From the Plough-Boy's Cottage.
This morning, as I awoke from my slumbers, these words came before me,
"_Take care what you sow!_" The reflections they have awakened, amidst
the wonderings such a salutation of the morning beam has excited; may
not prove idle or merely speculative.
The husbandman, when he commits his seed to the earth, conscious of
having done all within his power, rests in the goodness of HIM who
rules these lower elements, for the completion of the work. The white
mantle of Nature is thrown over the germs of future sustenance, by the
genial breath of Spring; "the early and the latter rains," and the
vivifying heat of the sun, awaken those germs into beauty, clothe them
with luxuriance, and ripen them for the sickle. But the husbandman well
knows, that unless he be careful to select seed of the proper kind, and
weight and purity, the product, he will reap, will deteriorate in its
nature. However good the soil may be, his granary will receive a value
proportioned only to his attention to the maxim--_Take care what you
sow._
But there are SEEDS, whose value is infinitely greater than wheat, or
rye, or barley. Give me your ears, ye honest hearts of our rich farms,
ye independent men of our beautiful vallies, and let me caution you to
_take care how you sow_!
It is recorded, with great truth, that "books, men and things are lying
constantly in wait to deceive souls, and bring them to perdition:" and
books are here very correctly placed first on the list of deceivers.
They are more dangerous, because less suspected; and the _seeds_,
which are sown, by pernicious volumes, in the minds of the young and
inexperienced, in the silence of solitude, take very deep root, and
bring forth fruits of vice and corruption. O! how the spirit of genuine
sensibility laments the widely spreading evils, which cast desolation
over _fields of beauty!_ Beware! ye noble-minded yeomen, how you admit
into your little libraries, these insidious seducers, these _tares_,
which grow amidst the tender plants which the LORD of the heritage has
deposited in the soil he loves, and committed to your charge. It is
in your power to aid the growth of the germs of goodness and piety,
which may flourish under your fostering care, by the blessing of the
great Husbandman, and make your children the glory of our country!
Aim, therefore, at a judicious selection, that the _seeds_ you sow may
not want either weight or purity; and then "the early and the latter
rain," which descend _from above_, will mature them into strength and
loveliness.
This caution is also peculiarly applicable to those who have the
direction of the numerous village libraries, that have latterly arisen
in our favoured land. On these men, an awful responsibility rests.
They have, in their hands, the future characters of the people, who
may live in their respective neighbourhoods. They have, under their
care, _the destinies of an unborn race_! The _seeds_, which are
now sown in the hearts of the young, will, when they shall become
parents, be transmitted to other soils. What an incalculable magnitude
and importance invest this subject! Let them beware, therefore,
as they shall answer at a high tribunal. "Take care,"--said a
monitor to the celebrated statuary, BACON, as he tapped him on the
shoulder,--"remember, you are working for posterity!"--and the caution
was reciprocated to the divine. _Take care_, says the Plough-Boy, to
the directors of village libraries, _what you sow_!
Many a lovely damsel, whose rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes once
indicated the sweetness and the purity of innocence, has had her heart
tarnished, corrupted, ruined, by the insidious poison of books,--books
read in secret, remote from the vigilant eye of a tender parent or kind
friend. Into the recesses of the solitude of these; yes, even at the
hour when the remainder of the family is reposing in peace, and when
the rays of the midnight lamp are thrown on the idle, the romantic, or
vicious page, let the warning voice of the Plough-Boy enter. May his
accents thunder in their ears, _Take care how you sow_!
The vast increase of _taverns_, in our country and villages, calls
us to beware of _men_, as well as of books. There is a great
difference, my father tells me, between the simplicity of manners,
which characterized the times when he was a boy, and the idleness
and dissipation which have now spread over the country. Then it was
considered a _disgrace_, to a young farmer, to be seen at a tavern,
excepting when absolute necessity called him thither. Now, visit one
of these seductive inns, in an afternoon, and we can see a band of
hardy striplings, smoking their segars, drinking their cans of beer,
or tossing off their glasses of "real Holland," and permitting their
minds to be agitated by the evanescent politics of the day, while
their families are either ignorant of their habits, or mourning over
the tares, which the enemy is sowing in a fruitful field. Alas! even
in his time, the Plough-Boy has witnessed the robust young husbandman,
graced with an athletic form, adorned with vivid health and manly
beauty, and blessed with a lovely wife and innocent prattlers, sink
into an early grave, opened by Infamy and closed by Despair, solely in
consequence,--first, of suffering his mind to be led aside from his
business by the solicitations of idle men, and losing his precious time
at the tavern; and then, of "just taking a social glass," which they
have told him it would be unmanly to refuse.
Beware, my youthful companions, of these _first_, and apparently
insignificant steps in idleness. No man suddenly becomes wicked. The
power of habit is enlisted on the side of virtue, until its barrier be
broken down by repeated _small_ attacks; and he, who in former times
could indignantly exclaim, "Is thy servant a _dog_, that he would do
this thing?" yet committed the very evils at which an exalted spirit
had shuddered with terror. _Take care_, ye young noblemen of Nature!
_how you sow_.
Various other incitements are widely spread through our country,
to lead men to sow seeds of vice and ignominy in their fields. It
becomes not the Plough-Boy to enter too much into detail. The evils
are abroad, and walking their desolating course; and he who can, in
the hour of solitude, yield his mind to the dominion of reflection,
will be at no loss to discover the peculiar inducements to idleness or
dissoluteness, in his own vicinity. To all, therefore, who value the
_seeds of immortal beauty_, let the warning voice of the Plough-Boy of
the valley, reach with effect; and the gentle salutation of the morning
ray, which visited his own spirit, may not have been sent without an
instructive purpose. To all, this lesson is deeply interesting; for
the happiness of the long, long ages of eternity, depends upon it.
"Whatsoever a man shall sow, that will he reap. If ye sow to the flesh,
ye shall reap corruption; but if to the spirit, the life which is
eternal."
_Downington, January 29, 1820._