with a good, healthy

boy’s cry: “General Sherman, send some cartridges to Colonel Malmborg,

the men are all out.” “What is the matter, my boy?” “They shot me in

the leg, sir, but I can go to the hospital. Send the cartridges right

away.” Even where we stood the shot fell thick, and I told him to go

to the rear at once, I would attend to the cartridges, and off he

limped. Just before he disappeared on the hill, he turned and called

to me as loud as he could: “Calibre 54.”_

_I have not seen the boy since, and his colonel gave me his address as

above, and says he is a bright, intelligent boy, with a fair

preliminary education. What arrested my attention there, was, and what

renews my memory now, is, that one so young, carrying a musket-ball

wound through his leg, should have found his way to me on that fatal

spot, and delivered his message, not forgetting the very important

part even of the calibre of the musket, 54, which you know is an

unusual one. I’ll warrant the boy has in him the elements of a man,

and I commend him to the government as one worthy the fostering care

of some of its national institutions._

_I am, with respect, your obedient servant_,

W. T. SHERMAN,

_Major-General Commanding_.

BE PATRIOTIC.

It may be, my boy, that you will never be able to guide a regiment of

soldiers as did Nathan Beman, or carry cartridges as did young Howe, but

that is no reason why you should not be just as patriotic. That boy who

is law abiding, who opposes everything that tends to undermine the

national fabric, who decries Sabbath desecration, vile language, bad

literature, and all vices, is a patriot in the true sense of the word,

and can be relied upon in times of peace as well as war to do his best

for the country.

Be patriotic. Cultivate the spirit of admiration toward the national

flag. Dowered with priceless traditions its stars and stripes speak of

the sufferings of the past, the prosperity of the present, and the

glories of the future which shall attend the onward march of this great

Republic. It is the hallowed emblem of the world’s greatest nation, and

of its most resplendent civilization. Of Sherman it was said that he

never failed to salute the flag by taking off his hat in its presence.

That flag is the emblem of all we are and all we expect to be.

“_It floats that all the rights of men may every people bless

And God’s own kingdom walk the world in peace and righteousness._”

Be patriotic. Study the questions that have a bearing upon the

well-being of the people. In the past hundred years, more than

twenty-three million foreigners have settled in this land. Many are

God-fearing men, but many more are entirely out of harmony with our

principles and institutions. Truly America is

“_The mother with the ever open door,

The feet of many nations on her floor,

And room for all the world about her knees._”

Of the seventy million inhabitants twenty-five per cent. are yet in

gross ignorance, thirteen per cent. cannot read the ballots they cast,

and thousands of such are annually coming to our shores, imbued with the

notions, failings and vices of their native lands. True patriotism

desires and labors not only for a free people, but an educated one.

To be patriotic requires candor. We must be fair in our judgment of

others who may differ from us concerning methods of dealing with some

vital questions which are always before the nation. We do not always see

and understand alike, but we must strive to promote and preserve the

integrity of the nation. In the opening hours of the French Revolution

Mirabeau roused the rabble of Paris, which whirled the social order into

chaos, provoking Madame Roland’s dying words, “Oh, liberty, what crimes

are done in thy name!” We have Mirabeaus here, but as educated lovers of

our country, we must antagonize wrong, uphold right, and defend the

principles of the Declaration of Independence.

To be patriotic in the true sense is to permeate every question with

Christianity. It was religious liberty that became the mother of

political liberty in England. De Toqueville said, “America’s liberty

considers Christianity the guardian angel of her struggle and victory,

the cradle of her life, the Divine source of her right.” “God and my

country” is the true patriot’s cry. In the words of the almost forgotten

Oliver Ellsworth to the Grand Jury of Savannah in 1779, “Let us rear an

empire sacred to the rights of men; and commend a government of reason

to the nations of the earth.”

PART III

Relation to God

CHAPTER XXI

Be a Christian

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER XXI

BY SAMUEL FALLOWS

“Early let _me_ seek Thy favor;

Early let _me_ do Thy will;

Blessed Lord, and only Savior,

With Thy love _my_ bosom fill;

Blessed Jesus,

Thou hast loved _me_, love _me_ still.”

What is it to be a Christian? It is to be born again. What is it to be

born again? The New Testament gives the answer. He that “believeth that

Jesus is the Son of God is born of Him.” (1 John 5:1). He “that loveth

is born of God.” (1 John 4:7). He “that doeth righteousness is born of

Him.” (1 John 2:29).

Faith, love righteousness and trust in Christ, love for Christ, right

deeds through this faith and love in every sphere of life, deeds of

justice, of mercy, of goodness, of purity, of charity for the welfare of

his fellowmen,—these make a Christian.

Be such a Christian, my boy. Be a trusting, brave, noble, strong,

gentle, pure, loving and self-sacrificing follower of Jesus Christ.

[Illustration: Samuel Fallows]

CHAPTER XXI

BE A CHRISTIAN

Having fairly embarked on the voyage which ceases not till the port of

eternity is reached, it is an exhibition of good seamanship to take

one’s bearings. By the log is estimated the progress of the vessel; by

the compass, the direction the ship is pursuing, and by the altitude of

the stars the latitude in which it is. In like manner the Moral chapters

indicate the progress boys should make; the Social, the course they

should take, and the Religious, the latitude in which they should live.

Of these the religious are the most essential, for a boy cannot be truly

religious without being moral and social.

When the Rebellion began a young man went to his mother and said:

“Mother, may I volunteer? I argue the matter in four plain ways. First,

my country needs me. Second, she calls me. Third, I am able to go.

Fourth, I am willing. This makes the duty very clear to me, unless you

interpose a veto, and I think you are too good a patriot to do that.”

She gave her consent, and before he departed, she said: “You know, my

son, how much I have wished to see you a Christian. Now I want you to

look at the claims of Jesus exactly as you have looked at those of your

country, simply and honestly, and see if those same four plain

propositions will not lead you into the service of heaven.” “I’ll think

of it, mother,” was his answer, and they parted. He did not forget his

promise. On his first Sabbath in camp he resolutely set himself to the

fulfilment of his mother’s request. Remembering how he had argued duty

to his country, he brought before his mind in the same manner the

subject of the divine claims upon his heart and life. “Does Jesus want

me? Does He call me? Am I able to serve Him? Am I willing?” With an open

Bible, the first three questions were quickly answered. At the last one

he hesitated, but duty seemed so clear that he dared not falter, and

falling on his knees he gave himself to Christ. The next letter home

announced him to be a Christian soldier.

A CHRISTIAN.

Many names and titles are significant, but none means so much or has so

much honor attached to it as the word “Christian.” Young said, “A

Christian is the highest style of man.” A Christian is a Christ-lover

and a Christ-worshipper, because he sees God in Christ, and in the

God-man he sees the world’s Redeemer and his own personal Saviour. He

lives in the world, but is not of the world. While in the world he

blesses it by living a godly, upright life. His life work and influence

are a benediction to those among whom he moves. His purpose is “not to

make a living,” as Governor Russell, of Massachusetts, used to say, “but

to make a life.” He is far more concerned about this than about dying.

Death is the least of his concerns. To live is Christ, and because of

this, his life is proof of his profession.

HOW TO BE A CHRISTIAN.

To become a Christian is not a hard matter, though to live the life of

one is a battle with the world, the flesh and Satan. It is because of

the simple rules laid down whereby one can become a Christian that many

of mature life neglect it. Were it culture, polish, or liberality, many

more would be enrolled as Christians, but because a change of heart,

affections or living is demanded, many cling to their ordinary life, but

at the last deplore it, earnestly pleading for forgiveness and

acceptance by Christ.

Three propositions are given in the New Testament, which, accepted, will

lead any boy to know what it is to be a Christian. First, repentance:

“Jesus came into Galilee, preaching ... repent ye.” (Mark 1:14, 15).

Repentance means such sorrow for past conduct as leads to amendment of

life. Second, confession of sin. “If we say we have no sin, we deceive

ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, He is

faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all

unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:8, 9). Third, faith in Christ to save. Paul

said to the jailer, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be

saved.” (Acts 16:31).

A father and son were once following a perilous path among the Alps. In

passing along they gathered some beautiful flowers, but the boy, seeing

a lovely one waving in the breeze, thoughtlessly hurried to secure it.

His foot slipped and he rolled down an incline until he was stopped by

some tall bushes. With all his strength he seized hold of the shrubbery

and commenced to call for help. The brush grew on the brink of a yawning

abyss. It was impossible for the father to reach his son with his hands,

but he carried a staff on one end of which was an iron hook. The boy had

around him a leathern belt, so the father reached down and fastened the

hook in his girdle. The lad, however, could not be drawn up without

releasing his hold on the bushes. He could not see his father, nor did

he in his fright even feel that his father held him up; he only heard

his voice: “Let go of the bushes, my son, and I will save you.” To the

boy it seemed as though he would thus hurry himself to destruction, but,

relying on his father’s word, he forsook his hold and was drawn in

safety to his father’s side.

That boy was saved through faith. His firm belief in his father’s word

saved him. Had he persisted in holding on to the bushes through doubt or

hesitation it would have meant his death. To be saved, every boy must

forsake his hold on sin, yield himself to Christ’s power and mercy, and

then will he find to his joy, that Christ saves to the uttermost. (Heb.

7:25).

THE TIME TO BE A CHRISTIAN.

Solomon said there is “a time to every purpose under the heaven,” (Eccl.

3:1) and no purpose is greater and no time more important than when a

boy becomes a Christian. Youth is the most important period of one’s

life. It is the time when the faculties are most susceptible, heart

tender and will pliable; the time when tastes and biases are created,

habits acquired and character formed for future weal or woe. No other

period affords greater possibilities of long usefulness as well as

opportunities for peculiar usefulness.

A staff-officer, riding over the field of battle during the Civil War,

was attracted by a body lying under a tree, handsomely dressed, with a

fancy sword. He removed the covering and looked into the sweetest and

handsomest face he had ever seen. It was that of a boy, a temporary aide

to some officer. In his pocket was found a Testament in which was

written “James Simmons, N. Y. My son, ‘Remember now thy Creator in the

days of thy youth.’” (Eccl. 12:1).

That is it, youth. The best and most profitable time for piety. Jeremiah

and John the Baptist loved and worshipped God in their youth. Josiah

knew the Lord at eight years of age. Timothy knew the Scriptures and

loved Christ from a child. Polycarp accepted Christ at nine, Jonathan

Edwards at seven, Isaac Watts at nine, Adam Clarke at four, William Penn

at nine, Matthew Henry at eleven, Robert Hall at twelve, Augustus

Toplady at sixteen, while Joseph Griggs not only became a Christian very

young but wrote the hymn—

“_Jesus! and shall it ever be

A mortal man ashamed of Thee!_”

when but ten years of age.

Some years ago the “Golden Rule” sent letters of inquiry to prominent

men of the land asking several questions, one of which was: “At what age

did you become a Christian?” It was found on receiving the answers that

out of one hundred and forty-nine less than one in ten became Christians

later than twenty years of age; twenty-nine were so young that they did

not remember; at least sixty-three professed Christ before they were

eighteen. Nine-tenths of all saved persons are saved before twenty. “Why

this?” you ask. Physiologists say “the cells of the brain change as we

grow old until finally there are ruts in them.” Carlyle explains it

thus: “In younger years the whole mind is, as it were, fluid, and

capable of forming itself into any shape that the owner of the mind

pleases. The mind is in fluid state, but it hardens up gradually to the

consistency of rock or iron, and you cannot alter the habits of the old

man, for as he began he will go on to the last.” To procrastinate in

youth is to jeopardize one’s soul in age.

“REMEMBER.”

“Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth,” (Eccl. 12:1) is the

most important exhortation of the Old Testament. Remember is just the

opposite of forget, and the one to remember is the most exalted and

important in the universe, “thy Creator.” Remember His Word and believe

it, for the promise is: “He that heareth My Word and believeth on Him

that sent Me, hath everlasting life.” (John 5:24). Remember His work and

accept it, for He was made to “sin for us, Who knew no sin; that we

might be made the righteousness of God in Him.” (2 Cor. 5:21). Remember

His love and return it, for “herein is love, not that we loved God, but

that He loved us,” (1 John 4:10) and “gave His only begotten Son, that

whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.”

(John 3:16). Remember this Creator now. Only one time is mentioned in

the Scriptures at which eternal life is promised. Cowley sang of an

“everlasting now,” but there is no such time, and no wise boy desires

that there shall be. There is an eternity of the past, an eternity of

the future, but “now” is limited to now. “Behold, now is the accepted

time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” (2 Cor. 6:2). And this—

“_Opportunity lost, however deplored

Is eternity gone and is never restored._”

After the overthrow of the French empire by the Germans, Prince Napoleon

joined the English army, and went among the savage tribes of South

Africa. One day while with a squad of soldiers outside the camp, he was

warned by one of the company, who said: “We had better return. If we

don’t hasten we may fall into the hands of the enemy.” “Oh,” said the

Prince, “let us stay here ten minutes and drink our coffee.” Before the

ten minutes had passed a company of Zulus came upon them and in the

skirmish the Prince lost his life. His mother, when informed of the

facts, said, “That was his great mistake from boyhood. He never wanted

to go to bed at night in time, nor to arise in the morning. He was ever

pleading for ten minutes more. On this account I sometimes called him

‘Mr. Ten Minutes.’”

The habit of delay was to him what it is to thousands who pass the

tenth, fifteenth and twentieth milestone without accepting Christ, his

ruination. Such delay weakens the force of the will, unfits for action

when opportunity presents, robs the present and blasts the future.

REASONS FOR BEING A CHRISTIAN IN YOUTH.

“If youth,” as Ruskin said, “is essentially one of formation,

edification, instruction,” then is it the proper time to be a Christian,

for “There’s never an hour of it but is trembling with destinies, not a

moment of which, once past, the appointed work can ever be done again,

or the neglected blow struck on cold iron.”

A boy should be a Christian for the sake of safety. As one grows away

from boyhood, he grows away from the opportunities for salvation. He is

liable to drift. There is a point on Niagara River called “Past

Redemption Point,” where the current is too strong for human power to

battle against. Manhood and age have no special promise like “they that

seek Me early shall find Me.” (Prov. 8:17).

A boy should be a Christian that he may be happy. To properly remember

God, to lose oneself in adoration of Him, is to be like Him, to be “holy

as He is holy,” (1 Pet. 1:15, 16) consequently it is to be happy as He

is happy. Holiness and happiness are inseparable. True love and true joy

come together.

A boy should be a Christian to be useful. God’s promise to Abraham was:

“I will bless thee, and thou shalt be a blessing.” (Gen. 12:2). When

Joseph dwelt in Potiphar’s house, we read: “The Lord blessed the

Egyptian’s house, for Joseph’s sake.” (Gen. 39:5). And the boy who loves

Christ will be a rich blessing in many ways to others.

A boy should be a Christian because it is right. Right is better than

might, and worth more than gold. “In the matter of right,” said Martin

Luther, “I will take my stand, I yield to none.” “I’d rather be right

than President,” said Henry Clay. The only proper life to live is the

Christian life. It is sweet on earth, which makes heaven the sweeter.

My boy, be a Christian. “All men at the head of great movements,” said

Mr. Gladstone, “are Christian men. During the many years I was cabinet

officer, I was brought into association with sixty master minds, and all

but five were Christians.” To be a Christian is the most satisfactory,

honorable, influential course to pursue. It gives unspeakable joy in

life, peace in death, and glory hereafter. Remember then—

_God wants the boys—all kinds of boys—

To love Him, serve Him, do His will;

He wants those boys that make much noise,

And those who keep so very still._

_God sent His Son to die for all,

And on the cross His blood was shed.

No boy need spurn His gracious call

Or of the “Bread of Life” be fed._

_Then why not to this Christ now flee

And on His mercy cast thyself?

O hear His words: “Come unto Me,”

And answering back, “I yield myself.”_

CHAPTER XXII

Be Prayerful

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER XXII

BY A. C. LORIMER, D. D.

When I was a youth, I loved to climb Arthur’s Seat early in the morning,

for the purpose of breathing the air borne to our inland home from out

the mighty seas; and so it is well for every lad each day to seek the

summit of highest faith, that he may hold communion with God; that he

may inhale something of the atmosphere of eternal worlds.

It is said that Daniel opened his window when he prayed, toward

Jerusalem. It was doubtless that he might think of the hallowed city.

Better far, however, to open the windows of the soul toward heaven, not

merely that we may think of the hereafter, but that the invisible, at

the present moment, may stream into our being.

Prayer is the soul’s voice. It is the aspiration of the highest part of

man. It is the sublime confidence, that, though foreign, still it is

within the range of possibility to hold communion with the Creator of us

all. Every time we bend the knee before the Throne of Grace, we declare

our belief in our own God-likeness and in our indestructible affinity

for the divine. Therefore, pray, my boy, and keep on praying; for it is

the true Jacob’s ladder that will lead you, round by round, up to the

Everlasting Throne.

[Illustration: Yours Heartily Geo. C. Lorimer]

CHAPTER XXII

BE PRAYERFUL

A noble characteristic of any boy is love for prayer. Too many consider

common amusements more important than going to some chamber or church to

commune with the loving Saviour. They are not. The former bring

transient happiness and with it a weary frame, the latter an unexplained

peace, rest of body and soul. The former gratifies for a time without

changing selfish desires or promoting lofty aspirations, the latter

moulds into the image of the Christ-character.

Prayer is not simply a petition or mere forms of a vain repetition. It

is a turning of the life toward God, an opening of the soul toward

heaven, a reaching out of one’s being with desire to appropriate the

Divine. It was a shoemaker’s shop, with bench, half-worn shoes and not a

few boxes. The proprietor was an old friend of the writer, so deaf that

few could converse with him. Visiting the village in which he lived, I

called upon him. After a chat by means of the lips, signs and paper, he

asked if I would like to hear his son play the harp. Assenting, he

called the lad, who brought a beautiful instrument. Placing his feet on

the pedals, he ran his fingers over the wires and melodious music

resounded. When it stopped, I turned to the old man, and asked by signs:

“Did you hear it?” Shaking his head, he answered, “Not a note.” Then

stepping to the stove, he picked up a long black poker, and putting one

end between his teeth and the other on the harp, he motioned the boy to

play. The lad’s fingers moved as if by magic. The room was flooded with

music and passing pedestrians stopped to listen. Suddenly the musician

stopped. I propounded the same question: “Did you hear anything?” He

laughed and answered: “All that you heard, I heard.” How? That dirty

poker was changed into a conductor of sound. It brought harp and

listener in contact with each other. In like manner prayer brings God

and petitioner into near relation. What one pleads, the other hears, and

answering, God makes music in the soul.

GREAT MEN GREAT IN PRAYING.

Many great men have been _great_ in praying. Men of the Bible, men of

science, history and influence have been firm believers in it. Charles

Simeon and Joseph Alleine spent from four to eight o’clock in the

morning waiting upon God. Wesley gave two hours a day, Luther the first

three hours. Samuel Rutherford was up at three in the morning to give

God praise. Archbishop Leighton was so much alone with God that he

seemed to be in a perpetual meditation. Bishop Ken was so much alone

with God, that his soul was said to be God-enamored. David Brainerd

prayed hour after hour. John Fletcher spent whole nights in prayer, John

Welsh often seven to eight hours a day. When the hour for devotion

arrived, General Gordon displayed a white handkerchief outside his tent,

and as long as it remained, no one was allowed to disturb him. General

Stonewall Jackson’s servant used to say that when his master got up

several times during the night to pray there was to be a battle next

day. Abraham Lincoln acknowledged that he had been driven to his knees

“by the overwhelming conviction that he had nowhere else to go.”

Gathering his pupils about him at the opening of his school, Agassiz

said, “It is becoming that we first of all bow in the presence of the

Infinite One.” Well might these exclaim with thousands of others: “For

this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

(Eph. 3:14).

PRAYER MAKES A BOY BRAVE.

During the Civil War a dozen soldiers were playing cards one night when

one exclaimed: “What on earth was that?” Listening attentively a moment,

he heard a low, solemn voice, coming from the next tent, occupied by

several recruits, who had that day arrived in camp. Accompanied by the

others he approached the tent on tip-toe. “Boys, he’s praying, or I’m a

sinner!” he roared out. “Three cheers for the parson!” shouted another

man of the group as the prayer ended. “You watch things for three weeks.

I’ll show you how to take the religion out of him,” said the first

speaker, laughing. He was a large burly fellow, prominent in mischief.

The recruit was a slight, pale-faced boy. During the next three weeks

the latter was the butt of the camp. Then several of the boys, conquered

by the lad’s gentle patience and uniform kindness, begged the others to

stop annoying him. “Oh, the little ranter is no better than the rest of

us!” answered the ringleader. “When we get under fire, you’ll see him

run. These pious folk don’t like the smell of gunpowder. I’ve no faith

in their religion.”

In a few weeks, the regiment broke camp, marched toward Richmond,

entered the Wilderness and engaged in that fearful battle. The company

to which the young recruit belonged had a desperate struggle. The

brigade was driven back, and when the line was formed behind the

breastworks they had built in the morning, he was missing. When last

seen, he was surrounded by enemies, fighting desperately. At his side

was the brave fellow who had made the poor lad a constant object of

ridicule. Both were given up as lost. Suddenly the big man was seen

tramping through the underbrush, bearing the dead body of the boy.

Reverently he laid the corpse down, saying as he wiped the blood from

his own face: “Boys, I couldn’t leave him behind, he fought so. I

thought he deserved a decent burial.”

During a lull in the battle the men dug a shallow grave and tenderly

laid him to rest. Then, as one was cutting the name and regiment upon a

board, the big man said, with a husky voice, “I guess you’d better put

the words ‘Praying soldier’ in somewhere. He deserves the title, and

maybe it’ll console him for our abuse.”

There was not a dry eye among those rough men as they stuck the rudely

carved board at the head of the grave. “Well,” said one, “he was a

praying Christian soldier if ever there was one! And,” turning to the

ringleader, “he didn’t run, did he, when he smelt gunpowder?” “Run!”

answered the big man, his voice tender with emotion. “Why, he didn’t

budge an inch! But what’s that to standing for weeks our fire like a

man, and never sending a word back! He just stood by his flag and let us

pepper him, he did; and boys, I have made up my mind if prayer will make

a man as bold, as loving, as forgiving, as good, as it did that boy, I’m

going to resort to it. It did him good and it’ll do me good,” and as the

other fellows bent their heads he prayed for forgiveness and salvation,

at the close of which the others said, “Amen!”

HOW TO PRAY.

Prayer is a blessed privilege, a vital necessity, an imperative duty,

but many there are who do not know how to pray. A mere repetition of

words or reading prayers is not prayer. Prayer may be a sigh, a tear, a

groan, a bungling utterance, “a true wish” as Phillips Brooks used to

say, “sent God-ward.” It is—

“_the soul’s sincere desire

Uttered or unexpressed.

The motive of a hidden fire

That kindles in the breast._”

Prayer should always be accompanied by thanksgiving and confession.

David said, “I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord,” (Psalm

32:5) and Paul exhorts, “Giving thanks always for all things unto God

and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Eph. 5:20).

Prayer should be offered in faith. Faith is taking one at his word and

thus Christ said, “If ye ask anything in My name, I will do it.” (John

14:14). To pray without faith, the Bible informs us, is sin, and this is

the reason why many of our petitions are not answered. They are like

those blossoms which fall blasted to the earth. They had a certain

beauty and fragrance, but for want of some conformity to the law of

growth, they never developed into fruit. They are, as Mrs. Stowe says,

“drowsy mutterings of unawakened souls, talking in their sleep.” But

real prayer is always answered. There may be delays as in Daniel’s

petition, or tests to strengthen faith, as when Jesus said to Jairus,

“Fear not, only believe,” (Luke 8:50) for what Christ has promised, He

will certainly perform.

WHEN AND WHERE TO PRAY.

Prayer should be our vital breath. As with Paul, it should be “without

ceasing,” (Thess. 5:17) our inward desire continually going up to God.

It should be the first exercise of the morning and the last in the

evening. “It is the first hour of the morning,” says a Chinese proverb,

“that gives color to all the others that follow.” Louis XIV. was

awakened every morning with the words: “Arise, Monsieur, you have great

things to do to-day.” But how could they be done properly without God’s

blessing, and how could God’s blessing be secured without asking? When

Arthur P. Stanley the first night went to the dormitory at Eton School

where he with others had to sleep, he knelt down to say his evening

prayers. Instantly a shower of pillows and shoes flew about him. He

prayed on. “Stanley,” said one of the boys next day, “I ought to have

done as you did. I haven’t said my prayers at night because I was afraid

of the ridicule of the boys.” It was not long before a score of them

followed his example. President Garfield when a boy undertook with a

number of students from Williams College to climb Mount Greylock. Their

plan was to spend the night on the mount. Seated around the campfire

they sang college songs and told stories all the evening. At bedtime

Garfield took a Testament from his pocket and said: “Boys, it is my

custom to read a chapter in the Bible and have prayer before going to

bed. Shall we have it all together?” and though it seemed rather hard to

do, Garfield did it and all were blessed for it.

Two places are mentioned in the Scriptures where a boy should pray.

Those places are the Christian’s arsenal. One is the secret chamber

where communion is sweet because undisturbed, the other is the church,

where in unity believers call upon God. To the devout boy both are the

“Holy of Holies” where God delights to meet him at the “Mercy Seat.”

Blessed is the place of public prayer! Never neglect it. But the place

of secret prayer is still more blessed. Cyprian would resort to a shady

arbor where “no profane listener may hinder my musings, and no domestic

clamor drown them.” Robert Murray McCheyne declared, “It is my noblest

and most fruitful employment.” Henry Martyn mourned at the close of his

saintly life, that he had devoted “too much time to public works and too

little to private communion with God.” God said, “In quietness and in

confidence shall be your strength.” (Isa. 30:15).

O, the sweetness of one hour at the feet of Jesus. It changes

dispositions, purifies character, overcomes obstacles, imparts strength

to resist temptations, yes, it makes life worth living.

“_We kneel, and all around us seems to lower;

We rise, and all, the distant and the near,

Stands forth in sunny outline, brave and clear;

We kneel, how_ WEAK! _we rise, how full of_ POWER!”

WHAT PRAYER WILL DO.

More things are wrought by prayer than anything else. It opens heaven’s

door, commands God’s ears to hear and hand to bestow, makes darkened

clouds withdraw, climbs—

“_the ladder Jacob saw,

Gives exercise to faith and love;

Brings every blessing from above._”

Prayer has brought rain a thousand times since Elijah prayed, softened

kings’ hearts since Nehemiah won the sympathy of Artaxerxes, shut lions’

mouths since Daniel was cast into their den, given victory to armies

since Amalek was discomfited, liberated captives since Peter was

delivered from prison, abated storms since Christ said to wind and wave:

“Peace! be still,” (Mark 4:39) arrested hundreds of prodigals since

Monica prayed for her wicked son Augustine, restored health, supplied

food, transformed lives and revolutionized nations.

Prayer is the means that aids to keep in subjection the sinful

tendencies of human nature and though living in the world keeps us

separated from it. It is the means to aid us in winning souls for Jesus.

John Wesley was once riding along when he saw a man kneeling by the

wayside breaking stones. “Ah,” cried he, “I wish I could break the

hearts of some who hear me as easily as you are breaking those stones.”

The man looked up and said, “Did you ever try to break them on your

knees?” Pleading with God should always precede pleading with souls to

come to God, and it is a question whether anyone has ever come to God

who was not earnestly prayed for by some one.

Prayer will also make a death-bed glorious. “Yea,” saith the Psalmist,

“though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no

evil, for Thou art with me, Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.”

(Psalm 23:4). A boy was dying at midnight. He had just awakened from

sleep. “Is it near morning?” he asked his father. “It soon will be,”

replied the parent. “Do you think I will get well?” “I hope so,” sobbed

the father. There was a long silence, then the lad moved restlessly on

the pillow and said, “Hold me up, father, I want to say my prayers.”

Then, clasping his hands together, he repeated: “Our Father, which art

in heaven, hallowed be Thy name, Thy kingdom come. Thy kingdom come. I

can’t remember, father! I can’t remember!” A short time after the

morning light stole into the room. “Forever and forever,” uttered the

boy and he fell asleep in death.

O, my boy, cultivate this glorious habit of praying. To be intimately

acquainted with God cheers, inspires, ennobles. An old man lay dying.

His sons stood around his bed to receive his parting counsel, and his

last blessing. He had fought the battle of life successfully; and, so

far as this world was concerned, had come out crowned with honors. He

had been a pillar in the church; his seat had never been vacant, his

hand always freely opened to every call. For months he had been laid

aside by a lingering and painful illness. “Boys,” he said, “God has been

good to me. He has given me many friends, good children, a loving wife,

and abundant means; but what I thank Him for now most of all is this

long and painful illness. Without it my life would have been a failure;

I should have gone hence without knowing as I should the only One worth

knowing. Boys, whatever you do or whatever you leave undone, whether you

make another cent of money or not, take time to get acquainted with

God.” That’s it. So acquainted with Him that with simple words you can

breathe your heart’s desire. So acquainted as to talk with Him the first

thing in the morning and the last in the evening. So acquainted as to

seek His favor in everything and to praise Him for anything.

“_Implore His aid, in His decisions rest,

Secure, what’er He gives, He gives the best._”

CHAPTER XXIII

Be a Bible Student

INTRODUCTION TO CHAPTER XXIII

BY JAMES H. BROOKES

1. _The command of our Lord_: “Search the Scriptures; for in them ye

think ye have eternal life: and they are they which testify of Me.”—John

5:39.

2. _They will make a boy wise_: “From a child thou hast known the Holy

Scriptures, which are able to make thee wise unto salvation through

faith which is in Christ Jesus.”—2 Timothy 2:15.

3. _They will cleanse his way_: “Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse

his way? By taking heed thereto according to Thy Word.”—Psalms 119:9.

4. _They will be a lamp and a light_: “Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet

and a light unto my path. The entrance of Thy Words giveth light; it

giveth understanding to the simple.”—Psalm 119:195, 130.

5. _The Bible will do more for you than father or mother_: “When thou

goest, it shall lead thee: when thou sleepest, it shall keep thee: and

when thou awakest, it shall talk with thee.”—Proverbs 6:22.

6. _By the Word you are born again_: “Being born again not of

corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the Word of God, which liveth

and abideth forever.”—1 Peter 1:23.

7. _By the Word you grow_: “As new-born babes, desire the sincere milk

of the Word, that ye may grow thereby.”—1 Peter 2:2.

[Illustration: Yrs in Him. James H. Brookes.]

CHAPTER XXIII

BE A BIBLE STUDENT

Never was there an age with so many books as the present; books to amuse

and instruct, books of fact and fiction, but the greatest and grandest

is the Bible. “It has,” as Locke said, “God for its author, salvation

for its end, and truth without mixture of error for its matter,—it is

all pure, all sincere; nothing too much, nothing wanting.”

The Bible is the only book in which the best literature of thirty

centuries is incorporated, the only book which has been translated into

more than three hundred languages and printed by the hundreds of

millions. The only book which has stimulated invention, advanced

education, given stability, order and prosperity to homes and nations,

emancipated slaves, exalted virtue, and led lost souls to a knowledge of

Christ and everlasting life.

The Bible! Bishop Foster said, “Exiled, it has created a new kingdom and

shifted the center and balance of power. Carried away captive, it has

broken down rival altars and overthrown false gods, till the right of

way has been accorded to it by friend and foe. Sold into bondage by

false brethren, it has captured the hearts of its masters, and ascended

the throne of dominion. Driven into sea, it has gone over dry shod,

seeing its enemies overwhelmed in the flood and itself singing the glad

song of deliverance. Burned on the public square by the public

executioner, it has risen Phœnix-like and floated away in triumph,

wearing the smoke of its own funeral pyre as a flag of victory. Scourged

from city to city, it has gone through the capitals of the civilized

world, leaving behind it a trail of light attesting its divine

authority. Cast into the leper’s pest-house, it has purified the scales

of contagion, restored the soft pink skin of smiling infancy, quickened

the energies of romping youth, and recreated the sinews of heroic

manhood. Betrayed by a kiss, it has stood erect in the calm majesty of

eternity, amid the swarming minions of its enemies. Nailed to a felon’s

cross it has illuminated the darkness by the radiance of its own glory,

and transformed the summits of sacrifice into a throne of universal

judgment. Sealed into the gloom of a sepulcher, it has come forth with

the echoing footsteps of Almighty God, rising to dominion over all

intelligences.”

The Bible! Marvelous book! It has illuminated every darkness, broken the

shackles of vicious habits, and given inspiration along all lines of

goodness. The pictures of Raphael, the images of Milton, the allegory of

Bunyan were all drawn from it. Ruskin built his literary productions

upon it. The poets Thompson and Johnson dipped their pens in the style

of the Orientals. Emboldened by its teaching Howard devoted his life to

the amelioration of prisoners, Wilberforce and Lincoln to the

emancipation of slaves, and the Pilgrim Fathers forsook their native

land to accept the hardships of this untilled country, where they might

worship God according to the dictates of their conscience.

The Bible! It is the best book for boys. Not only does it tell the story

of Joseph sold into slavery by his jealous brothers, Samuel called by

God in the night, David killing Goliath with sling and stone, Daniel

cast into the lions’ den, Christ confounding the doctors of the law by

His knowledge of the Scriptures, but it makes one rich in things

eternal. In London a poor man once purchased a second-hand family Bible,

and was turning over its leaves, when he found two stuck together. His

wife loosened them with hot water, and found there six crisp five pound

bank-notes, twenty-five dollars each. He was questioning his right to

keep them, when he found these words written on one of them: “I have had

to work very hard for these, and, having no natural heirs, I leave thee,

whoever shall buy this Holy Book, my lawful heir, June 17, 1840, South

End, Essex.” So—

“_This Book unfolds Jehovah’s mind,

This voice salutes in accents kind;

This friend will all your needs supply,

This fountain send forth streams of joy.

This mine affords us boundless wealth,

This good physician gives us health.

This sun renews and warms the soul,

This sword both wounds and makes us whole;

This letter shows our sins forgiven,

This guide conducts us safe to heaven;

This charter has been sealed with blood—

This volume is the Word of God._”

READ THE BIBLE.

The Bible, being such an excellent book, should be read with care. There

is not a condition or circumstance in life but that some appropriate

counsel is given. “In this Book,” as Dean Stanley said to the skeptic

Ewald, “is contained all the wisdom of the world.” George Muller formed

the habit of reading it through with diligent attention four times a

year. So delighted was Sir William Jones with it, that he wrote on the

blank leaf of his Bible: “I have regularly and attentively perused these

Holy Scriptures.”

If the Bible is good to read it is better to study. To study is an art

and is the couplet to habitual practice. Said a talented young man to a

musician, “Tell me how to play the sonatas of Beethoven in their true

spirit.” “You ask too much of me,” said the musician, “yet I will do

what I can. What do you play these days?” “Nothing.” “My friend! How

shall I tell you how to play Beethoven when it is not your habit to play

anything at all? To know how to play Beethoven you must first of all

know how to play.” So with the Bible. To know how to study it, we must

first of all know how to study. To enjoy a painting one needs more than

to glance at it. It should be looked at from every point, the variety of

shading noticed minutely, and then, taking a step backwards, one is

better able to appreciate it, as its whole beauty stands out

prominently. There is an ingenious engraving of the first draft of the

American Constitution and the Emancipation Proclamation, so finely

shaded that at a little distance one presents a perfect likeness of

George Washington, the other an excellent portrait of Abraham Lincoln.

So after investigating this authentic history, this library of sixty-six

of the world’s best books, the more than a hundred pieces of its best

music and double that of pictures, one cannot fail to see standing out

from all the great Jehovah and His beloved Son, Jesus Christ.

PEASANT AND BIBLE.