Anecdotes for boys


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Anecdotes for boys
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Newcomb, Harvey
Gould and Lincoln
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S. N. Dickinson, stereotypist
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University of Florida
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Xi 0. 0. HATLs' RES'DNBcE, BROMPTON. %e page 118.









Entered according to Ac of Congress, in the year 184T,


In the Clerk's Ofie of the District Court of the District of Mams chusetf



I nAVE noticed that young people are fond
of reading anecdotes, narratives, parables, &c.
This taste of theirs sometimes leads them to
devour all the trash that comes in their way,
with no other object than mere amusement.
But, if properly guarded, it may be the means
of conveying truth to their minds in a form not
only more attractive, but more readily under-
stood. The design of this book is, to supply
reading of this kind, which shall be not only
entertaining but instructive. I never write for
the amusement of the reader merely. But I
am glad if he is entertained at the same time
that he is instructed.
This book is not a mere compilation of
stories. Its main object is to illustrate truth
and character. No anecdote has been admitted
but such as could be turned to this account; and


if .suited to this purpose, the question has not
been asked whether it was new or old. But
nearly every one has been entirely rewritten,
presented in a new dress, and made to bear on
the object in view. The work was suggested,
while writing my last two publications, "How
to be a Man," and "How to be a Lady." I had
designed to illustrate the topics there treated of,
in this manner, but could not find space. The
favor with which these works have been received,
has encouraged me to undertake something of
the kind separately. I have prepared two vol-
umes, one for boys and one for girls, but the
matter in each is entirely distinct. The same
anecdote is in no instance introduced into both
books; though in some cases the topics are simi-
lar. They form a pair, for the rising youth of
both sees; and if they saall contribute in any
degree towards forming their characters, after
the true model, my object will be attained.
Grantille, Mass, Sept. 1847.


THa BOY MAKES THE MAN--Benedict Arnold -
George Washington Gov. Ritner Roger Sherman. .9

FILIAL PIETY.-George Washington-obey God
rather than man a son's love -filial piety rewarded -
filial tenderness -filial impiety punished-think how
you will feel when your parents are gone-benefit of
obedience reward of disobedience conscientious obe-
dience cheerful obedience, sullen obedience, and diso-
bedience. .............*......**.................. 16

SOCIAL VIaRTEs AND VICES.-Brotherly affection
-the golden rule-gratitude and benevolence--man-
ners overcome evil with good use of the tongue -
contention punctuality. ***.....................* 31

BAD CorPANY AnD BAD HABITS. Green, the re-
formed gambler-profaneness playing truant ruin


of a deacon's son bad books intemperance going
to the theatre- gaming .......................... 70


INDUSTRY LABOR, &c. An Indian story -
business first and then pleasure industry.......... 90


TRUE GBEATNEss.-Anecdotes of President Jef-
ferson, Chief Justice Marshall, Chancellor Kent, and
Dr. Franklin. .................................. 97


ADVANTAGES OF HONESTY. Colbert two oppo-
site examples fruits of dishonesty................. 101


learnin- dislike of study.- ....................... 109


pendence of character contentment the old black
sheep. ......................................... 115


RELIGION. Religious knowledge the Sabbath -
early piety recommended uncertainty of life........ 124




SMAN'S character is formed
early in life. There may be
some exceptions. In some
instances, very great changes
take place after a person has
grown to manhood. But,
even in such cases, many of
the early habits of thought,
feeling, and action still, remain.
And sometimes, we are disappoint-
ed in the favorable appearances of
early life. Not unfrequently the
promising boy, in youth or early man-
hood, runs a rapid race downward in
the road to ruin. All the promimq
appearances failed, because they were
not formed upon religious principle and a change
of heart. But, as a general rule, show me the


boy, and I will show you the man. The follow-
ing cases afford illustrations of this principle.

Benedict Arnold.

I suppose all my readers have heard of Bene-
dict Arnold, the traitor; and of his attempt to
betray his country into the hands of the British,
during the Revolutionary War. His name is a
by-word in the mouth of every lover of liberty
in the land. But there are few that know how
he came to be such a character. When we come
to learn his early history we feel no more sur-
prise. His father was an intemperate man;
and at an early age, Benedict was placed with
an apothecary, in Norwich, Connecticut, his
native town. His master soon discovered in
him themost offensive traits of character. He
seemed to be entirely destitute of moral prin-
ciple, and even of conscience. He added to a
passionate love of mischief a cruel disposition and
a violent, ungovernable temper. He had no
sympathy with any thing that was good. His
boyish pleasures were of the criminal and unfeel-
ing cast. He would rob the nests of birds, and
mangle and maim the young ones, that he might
be diverted by their mother's cries. He would


throw broken pieces of glass into the street,
where the children passed baredootMl J*t. they
might hurt their feet. He would persuade the
little boys to come round the door of his shop,
and then beat them with a horse-whip. All this
showed a malicious disposition, and great hard-
ness of heart. He hated instruction and despised
reproof; and his master could not instil into his
mind any religious or moral principles, nor make
any good impression upon his heart.
Before Benedict had reached his sixteenth
year, he twice enlisted as a soldier and was
brought back by his friends. He repaid his
mother's kindness with baseness and ingratitude;
so that, between the intemperance and wretched-
ness of the father, and the cruelty and depravity
of the son, she died of a broken heart. When
he grew up, the same character followed him.
We need not be surprised, then, that, in the
most critical period of his country's history, he
betrayed his trust. He was a General in the
American Army, in the Revolutionary War; and
by his extravagance, and his overbearing behav-
ior, he brought upon himself a reprimand from
the American Congress. His temper, naturally
impetuous, had never been controlled, and he
could not bear reproof. He was bent on re-
venge; and to accomplish it, he entered into a


negottion, through Major Andre, to deliver up
West Point, of which he had the command, to
the enemy. If the plot had not been discovered
and prevented it would have been a very great
calamity to our country. It might have turned
the scale against us. I have some personal rea-
son to feel indignant at the traitor, besides
what arises from the love of country; for my
father was on picket guard at West Point, the
night in which it was to have been delivered up,
and would have been the first man killed. If
Arnold had been caught, he would have dosed
his career on the gallows; but, as it was, he
escaped,'and a more worthy man suffered. He
received, as the reward of his treachery, the ap-
pointment of Brigadier General in the British
Army, and ten thousand pounds sterling. But
his name will go down with the history of his
country, to the latest generation, black with infk-
my. He was a bad boy, and he made a bad man.
And, as Solomon has said, "The name of the
wicked shall rot."


A single incident, in the history of Qeory.
rPshington as a boy, furnishes a clew to the
character of George Washington as a uma. I


refer to the well known story of the new hatchet
and the cherry-tree, with his refusing to tell a
lie; which I need not repeat, because it is pre-
served in the books that are read in our common
schools, and embalmed in the memory of the ris-
ing generation. This incident shows that he had
already in his bosom a deep-seated principle of
stern integrity, which no temptation could shake.
This was the leading feature in his character
when he became a man. We have evidence,
also, from other incidents which have been rela-
ted of his early life, that strong, deep-seated, filial
piety, was one of the prominent elements of his
youthful character. He had learned, in early
life, to honor and obey his parents; and this
taught him to love and reverence his country, in-
stead of making himself a despot, as most success-
ful generals do. But, at the bottom of all, was
the religious element. Religious principle con-
trolled his conduct both in private and public


Joseph Ritner, who was for some time a mem-
ber of the legislature of Pennsylvania, and after-
wards Governor of that state, was once a bound
boy to Jacob Myers, an independent farmer, who


brought him up. While he was governor, there
was a celebration of the fourth of July, at which
Mr. Myers gave the following toast: JOSEPH
RITNER -he was always a good boy, and has
still grown better; every thing he did, he always
did well; he made a good farmer, and a good
legislator; and he makes a very good governor."
All this man's greatness was the result of his
being a good boy.


Roger Sherman, in his public life, always acted
so strictly from his own convictions of what was
right, that Fisher Ames used to say, if he hap-
pened to be out of his seat in Congress when a
subject was discussed, and came in when the
question was about to be taken, he always felt
safe in voting as Mr. Sherman did, "for he always
voted right." This was Mr. Sherman's character
everywhere. But, if we inquire how it came
to be such we must go back to his early life.
Mr. Sherman's character was formed upon the
principles of the Bible. And, when he was an
apprentice, instead of joining in the rude and vul-
gar conversation, so common among the class to
which he then belonged, he would sit at his work
wtih a hok before him, devoting every mouipa


to study, that his eyes could be spared from the
occupation in which he was engaged. When he
was twenty-one years of age he made a profession
of religion. He was as familiar with theology as
he was with politics and law. He read the Bible
more than any other book. Always, when he
went to Congress, he would purchase a copy of
the Bible, at the commencement of the session,
to read every day; and when he went home, he
would present it to one of his children. Mr.
Macon, of Georgia, said of him, that he had
more common sense than any man he ever knew.
Mr. Jefferson, one day, as he was pointing out
to a friend the distinguished men in Congress,
said of him, "That is Mr. Sherman, a man who
never said a foolish thing in his life." Mr. Sher-
man was a self-educated man, a shoemaker, and
a Christian. He was brought up, after the old
New-England fashion, in a pious Connecticut
family. And, as was the boy, so was the man.
If you would be a good man, you must be a good
boy. If you would be a wise man you must be
a studious boy. If you would have an excellent
character, it must be formed after the model de-
lineated in the Holy Bible. The basis must be
a change of heart. The superstructure must
be laid up on the principles of God's word.



Y Filial Piety, I mean the
exercise of those feelings of
reverence, submission, and love;
0 and the faithful and conscien-
tious discharge of those du-
ties, which children owe their
1 parents.
S o The first duty which man
0 owes, is to God; the second, to his
Parents. They are his appointed
0 gguardians, in the season of helpless-
ness and inexperience. God has
entrusted him to their care; and in
o o
Return for that care, he requires honor
and obedience. A child cannot be pious
toward God without being pious to-
ward his parents. The corner stone of a good
character must be laid in piety towards God; the
rest of the foundation, in piety towards Parents.
Show me the boy that honors his parents, and I
will show you the man that will obey the laws of
his country, and make a good citizen. Show me


the boy that is disobedient to his parents, and
turbulent and ungovernable at home, and I will
show you the man that will set at naught the
laws of his country, and be ready to every evil
work. When a boy ceases to respect his father
or to love his mother, and becomes tired of home
and its sacred endearments, there is very little
hope of him.


When George Washington was about fourteen
years of age, he wanted to join the Navy. Ac-
cordingly, all the arrangements were made for him,
in company with several of his young compan-
ions, to go on board a man of war. When the time
arrived, he went into the' sitting-room, to take
leave of his mother. He found her in tears.
He threw his arms about her neck and kissed her,
and was about bidding her farewell;" but seeing
her so much afflicted, he suddenly relinquished
his purpose. The boat which was taking officers,
men, and baggage, from the shore to the ship,
went back and forth, in his sight. At length it
came ashore for the last time. A signal flag
was raised to show that all was ready. George
was standing, viewing all these movements.
Several of his companions now entered the boat,


and as they approached the ship, signal guns
were fired; and soon after, the sails rose majesti
cally, one after another. George could no longer
bear the sight, but entered the room where
his mother sat. Observing that his counte-
nance bore a strong expression of grief, she said,
"I fear, my son, that you have repented your
determination to stay at home and make me
happy." My dear mother," he replied, placing
his arms round her neck, and giving vent to his
feelings in a gush of tears, I did strongly wish
to go; but I could not endure being on board the
ship, and know that you were unhappy." He
was young, ardent, and ambitious, and had doubt-
less anticipated, with great delight, the pleasure
he should have, in sailing to different places, on
board a man of war; and, although the expecta-
tion of pleasure which boys sometimes indulge, in
the prospect of a sea-faring life are delusive ; yet,
it was a noble generosity to sacrifice all the high
hopes he had cherished, to the feelings of his

Obey God rather than man.

As a general thing, it is the duty of children
to obey their parents; but, when a parent com-
mands what is wrong, the child should not obey.


A poor woman told her son to cut down a large
pear tree, which stood in the garden of the cot-
tage where they lived, for firewood, as they were
suffering from cold. They boy made no answer.
His mother repeated her command; but he still
hesitated, and said, "Mother, I ought to obey
you, but I must first obey God. The tree is not
ours. It belongs to our landlord; and you know
that God says, 'Thou shalt not steal.' I hope
you will not make me cut it down." She yielded,
for the time; but after suffering from cold a day
or two longer, she told him he must cut down the
tree. He then said to her, "Mother; God has
often helped us, and supplied our wants when we
have been in trouble. Let us wait till this time
"to-mornow. Then, if we do not find some relief,
though I am sure it will be wrong, yet if you
make me do it, I will cut the tree in obedience to
your command." To this she agreed. The boy
retired to his closet, and prayed earnestly that
God would help them, and save him from being
compelled to break his law. The next morning,
he went out and found a man whose wagon had
broken down under a heavy load of coal He
told the man his case, who agreed to let him carry
away the coal, and they might pay for it, if they
were able, when he called for it. But he never
called. It is always safe to do right.


A son's love.

A man in Sweden was condemned to suffer
death for some offences committed while he held
a public office. He had a son, about eighteen
years of age; who, as soon as he heard of it,
hastened to the judge and begged that he might
be allowed to suffer instead of his father. The
judge wrote to the king about it; who was so
affected by it that he sent orders to grant the
father a free pardon, and confer upon the son a
title of honor. This, however, the son refused to
receive. "Of what avail," said he, could the
most exalted title be to me, humbled as my family
already is in the dust ?" The king wept, when
he heard of it, and sent for the young man to his

Filial piety rewarded.

Frederick, king of Prussia, one day rung his
bell, and nobody answering, opened the door and
found his page fast asleep. Seeing a letter in his
pocket, he took it out and read it, and found it
was a letter from his mother, thanking him for
having sent a part of his wages to relieve her
wants. The king was so much pleased that he


slipped a bag full of ducats into the young man's
pocket, along with the letter.

Filial Tenderness.

A young man, newly admitted to the military France, would eat nothing but bread
and soup, and drink nothing but water. He was
reproved for his singularity; but still he would
not change. He was finally threatened with be-
ing sent home, if he persisted. "You will not,
I hope, be displeased with me," said he to the
Principal of the institution; "but I could not
bring myself to enjoy what I think a luxury,
while I reflect that my dear father and mother
are in the utmost indigence. They could afford
themselves and me no better food than the coars-
est of bread, and of that but very little. Here
I have excellent soup, and as much fine wheat
bread as I choose. I look upon this to be very
good living; and the recollection of the situation
in which I left my parents, would not permit me
to indulge myself by eating any thing else."

Filial impiety punished.)

God has promised long life and prosperity to
the child that honors his parents. Of course,


this promise is not meant to be absolute; for
many die before they have an opportunity of
obeying the command, and others are taken away
for wise reasons. But, as a general principle,
the promise is verified. On the contrary, the
word of God declares, "The eye that mocketh at
his father, and scorneth to obey his mother, the
ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and the
young eagles shall eat it;" meaning that God
will visit with sore punishment those that despise
and ill-treat their parents. Boys, when they be-
gin to approach manhood, are very apt to think
themselves wiser than their parents, and to be
restive and turbulent under restraint. Two
young men in England, the sons of pious and
Wealthy parents, wanted the family carriage to
ride out and seek their pleasure on the holy
Sabbath. This being repeatedly refused, they
resolved to resent it; and accordingly went off
with the determination to go to sea. Their father
sent word to Rev. Mr. Griffin, of Portsea, re-
questing him to find them, and try to persuade
them to return. He did so; and among other
things, urged the feelings of their parents; who,
after watching over them with so much care and
tender anxiety, must now see all their hopes
blasted. This touched the heart of the younger,
tid he consented to return; but the elder was


obstinate. The carriage, he said, had been re-
fused, he had made up his mind to go to sea, and
to sea he would go. Mr. Griffin then requested
the young man to go with him to his house, and
he would get him a ship that he might go out as a
man and a gentleman. This he declined, giving
as a reason, that it would make his parentsJfd
to have it said that their son went out as a com-
mon sailor; as a common sailor, therefore, he
would go. "Is that your disposition?" said Mr..
Griffin; then, young man, go; and while I',y,
God go with you, be sure your sin will find you
out, and for it God will bring you into judgment."
The younger son was restored to his parents,
while all traces of the elder were lost, and he
was mourned for as for one dead.
After a considerable time, a sailor called on
Mr. Griffin, and informed him that there was a.
young man on board one of the ships in the har-
bor, under sentence of death, who wanted to see
him. What was his astonishment, on finding the
young man, who had gone to sea to be revenged on
his parents for refusing him a sinful indulgence,
a prisoner, manacled and guarded! "I have sent
for you," said the young man, to take my last
farewell of you in this world, and to bless you for
your efforts to restore me to a sepse of ay duty.
Would to God that I ha jken yowuAie; kAt


it is now to late. My sin has found me out, and
for it God has brought me into judgment." Mr.
Grifin spent some time with the young man in
conversation and prayer; and then hastened to
London, to see if he could not get him pardoned.
But, when he arrived there, the warrant had al-
ready been sent for the young man's execution.
He returned home, and arrived on the morning
that the young man was to be executed. Within
a few minutes after his arrival came a pardon,
with which he hastened to the ship, where he met
the young man's father, in the greatest agony, as
he was returning from taking, as he supposed, his
last farewell of his son. Mr. Griffin entered the
vessel at the moment when the prisoner, pinioned
for execution, was advancing towards the fatal
spot. In a few moments, he was restored to the
embrace of his father. Thus he suffered shame
and ignominy, and the agonies of death, as a pun-
ishment for his disobedience to his parents;
though, in consequence of his penitence, his life
was spared.

Think how you will feel when your parents
are gone.

A young man was lamenting the death of a
most affectionate- parent. His companions, to


console him, said that he had always behaved to
the deceased with tenderness, duty, and respect.
" So I thought," he replied, while my parent
was living; but now I recollect with pain and
sorrow, many instances of disobedience and neg-
lect, for which, alas, it is too late to make any
atonement." If you would avoid this bitter re-
flection, ask yourself, when disposed to do any
thing that will grieve your parents, "With what
feelings shall I think of this, when they are dead
and gone ?"

benefitt of Obedience. )

A boy wishing, one afternoon, to go with some
other boys, on a sailing excursion, asked permis-
sion of his mother, which was not granted.
After a severe struggle in his mind between incli-
ation and duty, he gave up his anticipated pleas-
ure, and remained at home. The other boys
went. A sudden flaw of wind capsized their
boat, and two of them were drowned. The boy,
when he heard of it, was much affected, and said
to his mother, After this I shall always do as
you say."

Reward of Disobedience.;
Another boy was charged by his father, a he


was going away, to be gone a few days, not to
go on the pond. Saturday, being his holiday, he
asked permission of his mother to go a skating.
She told him he might skate about in the fields
and by the sides of the road, on such patches of
ice as he could find; "but," said she, "be sure
you do not go on the pond." He went out; and
contrary to the strict charges he had received
from his parents, he went on the pond. He
thought there was no danger; for the ice was a
foot thick. But there was a place that had been
cut open to get ice, where he and his companions
fell in, and he was drowned !
Some years ago, a boy in Woburn, named
William Wheat, came to a terrible end in conse-
quence of disobedience to his parents. Three
Sabbaths before his death, he left the Sabbath
School, and went to a public house-a place
where no boy should go, on any day, unless sent
on business. The next Sabbath, his teacher re-
proved him, and he was very angry, and declared
it was the last time he should ever enter the Sab-
bath School; which proved true. The next
Sabbath, he did not go; and the following Wed-
nesday, he got an old gun barrel, which his pa-
rents had repeatedly forbidden him to meddle
with, and charging it with powder, applied a luci-
fer match, to "fire off his cannon," as he called


it. The gun burst and killed him instantly.
Here was a boy of a turbulent ungovernable
disposition, despising the authority of his parents
and the law of God. He only came to the end
to which the road, in which he walked, naturally
Boys should never attempt to set up their own
judgment against that of their parents. When
a parent denies the requests of his children, he
does it, not to deprive them of pleasure, but be-
cause he sees a good reason for it. If the child
submits, he will one day see that his parents had
a good reason, although he could not then per-
ceive it. Let this reflection silence all murmur-
ing: "My father and mother know better than I."
The truth of this is clearly proved in the fore-
going cases.

Conscientious Obedience.

Some children obey their parents because it is
right, and because they love them. This is true,
conscientious obedience -the obedience of the
heart. And those who render to their parents
this kind of obedience, will be just as careful to
obey them, when out of their sight, as in their
presence; and they will be careful not to
evade their commands. They only want to kz*


the wishes of their parents, promptly to obey
The shouts of half a dozen children were
heard from the piazza of one of the large board-
ing houses at Saratoga Springs 0 yes; that's
capital! so we will! Come on now! there's
William Hale Come on, William, we're going
to have a ride on the Circular Railway. Come
with us?" "Yes, if my mother is willing. I
will run and ask her," replied William. 0, 0!
so you must run and ask your ma. Great baby,
run along to your ma! Ain't you ashamed?
I did n't ask my mother." "Nor I." "Nor I,"
added half a dozen voices. "Be a man, Wil-
liam," cried the first voice, come along with
us, if you don't want to be called a coward as long
as you live. Don't you see we are all waiting ? "
William was standing with one foot advanced,
and his hand firmly clenched, in the midst of the
group, with flushed brow, flashing eye, compress-
ed lip, and changing cheek, all showing how the
epithet coward rankled in his breast. It was
doubted, for a moment, whether he would have
the true bravery to be called a coward rather
than do wrong. But, with a voice trembling
with emotion, he replied, I will not go without I
ask my mother; and I am no coward either. I
promised her I would not go from the house with


out permission, and I should be a base coward, if
I were to tell her a wicked lie."
In the evening, William was walking in the
parlor, among the crowd, with his mother, a
Southern lady, of gentle, polished manners, who
looked with pride on her graceful boy, whose fine
face was fairly radiant with animation and intel-
ligence. Well might she be proud of such a
son, who could dare to do right, when all were
tempting him to do wrong.

Cheerful Obedience, Sullen Obedience, and
When children are away from home, they are
bound to obey those to whose care their parents
have entrusted them. Three boys, Robert,
George, and Alfred, went to spend a week with
a gentleman, who took them to be agreeable,
well-behaved boys. There was a great pond
near his house, with a flood-gate, where the water
ran out. It was cold weather, and the pond was
frozen over; but the gentleman knew that the
ice was very thin near the floodgate. The first
morning after they came, he told them they might
go and slide on the pond, if they would not go
near the flood-gate. Soon after they were gone,
be followed them to see that they were safe.


When he got there, he found Robert sliding in
the very place where he had told him not to go.
This was disobedience outright. George was
walking sullenly by the side of the pond, not so
much as sliding at all, because he had been for-
bidden to venture on the dangerous part. This
was sullen obedience; which is, in reality, no
obedience at all, because it comes not from the
heart. But Alfred was cheerfully enjoying him-
self, in a capital long slide, upon a safe part of
the pond. This was true obedience. Suddenly,
the ice broke where Robert was sliding, he im-
mediately went under water, and it was with diffi-
culty that his life was saved. The gentleman
concluded that Alfred was a lad of integrity, but
that his two brothers were not to be trusted.
Obedience secured him happiness, and the confi-
dence of the kind gentleman with whom he was
staying; while the others deprived themselves of
enjoyment, lost the gentleman's confidence, and
one of them nearly lost his life; and yet, to slide
on the dangerous part of the pond would have
added nothing to their enjoyment. They desired
it from mere wilfulness, because it wasforbidden.
This disposition indulged, will always lead boys
into difficulty; and if they cherish it while boys,
it will go with them through life, and keep them
always "in hot water."




Sergeant Glanville.

USTOMS vary in different
countries. In England, when
a man dies without making a
will, his property goes to his
eldest son. Mr. Glanville,
who lived in the days of
Charles II., had an eldest son,
who was incurably vicious;
and seeing no hope of reforming
him, the father gave his property
to his second son. When Mr. Ser-
Sgeant Glanville died, and his eldest
son learned what was done, he became
Greatly dejected, and in a short time
his character underwent an entire
change. When his brother perceived
this, he invited him and a party of his friends to
a feat After several dishes had been served,


he ordered one, covered up, to be set before his
brother; which on being opened, was found to
contain the writings that conveyed to him the
estate. This, he remarked was what he was sure
his father would have done, had he lived to wit-
ness the happy change which they saw.

Generosity of an elder brother.

Mr. H- an ingenious artist, for want of
employment, was reduced to great distress, and
applied to his elder brother, who was in good
circumstances, and begged some little hovel to
live in, and some provision for his support. His
brother was melted to tears: "You, my dear
brother," said he, "you live in a hovel! You are
a man; you are an honor to the family. I am
nothing. You shall take this house and estate,
and I will be your guest, if you please." The two
brothers lived thus affectionately together, as if it
had been common property, till the death of the,
elder put the artist in possession of the whole.
How happy every family of brothers would be,
if they would thus share with each other l1 they
have! It would save all disputing about mine
and thine. Every one would be equally pleased
that his brother was enjoying any thing, as if he
had it himself.



R. Wilson, passing late one
evening by a blacksmith's
shop, and hearing the sound of
the hammer much later than
S usual, stepped in to inquire the
Cause. The man told him that
Z* one of his neighbors had just
been burned out, and had lost
every thing; and he had underta-
* ken to work an hour earlier in the
morning and an hour later at night
to help him.
1 "This is kind, in you," said Mr. Wil-
e* son; for I suppose your neighbor will
never be able to pay you again."
1* "I do not expect it," replied the
blacksmith; "but if I were in his situation, and
he in mine, I am sure he would do as much for
The next morning, Mr. Wilson called and
offered to lend the blacksmith fifty dollars without
interest, so that he might be able to buy his iron


cheaper. But the man refused to take it, but
told Mr. Wilson that, if he would lend it to the
man whose house was burned down, it would go
far towards helping him rebuild his cottage. To
this, Mr. Wilson consented, and had the pleasure
of making two men happy.

Michael Verin.

Michael Verin, a Florentine youth, was always
foremost; and his compositions being more cor-
rect than those of any other boy in school, he
always obtained the first prize. One of his
school-fellows, named Belvicino, studied hard
night and day, but could never get the prize.
This grieved him so much that he pined away
and grew sick. Verin was strongly attached to
Belvicino; and, discovering the cause of his ill-
ness, he determined to remove it. The next com-
position day, he made several faults in his Greek
version. Belvicino's was judged the best, and
he took the prize. This so delighted him that he
quickly recovered his health and spirits. But
he would never have known to whom he was in-
debted for his success, had not the preceptbr
pressed Verin to tell him why he had made such
palpable faults in his composition.



N old man was busily em-
ployed in planting and graft-
ing an apple tree. Some one
passing by, rudely accosted
him with the inquiry, Why
do you plant trees, who can-
not hope to eat the fruit of
them?" The old man raised
himself up, and leaning on his
spade, replied, "Some one planted
trees before I was born, and I have
eaten the fruit; I now plant for oth-
S ers, that the memorial of my gratitude
may exist when I am dead and gone."
It is a very narrow, selfish feeling that
confines our views within the circle of
our own private interests. If man had been made
to'live for himself alone, we may justly conclude
that every one would have been made by himself,
and his bounds marked out, so that he might live
alone. But since God has made us to ive in


society, he designs that we should be helpful to
each other. The truly ingenuous, benevolent
mind, takes more pleasure in an act which
will confer blessings upon others, than in one
that terminates on himself. The selfish man
wraps himself in his cloak, and cares not for the
sufferings of others, so that he keeps warm him-
self. This old man, however, remembered how
much he was indebted to those who had lived
before him, and resolved to pay his debts. If
we would look around us, we should find our-
selves indebted to others, on every side, for the
comforts which we now enjoy first to God, and
under him, to those whom he has employed as
his agents to give them to us. Ought we not,
then, to strive in some measure to repay these
obligations, by doing something to promote the
happiness and well-being of others ? Who gave
us the Gospel? The missionaries, who preached
the gospel to our Saxon ancestors, and the Re-
formers, who opened the treasures of God's word,
when they were hid under the rubbish of Popish
superstition. Ought we not, then, in return for
this, to send the blessed gospel to those who are
now destitute? Who gave us our civil and reli-
gious liberties? Our fathers who braved the
ocean and the wilderness to establish it, and the
sword of the mother country to maintain it.


Ought we not, then, to transmit this precious boon
to our posterity ? And so in whatever direction
we look, we shall find some blessing for which we
are indebted to the noble generosity, public spirit,
or christian benevolence of others. Let us return'
the blessing, with interest, into the bosom of
others. Dr. Franklin, having done a favor to
some one, and being pressed with thanks, request-
ed the person whom he had obliged to embrace
the first opportunity of doing a kindness to some
other person, and request him to pass it round, as
all mankind are friends and brothers. A greater
than he has said, "It is more blessed to give
than to receive."

Thomas Cromwell.

Francis Frescobald, a rich Florentine mer-
chant, had become noted for his liberality to the
needy and destitute. A young Englishman.
named Thomas Cromwell, the son of a poor man.
had gone into Italy with the French army, where
he found himself in a destitute condition. Hear-
ing of the liberality of Frescobald, he applied to
him for aid; who, having inquired into his cir-
cumstances, took him to his house, clothed him
genteelly, and kept him till he had recovered his
strength. He then gave him a good horse, with


sixteen ducats of gold in his pockets ; with which.
after expressing his gratitude to his benefactor.
he made his way home. After his arrival in
England, he was taken into the service of Car-
dinal Wolsey, who was then the favorite of King
Henry VIII., and his Prime Minister. After
the death of the Cardinal, Cromwell became the
King's favorite; who made him a baron, a vis-
count, Earl of Essex, and finally, lord chancellor
of England.
Frescobald the rich Florentine merchant, by
repeated losses both at sea and on the land, was
now reduced to poverty. Some English mer-
chants, however, were owing him fifteen thousand
ducats, and he. came to England to collect the
money. The lord chancellor, as he was riding to
court, met him in the street, and immediately
alighted and embraced him; and without waiting
for his old friend to recognize him, invited him to
dine with him. Frescobald, after recollecting
himself, concluded it must be the young English-
man whom he had assisted, and therefore com-
plied with the invitation. When the chancellor
returned from court, with a number of the nobil-
ity, he introduced them to the merchant, and
related the story of the assistance he had received
from him in a time of need. After the company
were gone, Cromwell inquired of Frescobald


what had brought him to England, who related
to him his misfortunes. "I am sorry for them,"
said he; "and I will make them as easy to you
as I can. But, because men ought to be just
before they are kind, it is fit I should repay the
debt I owe you." Then leading him to a closet,
he took out sixteen ducats and gave them to
Frescobald, saying, "My friend, here is the
money you lent me at Florence, with ten pieces
you laid out for my apparel, and ten more you
paid out for my horse; but, considering that you
are a merchant, and might have made some ad-
vantage by this money in the way of trade, take
these four bags, in every one of which are four
hundred ducats, and enjoy them as free gifts of
your friend." These Frescobald would have re-
fused, but Cromwell forced them upon him. He
then took the names of his debtors and the sums
they owed, and sent his servant to demand their
payment in fifteen days. In a short time, the
entire sum was paid. During this time Fresco-
bald lodged at Cromwell's house; and the latter
would have persuaded him to remain in England;
But he chose to return to Florence. Here is a
fine illustration of that passage of Scripture,
which says, Cast thy bread upon the waters, for
thou shalt find it after many days."


Lending to the Lord. ,

Solomon says, "He that hath pity on the poor
lendeth unto the Lord; and that which he hath
given will he pay him again." The following
anecdote affords a very striking illustration of the
truth of this passage:
In the year 1797, as Mr. M. was travel-
ling among the mountains in Vermont he was
overtaken by a thunder shower, and sought shelter
in a small house, on the borders of a great forest.
On entering the house and finding no one but a
woman and her infant he apologized, and asked
the privilege of stopping till the shower was over.
The woman said she was glad to have him come
in, for she was always terrified by thunder. The
gentleman told her she need not be terrified at
thunder, if she only trusted in God. After con-
versing with her some time on this subject, he
inquired whether she had any neighbors, who
were religious. She told him she had neighbors
about two miles off, but whether they were reli-
gious or not, she could not tell. She heard that
they had preaching there once a fortnight, but
she never attended their meetings. She appear-
ed to be extremely ignorant on the subject of


religion. The rain had now passed over, and all
nature smiled. The traveller, as he was about
to leave, thanked the woman for her kindness,
and expressed to her his earnest desire for the
salvation of her soul, and besought her to read
the Bible daily, and give diligent heed to its in-
structions. But she, with tears in her eyes, con-
fessed that she had no Bible. They had never
been able, she said, to buy one. Could you read
one if you had it?" he inquired. She said she
could, and would be very glad of the privilege.
"Poor woman," said he, I do heartily pity you:
As the traveller was preparing to go, he thought
to himself, This woman is in very great want
of a Bible. 0 that I had one to give her But
I have not. As for money to buy one, I have
none to spare. I have no more than will be ab-
solutely necessary for my expenses home. I
must go: but if I leave this woman without the
means to procure the word of God, she may per-
ish for lack of knowledge. What shall I do?"
These passages of Scripture then came to his
mind, He that hath pity on the poor lendeth to
the Lord." "Cast thy bread upon the waters, for
thou shalt find it after many days." He said in
his heart, I will trust in the Lord." He took a
dollar from his purse, went back and gave it to


the woman, telling her to buy a Bible with it.
She promised to do so, and said she knew where
one could be obtained.
The traveller set out, and when night came he
took lodgings at a private house. He had a little
change left, but as he had two days more to
travel, he thought he would make his supper on
a cold morsel, which he had with him. But,
when the family came to the table, he was urged
to take a seat with them, and invited to ask a
blessing. He now began to feel himself among
friends, and at liberty to speak of divine things;
and the family seemed gratified in listening to his
conversation. In the morning, he offered to pay
for his lodging, but the people would take noth-
ing. He travelled on, till late in the morning,
when, finding no hotel, he stopped at a private
house for breakfast. While waiting, he lost no
time to recommend Christ to the family. When
ready to depart, the mistress of the house would
take nothing for his breakfast, or the oats, which
his horse had eaten. And so he went on, asking
for and receiving refreshment when he wanted it,
and offering to pay for it, as any other traveller
would do; but no one would take any thing, al-
though they did not know but he had plenty of
money. "What does this mean?" said he to
himself. I was never treated in this manner on


a journey before." He recollected the dollar he
had given the poor woman, and the passage of
Scripture, which induced him to do it, and said, I
have been well paid. It is indeed safe lending
to the Lord." On the second day after he left
the cottage in the wilderness, he arrived safely at
home, having been at no expense on the way.
The Lord has the control of all events. The
hearts of all men are in his hands. It was He
who inclined the hearts of the people to be kind
and hospitable to his servant, and to ask no pay
for what they gave him.
About a year and a half after this, a stranger
called at Mr. M.'s house, and asked for some
refreshment. In the course of their conversation,
Mr. M. asked the stranger whether the people
in those parts where he lived paid much atten-
tion to religion.
"Not much," he replied; "but in a town
twenty or thirty miles distant, there has been a
powerful revival. The commencement of it was
very extraordinary. The first person that was
awakened and brought to repentance, was a poor
woman, who lived in a very retired place. She
told her friends and neighbors that a stranger
was driven into her house by a thunder storm,
and talked to her so seriously, that she began,
while listening to his discourse to feel concerned


about her soul. The gentleman was much affect-
ed, when he found she had no Bible; and after
he had left the house to go on his journey, return-
ed again, and gave her a dollar to buy one; and
charged her to get it soon, and read it diligently.
She did so; and it had been the means, as she
believed, of her salvation. The neighbors won-
dered at this; and it was the means of awaken-
ing them to a deep concern for the salvation of
their souls. As many as thirty or forty are re-
joicing in God their Savior." Mr. M. who had
listened to this narrative, with his heart swelling
more and more with wonder, gratitude, and joy,
could refrain no longer; but with hands and eyes
raised to heaven, exclaimed, My God, thou hast
paid me again! "
When we lend to the Lord, he always pays us
with "good measure, pressed down and running

An Indian story.

In the early settlement of this country a
strange Indian arrived at an inn in Litchfield,
Connecticut, and asked for something to eat; at
the same time saying that, as he had been unsuc-
cessful in hunting, he had nothing to pay. The
woman who kept the inn, not only refused his


reasonable request, but called him hard names.
But a man who sat by, seeing that the Indian
was suffering for want of food, told her to give
him what he wanted at his expense. When the
Indian had finished his supper, he thanked'the
man, and assured him that he should be faithfully
recompensed, whenever it was in his power.
Some years after this, the man had occasion to
go from Litchfield to Albany, where he was taken
prisoner by the Indians, and carried to Canada.
Some of them proposed that he should be put to
death; but an old woman demanded that he
should be given to her, that she might adopt him
in place of a son, who had been killed in the war.
This was done, and he passed the winter in her
family. The next summer, while he was at work
alone in the woods, a strange Indian came and
asked him to go to a certain place on a given
day, which he agreed to do; though he had some
fears that mischief was intended. His fears in-
creased, and his promise was broken. But the
Indian came aghin and renewed the request. The
man made another engagement, and kept his
word. On reaching the spot, he found the Indian
provided with ammunition, two muskets, and
two knapsacks. He was ordered to take one of
each; which he did, and followed his conductor.
In the day time, they shot the game that came in


their way, and at night, they kindled a fire and
slept by it. But the Indian observed a mysteri-
ous silence as to the object of their expedition.
After travelling in this manner many days, they
came to the top of a mountain, from which they
saw a number of houses in the midst of a culti-
vated country. The Indian asked him if he
knew the ground, and he eagerly answered, It is
Litchfield The Indian then recalled to his
mind the scene at the inn, and bidding him fare-
well, exclaimed, "I am that Indian! Now I
pray you go home."

Example of Disinterested Benevolence. -

A traveller in Asia Minor, in a time of dis-
tressing drought, found a vase of water un-
der a little shed by the road-side, for the re-
freshment of the weary traveller. A man in
the neighborhood was in the habit of bringing
the water from a considerable distance, and filling
the vase every morning, and then going to his
work. He could have had no motive to do this,
but a kind regard to the comfort of weary travel-
lers, for he was never there to receive their
thanks, much less their money. This was benev-



EV. Dr. Witherspoon, Presi-
dent of New-Jersey College,
once gave out Politeness, to a
division of one of his classes, as
a subject for composition. The
young gentlemen were delight-
ed with it; and when the time
came for reading, some of them
A expatiated upon it largely, leared-
ly, and politely. After they had
all read, they waited for the Presi-
dent to sum up their observations,
and then state his own views. But, he
told them, he should only give them a
a short definition, which they might al-
ways remember. POLITENESS," said
This is the sum and substance of all true polite-
ness; and if my readers will put it in practice,
they will be surprised to see how every body will
be charmed with their manners.


Good Breeding.

GASSENDI was a youth of such extraordinary
abilities and attainments as to command univer-
sal admiration; but in his' manners he was gen-
erally silent, never ostentatiously obtruding upon
others his own knowledge. He was never in a
hurry to give his opinion before he knew that of
the persons who were conversing with him. He
was never fond of displaying himself.
I knew a young man whose behavior was di-
rectly the opposite of Gassendi's: a compound
of ignorance, self-conceit, and impudence. He
was forward to talk in all companies. His opin-
ion, on all subjects, was cheap a gift that went
a-begging. He could tell the farmer how to till
the soil; the mechanic how to use his tools ; the
merchant, how to make his gains; the doctor,
how to cure his patient; the minister, how to
preach; and the cook, how to bake her bread.
He wanted only a pair of long ears to complete
his character.



OME boys are mean enough
to ridicule others for natural
defects, for which they are not
to blame; and it is a very com-
mon thing to consider the color
of the skin as a mark of infe-
riority. But even if it were so,
it would be no ground of re-
proach, for it is the color which
God gave. Mr. Southey, the poet,
relates that, when he was a small
boy, there was a black boy in the
neighborhood, who was called Jim Dick.
Southey and a number of his play fel-
S lows, as they were collected together
one evening at their sports, began to tor-
ment the poor black boy, calling him "nigger,"
" blackamoor," and other nicknames. The poor
fellow was very much grieved, and soon left them.
Soon after, these boys had an appointment to go
a skating, and on that day Southey broke his


skates. After all his rude treatment of poor
Jim, he was mean enough to go and ask him to
lend his skates. "0 yes, John," Jim replied," you
may have them and welcome." When he went to
return them, he found Jim sitting in the kitchen
reading his Bible. As Southey handed Dick his
skates, the latter looked at him with tears in hi;
eyes, and said, "John, don't ever call me black
amoor again," and immediately left the room
Southey burst into tears, and from that time re
solved never again to abuse a poor black -a
resolution which I hope every one of my readers
will make and never break. But, if you will fol-
low the example of this poor colored boy, and
return good for evil, you will always find it the
best retaliation you can make for an injury.

The converted soldier.

A soldier in the East Indies, a stout, lion-look-
ing, lion-hearted man, had been a noted prize-
fighter, and a terror to those who knew him.
SWith one blow he could level a strong man to
the ground. That man sauntered into the mis-
sion chapel, heard the gospel, and was alarmed.
He returned again and again, and at last, light
broke in upon his mind, and lie became a new crea-
ture. The change in his character was marked


and decided. The lion was changed into a lamb.
Two months afterwards, in the mess-room, some
of those who had been afraid of him before began
to ridicule him. One of them said, I'll put it to
the test whether he is a Christian or not;" and tak-
ing a basin of hot soup, he threw it into his bosom.
The whole company gazed in breathless silence,
expecting that the lion would start up, and
murder him on the spot. But after he had
torn open his waistcoat, and wiped his scalded
breast, he calmly turned round and said, "This
is what I must expect: If I become a'Christiaxi,
I must suffer persecution." His comrades were
filled with astonishment. This was overcoming
evil with good. If the reader will follow this
man's example, he will save himself a world of

The forgiving school boy.

In a school in Ireland, one boy struck another;
and when he was about to be punished, the injured
boy earnestly begged for his pardon. The master
inquired why he wished to prevent so deserved a
punishment; to which he replied, that he had
read in the New-Testament that Jesus Christ said
we should forgive our enemies; and I forgive him,
and beg he may not be punished for my sake."



T is a great advantage to any
one to have the confidence
of others, so far that his
word will always be taken for
the exact truth. This confi-
dence is to be acquired only
by always speaking the truth;
and especially, by adhering so
closely to the fact that people will
not only believe that we mean to
speak the truth, but that they will
feel confident that we have neither
mistaken the facts, nor added any color-
ing, nor kept back any thing, to make it
appear different from the reality. The
following story shows how great an ad-
vantage one may derive from having this confi-
dence in his strict veracity established:
Petrarch, the celebrated Italian poet, by his
strict regard for truth, secured the unbounded
confidence of Cardinal Colonna, in whose family


he resided. A violent quarrel broke out among
the Cardinal's numerous family of servants,
which ended in a fight. The Cardinal, in order
to investigate the affair, and punish the offenders,
assembled all his people and put them under oath
to tell the whole truth. Every one took the oath,
not excepting the bishop of Luna, the Cardinal's
own brother. Petrarch, in his turn, presented
himself, but the Cardinal closed the book, saying,
"As to you, Petrarch, your word is sufficient."
Our readers will perceive how great an advan
tage it will be to them to have always such a
strict regard to the exact truth, that their word
will be considered as good as an oath.

Remember the bright side. \

When Peter the Great heard any one speak
ing ill of another, he would inquire, "Is there
not a fair side, also, to the character of the per-
son of whom you are speaking? Come, tell me
what good qualities you have remarked about
him." If, in speaking of others, we should look
always at the fair side, and see what good things
we can say of them, it would make us feel bet-
ter towards them; it would be doing them a ser-
vice instead of an injury; it would tend to make
peace, rather than foment strife.



HEN Washington appointed
the hour of twelve to meet
Congress, he never failed to
be passing the door of the
hall while the clock was
striking twelve. His din-
ner hour was four o'clock.
If his guests were not there
at the time, he never waited for
them. New members of Congress,
who were invited to dine with him,
would frequently come in when
dinner was half over; and he would
say to them, Gentlemen, we are punc-
Stual here. My cook never asks whether
the company has arrived, but whether
the hour has." In 1799, when on a visit to Bos-
ton, he appointed eight o'clock in the morning as
the hour when he would set out for Salem.
While the Old South clock was striking eight, he
was mounting his horse. The company of cavr


airy, who had volunteered to escort him, was pa-
rading in Tremont street, and did not overtake
him till he had reached Charles River Bridge.
On their arrival, the General said, "Major, I
thought you had been too long in my family not
to know when it was eight o'clock."

Samuel Wesley, Esq.)

Samuel Wesley, Esq., was one of the greatest
musicians of his age. His musical powers were
developed while he was a child, and excited the
greatest admiration. But he was as great a lover
of regular habits as of song. No company or
persuasion could keep him up beyond his regular
time for going to bed. For this reason, he could
seldom be persuaded to go to a concert in the
night. The moment the clock struck eight, away
ran Samuel, in the midst of his most favorite
amusement. Once he rose up from the first part
of the Messiah, saying, "Come, mamma, let us
go home, or I shan't be in bed by eight." When
some friends talked of carrying him to the queen,
and his father asked him if he was willing to go,
he replied, "Yes, with all my heart; but I won't
stay beyond eight." This was a wise resolution;
for children are sadly injured, by being kept up
Slate at night.


Five minutes too late.

The following amusing sketch, though perhaps
fictitious, gives a pretty faithful picture of many
a man's life:
"When a child, I was scolded for being too late
at school; when a boy, I was cuffed and kicked
for being too late at my work; and when a man,
I was turned away for being behind my time on
a particular occasion when my services were
My uncle Jonathan was well to do in the world.
and as his nephews were his nearest relations, we
had reason to expect that his property would
come among us. lie had, however, one peculiar-
ity, which effectually shut his door against me.
He never was five minutes too late in an appoint-
ment in his life, and thought most contemptuously
of those who were. I really believe that I was
a bit of a favorite with him until my unfortunate
failing justly offended him.
He had occasion to go a journey, and I was
directed to be with him at seven in the morning,
to carry his portmanteau to the coach. Alas I
was Five minutes too late," and he had left the


Knowing his particularity, I hurried after him,
and running till I could scarcely stand, arrived at
one end of the street just in time to see the coach
go off with my uncle at the other. Dearly did I
pay for being Five minutes too late."
My Uncle did not return for a month, and cer-
tainly showed more forbearance toward me than
he was ever known to do on a similar occasion;
for in a letter he stated, that if I could be punc-
tual, he should wish me to meet him on his return,
to take charge of his portmanteau, and thereby
make some amends for my misconduct. Off I
set, but knowing that coaches frequently arrive a
quarter of an hour after their set time, I thought
a minute or two could be of no consequence.
The coach unfortunately, was horridly exact,"
and once more I was after my time, just "Five
minutes too late."
"My Uncle Jonathan never forgave me, fully
believing that I had done it on purpose to get rid
of the trouble of carrying his portmanteau.
Years rolled away, and I was not so much as
permitted to enter the door of my Uncle Jona-
Time, however, heals many a sore, and while
it ruffles many a smooth brow, smooths many a
ruffled temper. My Uncle Jonathan so far re-
lented, that when about to make his will, he sent


to me to call upon him exactly at ten o'clock.
Determined to be in time, I set off, allowing my-
self some minutes to spare and pulling out my
watch at the door, found that for once in my life
I had kept my appointment to the second. The
servant, to my surprise, told me, that my Uncle
Jonathan had ordered the door to be shut in my
face for being behind my time. It was then I
found out my watch was too slow, and that I was
exactly Five minutes too late."
"Had I been earlier on that occasion I might
have been provided for, but now I am a poor
man, and a poor man I am likely to remain.
However, good may arise from my giving this
short account of my foolish habit, as it may pos-
sibly convince some of the value of punctuality,
and dispose them to avoid the manifold evils of
being Five minutes too late."
Few young persons are sensible of the impor-
tance of punctuality, because they are not aware
of the value of time. But time is money; and
to rob a man of his time, by obliging him to wait
beyond the appointed hour to meet your engage-
ment with him, is equivalent to robbing him of
so much money as he could have earned in the
lost time. The habit of punctuality must be
acquired early. Be punctual in the family and
school, and you will be a punctual man.



UARRELLING generally
Arises from selfishness and an-
ger. Selfishness is grasping.
It respects not the rights of
others. It will yield none of
its own. The selfish person is
therefore continually coming
in conflict with others; and, as
impediments are thrown in the
way of his gratification, his pas-
sions are roused. Anger is a spe-
S cies of insanity. When one yields
to his passions, he loses self-control.
He takes an enemy into his bosom, and
suffers himself to be nosed about by him
at will. No one can tell what dreadful
thing he may do when once he gives a loose rein
to his passions.
"The beginning of strife is as the letting out
of waters." When you open a little drain to a
pond of water, it runs slowly at first, in a very


small stream; but the body of water above rushes
into the channel and wears it deeper, and that
increases the pressure and widens it still more,
till presently the whole body comes pouring forth
in an irresistible torrent. One dry season, in
the summer, a man in Vermont, who owned a
mill, on a small stream near a large pond, found
his water failing, so that his mill was likely to
stop. To prevent this, he collected together a
few of the neighbors, and dug a little trench from
the pond to the stream that carried his mill. At
first it ran very slowly and quietly along, All it
began to wear away the channel, and to turn the
force of the body of water in the pond in that
direction, when it increased violently, tore away
the banks, and poured the whole contents of the
pond into the little stream, carried off the mill,
and rushed on with impetuous fury through the
valley, sweeping away fences, bridges, barns,
houses, and every thing that came in its way.
At a place called Brag Corner, in the State of
Maine, a small stream falls into the Sandy river,
on which a superior grist-mill was erected a few
years since. The stream not affording water
enough, a pond containing fifty or one hundred
acres, having no outlet, and lying two hundred
feet above the level where the mill stood, was
connected with the stream that carried the mill


by an artificial canal. The water of the pond
began to gully away the gravel over which it
was made to run, and having formed a regular
channel, defied all human control, and, in the space
of six hours, cut a ravine seventy feet deep, and
let out the whole pond, sweeping away the mill,
foundation and all, and carrying away a house
and blacksmith's shop, which stood near, not giving
the owner time to save any thing of consequence
from his house.
Such, Solomon says, is strife. When you be-
gin to quarrel, you know not where it will end.
It not unfrequently terminates in the death of one
of the parties, as in the following case: A boy
about eleven years of age, son of Mr. Philip
Petty, of Westport, R. I., took his father's gun,
as he said, to go a gunning. His elder brother
attempted to take it from him. A quarrel en-
sued, between the two brothers, and in the course
of the scuffle, the gun went off and lodged the con-
tents in the younger one's bowels. He lingered
a few hours in great agony and died. How
must the other one feel, to think that the quarrel,
which he began, led to the death of his brother.
How much safer to take Solomon's advice, and
"leave off contention before it be meddled with."


Danger of Indulging anger. '"

Frederick Jones was the son of a rich manu-
facturer. His father being engrossed in busi-
ness, the children were left to the care of their
mother, who, being a weak woman, did not re-
strain them as she ought. There were four, but
three of them died; and Frederick being left the
only child, was indulged still more. At a very
early age he showed his angry temper; and he
became such a little tyrant that the very dogs
and cats about the house were afraid. of him.
Once, when he was three years old, he insisted
that he would have the silver tea-urn, to drag
about the room by a string for his coach. And,
because his mother refused to let him do so, he
seized her cap and tore it from her head.
When Frederick was ten years old, he went
into the kitchen, where the servants used to let
him do as he pleased for fear of his dreadful tem-
per; for they called him "Mamma's pet lion."
He had not been long there before he upset the
table, knocked down the shovel and tongs, and
broke several plates. Not satisfied with this, he
collected all the tin things in the middle of the
floor, and began battering them with the tongs.


The cook, not being very well pleased with this
destruction, undertook to lead him out of the
kitchen. But the little fury, by shrieking and
scratching, got free, and seizing a fork, he threw
it at the cook, which struck her in the eye and put
it out. Thus, by the foolish anger of this little
boy, a poor woman lost the sight of her eye en-
tirely. This shows the danger of indulging angry
passions; for no one knows what a dreadful deed
he may commit in a fit of anger. It shows also
the danger of throwing things at others. It is a
very dangerous practice, and sometimes leads to
the loss of life.
A little while after this, Frederick was playing
at the front door of the house, when a boy passing
on the other side of the street, called out, Hallo,
Master Fred., have you put any more people's
eyes out lately?" This was enough to make
him angry. He immediately picked up a large
stone, and chasing the boy some distance, threw
it at him with all his might. The boy was out
of the way of the stone, but it struck a large
bull-dog, which, naturally enough, concluded that
he was unjustly attacked, and turning upon Fred-
erick, gave him a severe bite in the leg, and toss-
ed him into the gutter. Frederick roared aloud
with pain and rage, and had to be carried home
to his bed, where he lay for several weeks. But


nobody pitied him. The people who heard of it,
knowing his temper, thought the dog had done a
praiseworthy act.
After this, Frederick's father sent him to a
boarding school, about twenty miles from home, to
a very strict master. Here he was in continual
broils with his school-fellows. There was scarce-
ly a boy in the school with whom he did not have
a fight. But generally he came off with a bleed-
ing nose or a black eye, because his passions took
away his strength, and the other boys were an
overmatch for him. His school-mates generally
did not like to fight; but this angry boy would
fly at them for the most trifling thing, and force
them to defend themselves.
Frederick's father died before he was twenty
years of age; and as he loved amusement better
than business, he sold the manufactory, and trav-
elled in Europe; where he was very dissipated,
and fought two duels, in both of which he was
wounded. During his absence, his mother had
become a good woman; and on his return, he
found her company disagreeable. She entreated
him to break off his evil courses. But this only
made him angry. To get rid of her reproofs, he
left her and went to one of the Western States.
There, while he was engaged at a public house,
with some of his wicked companions, talking


politics, one of them called him a liar, and he
drew out his dirk and stabbed him to the heart.
He ran away from the place, but the image of
the murdered man haunted him day and night,
and made him wretched. He gave himself up to
intoxication, and at the age of twenty-three years,
fell into a drunkard's grave, some time after his
mother had died of a broken heart on his ac-
count. All this came upon Frederick, in conse-
quence of not restraining his passions while a
boy. His violent, ungovernable temper might
have been subdued, when he was a child; but by
indulgence it increased in strength, till it became
perfectly unmanageable.

Be kind to your sister.

The following affecting story, which is given
in the language of the brother himself, will ad-
monish every boy who reads it, to be kind to his
sisters, and especially to avoid blows on the head,
as it is probable the blow given this little girl by
her brother was the cause of her death. What
a shame for a brother to strike his sister!
One morning in my early life, I remember to
have been playing with my younger sister, not
then three years old. It was one of those bright
mornings in spring, that bring joy and life to the


heart, and diffuse gladness and animation through
all the tribes of living creatures. Our feelings
were in perfect harmony with the universal glad-
ness of nature. Even now I seem to hear the
merry laugh of my little sister, as she followed
me through the winding alleys of the garden, her
cheek suffused with the glow of health and anima-
tion, and her waving hair floating in the wind.
She was an only sister, the sole companion
of all my childish sports. We were constantly
together; and my young heart went out to hers,
with all the affection, all the fondness, of which
childhood is capable. Nothing afforded me en-
joyment in which she did not participate; no
amusement was sought which we could not share
That morning we had prolonged our play till
near the hour of breakfast, with undiminished
ardor, when at some slight provocation, my im-
petuous nature broke forth, and in my anger, I
struck my little sister a blow with my hand. She
turned to me with an appealing look, and the
large tears came into her eyes. Her heart was
too full to allow her to speak, and shame made
me silent. At that moment the breakfast bell
summoned us away, and we returned to the house
without exchanging a word. The excitement of
play was over, and as she sat beside my mother


at breakfast, I perceived by occasional stolen
glances at her that she was pale and sad. A tear
seemed ready to start in her eye, which her little
self-possession could scarcely repress. It was
only when my mother inquired if she was ill,
that she endeavored to eat. I was ashamed and
grieved, and inwardly resolved to embrace the
first opportunity when we were alone, to throw
my arms round her neck and entreat her forgive-
When breakfast was ended, my mother retired
with her into her own room, directing me in the
meantime to sit down to my lesson. I seated
myself by the window, and ran over my lesson,
but did not learn it. My thoughts were perpet-
ually recurring to the scene in the garden and at
table. It was long before my mother returned,
and when she did, it was with an agitated look,
and hurried step, to tell me that my poor Ellen
was very ill. I asked eagerly if I might go to
her, but was not permitted, lest I should disturb
her. A physician was called and every means
used for her recovery, but to no purpose. The
disease, which was in her head, constantly in-
creased in violence, and she became delirious.
It was not until evening that I was permitted to
see her. She was a little recovered from the
severity of her pain, and lay with her eyes closed,


and her little hand resting on the pillow beneath
her head. How I longed to tell her the sorrow
I felt for my unkindness to her in the morning
and how much I had suffered for it during the day.
But I was forbidden to speak to her, and was soon
taken out of the room. During that night and
the day following, she continued to grow worse.
I saw her several times, but she was always
insensible of my presence. Once indeed, she
showed some signs of consciousness, and asked
for me ; but immediately relapsed into her former
On the morning of the third day, I rose at
an early hour, and repaired to the sick room.
My mother was sitting by the bed. As I entered,
she drew me to her, and for some time was silent,
while the tears flowed fast down her face. I first
learned that my sweet sister was dead, as my
mother drew aside the curtain that concealed her
from me. I felt as though my heart would break.
The remembrance of her affection for me, and
my last unkind deed, revived in my mind; and
burying my face in the folds of the curtain, I wept
long and bitterly.
"I saw her laid in the coffin, and lowered into
the grave. I almost wished to lie down there
with her, if so I might see once more her smile
and hear my forgiveness in her sweet voice.


"Years have passed away and I am now a
man--but never does the recollection of this
incident of my early life fail to awaken bitter
feelings of grief and remorse. And never do I
see my young friends exchanging looks or words
of anger, without thinking of my last pastime
with my own loved Ellen."

Teazing and being teased.)

Some children take great delight in teazing.
The way to avoid such annoyances is, to take no
notice of them. Respect yourself too much to
be disturbed by those who disregard the common
courtesies of life. If they find they cannot teaze
you, they will cease to make the attempt. The
late Dr. Bowditch (a man who attained to great
eminence, as a man of learning and science), was
the son of a poor sailor. His parents were so
poor that he was obliged to wear his summer
clothes to school, during the whole winter. His
schoolmates would sometimes laugh at him, be-
cause he wore such thin clothes. But they could
never make him angry, or disturb his equanimity.
All the notice he took of their jeers was, to laugh
at them for thinking that he was unable to bear
the cold. If you follow his example, you wil
never suffer much from being teazed.



0 you remember what Solo-
mon says about bad company?
"Enter not into the path of
the wicked, and go not in the
way of evil men. For they
sleep not except they have
done mischief; and their sleep
is taken away, unless they
cause some to fall."
Mr. Green, the Reformed Gam-
bler, relates that, at the age of six-
teen, he was laboring industriously,
in the city of Cincinnati, and saving his
wages. But he became acquainted with
a bad set of boys, who visited a ten-pin
alley. In his leisure hours, instead of
spending his time in reading and treasuring up
useful knowledge, he would frequent this den of
iniquity; and Sabbath days, instead of going to
meeting, he would go with the same set of boys
to a place of amusement and sin, a little way out


of the city. In a short time, this evil company
had erased every tender affection from his bosom.
On one of these misspent Sabbaths, he fell in with
a rough set of lawless boys, and got into a fight
with them, and was seen thus engaged by the
city marshal.
The next morning, a stranger, whom he met
at his boarding house, inquired of him respecting.
the different places of amusement in the city, and
he took him to the ten-pin alley, where he was in
the habit of going. While they were there, en-
gaged in bowling, a man came staggering in, to
all appearance, half drunk. He pulled out three
thimbles, and tried to find some one to play with
him for drink. This is a swindler's game, through
which he picks the pockets of fools, by persuad-
ing them to bet that they can tell under which of
three thimbles he places a ball. It is all a cheat.
The landlord played and won, and the man ap-
peared very angry; but this was only a bait, to
blind the eyes of the young men, and induce them
to bet. They were caught; and they lost what
money they had, Mr. Green two dollars, and the
stranger, twenty-five. They tried in vain to get
back their money. At length, the man who was
with Green went to the Mayor's office, and re-
lated the story; and the city marshal, having seen
Green the day before engaged in a fight, suspect-


ed that he was league with the gamblers, and
had him arrested; and though no proof was
brought against him, he was fined and sent to jail.
There he was kept for several months, in com-
pany with counterfeiters, murderers, highway-
men, and gamblers, whose principal amusement
was card-playing; when he was discharged pen-
niless, in rags, and with a bad character. This
was the commencement of his career of vice, his
reformation from which is the next thing to a
miracle. All this came upon him in consequence
of keeping bad company. Learn from it to avoid
evil company and betting. The boy that suffers
himself to bet the smallest amount, has already
*entered the downhill road of the gambler's career.
And there is no evil that can be named but he
may be drawn into, who begins to keep bad com-
pany. You might as well expect to go into a
lazarhouse, without being infected, as to go into
bad company, and not fall into evil habits.


Perhaps there is no bad company to which boys
are more exposed than the profane; and none
which is more corrupting. Young people insen-
sibly fall into the habits of those with whom they
associate. If they hear them interlard their con-


versation with by-words and oaths, they will be
strongly tempted to do the same. They will be-
gin, perhaps, with by-words and little oaths, which
show a disposition to be profane, without courage
to carry it out. But they will not long stop here.
They will soon overcome the chidings of con-
science, and then they can be as foul-mouthed as
any of their companions. This vice hardens the
heart, and prepares it for every other; for he
who despises God will despise man. He who
takes the name of God in vain, will not hesitate
to break all his commandments. Profaneness is
one of the meanest of all vices. It involves
every thing that is little and mean. It is treating
with the utmost indignity our Greatest Benefac-
tor. It is a kind of gratuitous wickedness; for
there is no motive for it but a disposition to do
evil. The profane boy is a dangerous companion.
He will lead you into you know not what mis-
chief and difficulty. The only way is to avoid
him, as you would a black snake, or a person that
has the small pox. If you go with him, he will.
most likely, lead you to ruin.

Washington's opinion of profaneness.

No gentleman will use profane language. It is
an outrage upon good manners. No one can be


called a gentleman, who is guilty of it. It is a
vice that has always been held in detestation by
the great and the good. General Washington
would never allow it in his army. In1757,
while a colonel, at Fort Cumberland, when he
was a young man, he issued an order, expressing
his "great displeasure," at the prevalence of
profane cursing and swearing, and threatening
those who were guilty of it with severe punish-
ment. The day after he took the command of
the Revolutionary army he issued a similar
order. In August, 1776, he issued another order
against this vice, in which he speaks of it as "a
vice so mean and low, without any temptation,
that every man of sense and character detests
and despises it." He also strictly forbade gam-
ing and drunkenness.

Howard's opinion of Swearers.

Howard, the Philanthropist, standing in the
street, heard some dreadful oaths and curses from
a public house opposite. Having occasion to go
across, he first buttoned up his pocket, saying to
a by-stander, "I always do this, when I hear
men swear, as I think that any one who can take
God's name in vain, can also steal, or do any
thing else that is bad."


God has set a mark upon this' vice. He not
unfrequently punishes it, by directly answering
the prayer that is profanely uttered. J. H. was
a notorious swearer. He had a singular habit of
calling on God to curse his eyes. After some
years, this awful imprecation was verified.- He
was afflicted with a disease in his eyes, which
terminated in total blindness. This so affected
his general system, that he gradually sunk under
it, and went to give up his account. A number
of similar cases, some of them still more awful,
you will find in the tract entitled, "The Swearer's

Playing Truant.

Playing truant when sent to school, is almost
always the means of getting into bad company;
and bad company leads to ruin. A boy thirteen
years old, was brought before the police court in
Boston, charged with stealing a gold pen from a
lawyer's office. He had been in the habit of
coming into the offices, in the building, and selling
apples. The gentleman from whom he stole the
pen had furnished him money to fill his basket;
and he returned his kindness by stealing his pen,
which was worth three dollars. His mother ap-
peared before the court, and plead earnestly for


her boy, saying that he was a good boy to her,
except that he played truant from school. He
-then got into the company of a gang of boys.
who peddle apples, a thievish set, and of
them he also learned to steal. He was sent to
the House of Reformation; which is a prison for
boys, where they are kept at work and study, but
not allowed their liberty.

Ruin of a Deacon's son.

Several years ago, a young man about twenty
years of age, filthy in his appearance, and shab-
bily dressed, called at the house of a clergyman
in the city of New York. His countenance,
though haggard, bore the marks of intelligence.
The young man said he had been at his church
the previous evening, and was desirous of having
some conversation with the minister. He was
requested to open his mind freely. He said he
was the son of a deacon of a Congregational
church in Connecticut. His father was a man of
property and influence, and he himself had al-
ways moved in the most respectable society. He
had come to New York in order to become ac-
quainted with business, and prepare himself for
an active and useful life. But he soon found
himself surrounded with new temptations, with-


out the restraining influences of home and friends.
He fell into bad company. His vicious asso-
ciates led him to the theatre, and when his pas-
sions were excited by what he saw, and stimula-
ted by intoxicating liquors, he was persuaded to
visit places of infamy and crime. These indul-
gences called for more money than he could hon-
estly obtain; but his appetites, once excited,
could not be easily restrained; and he had re-
course to his employer's money drawer to supply
the deficiency. He eased his conscience, in this
act, and deceived himself, with the hope of repay-
ing it before he was detected. But in this he
was mistaken. He was detected, tried, found
guilty, and sentenced to the penitentiary for six
months. He had now been out of prison a
week, during which time he had been wan-
dering about the city, ashamed to be seen or
known. He had come to ask advice. The
clergyman advised him by all means to go home
to his father; assuring him that it was his only
hope, for if he remained in the city, he would
fall into the company of his old associates and be
ruined. With the deepest agony, he exclaimed,
" How can I ever return to my father's house?
How can I ever meet him or the virtuous com-
panions of my youth? No! No! I am fallen-
disgraced! I have been a felon, and in prison


No, I would rather die a vagabond in the street,
than to see the face of my thther, or the faces of
the young people, who were my associates in the
days when I felt myself as good as they." He
was yet unhumbled. Hie was yet unwilling, like
the prodigal, to return to his father's house.
However, after much persuasion, he promised
that the next morning he would set off for home.
But he had not the moral courage to fulfil his
purpose. He was ashamed to arise and go to his
father. He continued to roam about the streets,
and was again detected in stealing.
This anecdote shows not only the danger of
bad company, but the peril of young men who
go from the country to the city to engage in
business. They had better remain at home,
unless their principles are firmly established upon
the foundation of true religion. There is noth-
ing to be gained in the city that is worth the
exposure of morals and character.

Bad Books.'

Books are company; and the company of bad
books is as dangerous as the company of bad
boys or bad men. Goldsmith, who was a novel-
writer of some note, writing to his brother about
the education of a nephew, says, "Above all


things never let your nephew touch a novel or a
romance." An opinion given in such a manner
must have been an honest opinion. And, as he
knew the character of novels, and had no nice
scruples on the subject of religion, his opinion
ought to have great weight.

An Example for boys.

A boy in London, in destitute circumstances,
was put out as an apprentice to a mechanic. It
is the business of the youngest apprentice to do
all the errands and drudgery of the establishment,
and frequently of his master's family also. He
was often sent by the workmen and older ap-
prentices, to procure intoxicating liquors for
them; of which all of them partook, except him-
self, because, as they said, it did them good. But
because he refused to drink he was made an ob-
ject of ridicule among them. They said he had
not sufficient manhood to drink rum. But he had
sufficient manhood to refuse to drink rum; and
it requires much more to refuse than to drink.
Nothing can be more false than the idea that it
is courageous and manly to fall in with the habits
and practices of those with whom we are obliged
to associate. It is a sign of cowardice rather
than of courage. The sheep is the most timid of