ANOTHER OF MR MAURICE'S LESSONS.
'Father,' said Harry, after the little family had gathered around the
fire as usual, on the ensuing evening, 'it seems strange that people can
love good books too well.'
'I believe they are not very apt to, Harry, especially boys who are so
fond of snowballing and sliding, as a certain little fellow I met
to-day.'
'Oh you mean me, now, father, but I thought you liked to have me play.'
'So I do; only look out that the books and play go together. One is for
the mind, and the other is for the body, and both should be cared for.'
'Well, father, Mr Titus tells the boys, that the mind is the only thing
worthy of attention, at least he talks as though he thought so; and so
some of the larger boys think it is not scholarlike to play, and sit
mewed up in the house from morning till night, like so many drones.'
'And so grow pale and sickly-looking, do they not?'
'Yes, sir; and what's more, I don't think they learn a bit faster than
some of the rest of us.'
'Very likely, Harry--for whether they think proper attention to the body
important or not, the state of the mind depends very much upon it. A
healthy mind, that is, a perfectly sound, active, and energetic one,
cannot dwell in a diseased body; and so your play, while it amuses you,
and seems to others to be mere waste of time, invigorates the body,
affords rest to the mind, and is in reality as essential to your
well-being as the food you eat, or the clothing you wear in winter.'
'I wish Mr Titus could hear you say that, father.'
'Perhaps it would not be safe to talk so to all his boys, for I presume
the most of them would at present be more benefited by what he says.
Children seldom love study too well. Even our little book-worm, Effie,
would never become too much engaged in anything but a story.'
'Father, Thomas Marvin says that he can't get to school for a while,
and he can't spend the time in exercise; as he says fun takes his mind
off his books, and makes him lose a great deal. He is intending to teach
a school when he goes away from here, but I don't believe he will, for
he looks sickly now. But he thinks it is very foolish to spend time in
jumping about, and all that, when there are things so much more
important to be done.'
'The body, which God has so wonderfully made, and which He watches over
with such tender care, is very far from being beneath our notice, Harry;
and while we should give the greater care to the immortal part, we
should not neglect the other. I have been visiting a scholar to-day, who
I doubt not was once of young Marvin's opinion in these things, and,
poor fellow! he does not even see his folly now.'
'Please tell us about him, father,' said Effie, with interest, 'did he
study so much to make him selfish and wicked?'
'I will tell you the story, and then you must be the judge,' returned
Mr Maurice. 'I believe, however, that in this case selfishness was more
out of the question than usual; he had too much zeal, "a zeal not
according to knowledge." Lewis Varden was the son of a poor widow, who
contrived to support a large family in comfort and to give them a good
education. He was the youngest son, and perhaps from the circumstance of
being too tenderly nurtured, and perhaps from some constitutional
defect, was never so strong and muscular as his brothers, and so his
mother determined that he should study a profession.
'Lewis was particularly pleased with the arrangement, as he had a
natural fondness for sedentary employments, and at sixteen had become so
extensive a reader, as to be a kind of family encyclopedia. The
question, however, remained to be decided whether he should study law or
medicine, the only professions which among us are at all lucrative.
'While he was yet wavering between the two, he lost his mother, and
suddenly the whole object of his life, even his own character, became
changed. Mrs Varden was what is usually called a good woman, that is,
with a sharp eye upon her worldly interests, she maintained her standing
in the church, and bore a fair reputation; but she was a worldly-minded
Christian, and as such had not sufficiently encouraged in her children
any peculiar love for holiness. She was, however, a devoted,
self-sacrificing mother, as far as their worldly interests were
concerned: and never was a lost parent more sincerely mourned.
'From that time forth, Lewis seemed to lose all connection with the
business part of the world, and he devoted himself more closely than
ever to his books.
'Yet among these books, the Bible now found a place, and occupied a
large share of his attention. From reading it, because it suited his now
serious thoughts, he began to love its contents, and finally he made
them the guide of his life. He became a member of the church in the
little village where he resided, and was soon regarded as a very
promising young man.
'His new friends were exceedingly anxious that he should study for the
ministry, and he entered with alacrity upon his new duties. But not
content with what he considered the circuitous way to usefulness usually
taken, he determined by industry to cut it short, and so the noonday sun
and midnight lamp found him at the same task. When worn out by his
incessant mental labours, he would throw himself down and sleep for a
little time; but his dreams were only a continuation of his waking
thoughts, so that even in sleep he was studying still.
'When his fellow-students expostulated, he laughed at the idea of his
health being injured by incessant application, and seemed to be afraid
that variety of employment would distract his attention. So he went on
from week to week, and month to month, preparing his mind for
usefulness, but his body for the grave. His pale brow grew yet paler,
his cheek hollow, and his hand thin and colourless, but still he
declared himself to be in perfect health, and no one knew his danger.
'Finally, he was attacked by a cold, a very slight one, he at first
thought, but it clung to him, and could not be shaken off. The poor
fellow is now wasting away by consumption, but I cannot convince him of
his danger, and to-day when I called on him at the house of his brother,
I found him surrounded by books and papers, his large dark eye
absolutely glowing with enthusiasm, and a deep red spot burning on
either cheek.'
'Oh, father, what did you say to him?' inquired Harry, earnestly.
'A short time ago I recommended quiet and relaxation, telling him
plainly that his disease was beyond the reach of medicine, so he
understood my look of painful surprise at once.
'He only shook his head, laughingly, and said, "Ah, Doctor, this life is
too short to throw away, and so I have gone to work. But you must not
blame me," he said, observing that I was about to speak, "I am only
planning a few sermons I intend to preach next summer."
'And then he went on to talk about his intentions, and inquired my
opinion of some particular sentiments that he had been writing down,
until he became so much excited that I was obliged to order the removal
of all his papers. Poor fellow! he will never preach a sermon. In his
impatience to become useful, he has destroyed his power to do good.'
'I don't think,' said Effie, 'that poor Mr Varden makes knowledge his
_god_ exactly, because he does it all for good; but it would be very
wicked for Harry or me to do so, because we know how wrong it is. I wish
everybody that praised people for studying too hard could know it is
wicked.'
'But remember,' said Mr Maurice, 'that where one person's cheek is
paled by hard study, fifty make themselves utterly useless by neglecting
the bodily exercise which _moderate_ mental effort demands. It is
aversion to active employment, and not the love of knowledge, that has
slain its hundreds and crippled its thousands.'