Title Page
 Andrew and his playmate
 Title Page
 The war-makers
 Title Page
 Little Mike

Title: Sketches for school boys
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00002798/00001
 Material Information
Title: Sketches for school boys in three parts
Physical Description: 124 p., <1> leaf of plates : ill. ; 15 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Flagg, John Dalton, b. 1823 ( Publisher, Printer , Stereotyper )
Publisher: John D. Flagg
Place of Publication: Andover Ms
Publication Date: 1853
Subject: Boys -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Quarreling -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Truthfulness and falsehood -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1853   ( rbbin )
Bldn -- 1853
Genre: Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding)   ( rbbin )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Andover
General Note: Each part has special title page.
General Note: Frontispiece is printed in color and signed "Major, N.Y."
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00002798
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002237593
oclc - 06635795
notis - ALH8082
 Related Items
Other version: Alternate version (PALMM)
PALMM Version

Table of Contents
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Andrew and his playmate
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
    Title Page
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
    The war-makers
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
    Title Page
        Page 103
        Page 104
    Little Mike
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
Full Text







I 853.




THE State Law of Massachusetts re-
quires. that all instructors of youth shall
exert their best endeavors to impress upon
the minds of the children committed to
their care and instruction, the principles of
piety, justice, and a sacred regard to truth,
love to their country, humanity, and uni-
versal benevolence, sobriety, industry, and
frugality, chastity, moderation, and temper-
ance, and those other virtues which are the
ornaments of human society, and the basis
upon which a republican constitution is


Those who ire engaged in a work so
arduous, will. doubtless, in itsi a complish-
ment, h ready to a vail themselves of every
instrumentality aalpled to the end, how-
ever humble. As an nid in this work, an
offering to tle great cause of education, a
serich of Sketchels" of which the following
is designed for the first. he~a been projected.
They ami intended to set forth, in snuh a
manner w: sh.al secure a pernial from the
class of miniil- for whlih I lthey ha'o lbeen
written, the duties trials, and temptations
of school lhfi; and to allure to right paths,
those who. in a few yoarw. will be the men
of their gencrtion, the moulders of its in-
stitutions, the framers of its laws.



Trans is a cheerful sound of young
voices in the streets of Boston, for it is the
hour for morning school. The summer
vacation has closed, and it is a mild, bright
day in the early autumn. In a retired
street, which leads to a very busy and
crowded one, there stands a iargo brick
school house, and the tramping of lively
footsteps tells that hundreds of boys are
hastening to their accustomed tasks. As
they turn the corner of the street, several
boys, large and small, linger at the shop


window, where are displayed to view a
large collection of toys. A strange, mon-
i key-looking image, making shoes, occupies
one side of the window, a large flaxen
headed doll in a pink silk dress sits opposite,
while between the two, the greatest nri-
osity of the whole, is a perfect little model
of the State House; piazza, dome, and
enpola, all are there.
"See those little steps," cries one boy,
"do they not look like stone steps ? "
1 Only look," cried mother, at those
green banks in the yard ["
Those and sundry other expressions of
delight fell from the lips of the boys, as
they gazed upon the beautiful array ren-
dered more attractive by newness. The
milliner that formerly kept there had just
moved. The boys lingered on their way
that morning for a few minutes; then
hastened on. It was school time, and
they did not choose to run the risk of be-
ing tate. Flocks of hoys came from all
directions to that corner, company after


company arrived, but in the midst of ga-
ing curiosity, it was evident that they had
learned the manly lesson of being pnctual,
prompt, always on hand to meet engage-
All hastened on, save Andrew Jameson,
a small boy who had stood at the outside
of the group. "You will be late, Drew,"
said a pleasant-looking boy, with mild dark
eyes. This was George Marshall, who
lived in the brick house that made the op-
posite corner. ome along," said he, at
the same time giving a gentle pull at the
sleeve of Andrew's blue gingham jacket
But Andrew took no notice, but remained
lounging at the window. Meantime the
other boy skipped rapidly along the side-
walk, and arrived at the school house door
jast as the clock struck. The next minute
he found himself ascending the broad stair-
as, making one of a streaof a s of boys, who,
under the guidance of two lads, larger than
most of the others, are making their way
to the school room. The teachers are al.
l I


ready in their desks. Five minutes more
are amply sufficient to bring all into place
and order, and the door is locked.
Where was Andrew ? With him the
expression I don't care," was a very com-
mon one; in fAet it came so often, and waq
applied on so inmny occasions, that some of
the more rude of the boysv nicknamed him,
and when he made his appearance, would
cry out, here comes t don't care. How-
ever rudely given, the name applied to
him only too well.
That morning, as George Marshall skip-
ped so gaily along the sidewalk, and took
his seatseafoaWy with the other boys, why
was not Andrew by his side ?' Not because
he did not know that he ought to be in
school, but because he did not care. He
heard the friendly ,ummnons of George, he
heard the loud striking of the clock from
the spire hard by. Had he not heard either,
still he would not have been ignorant, had
he been desirous of being punctual. When
at last he did start from his lounge and go


to the school, it was only to find the door
shut, as we have already said, and himself
locked out.
What shall Andrew do next? He lin-
gered at the door, and thought for a mo-
ment, while two or three others, like himself,
made their appearance.
SI will go home," said he, talking to
himself," and ask my mother for a note that
I may be excused."
But did he not, just at this moment,
hear the voie- of a little monitor within,
telling him that he ought not to do this?
Yes, he did: and he remembered too,
that he had observed his mother to he
busily engaged that morning; he knew
that she disliked to he interrupted when
busy, though she generally yielded to his
repeated requests. Ho knew that he ought
certainly to take the consequence of being
late (in that school it was a particularly n-
popular thing to ardy e hardy theboys thought
it a disgrace to fail in punctuality;) bt
Andrew, indifferent boy as he was, seemed

to have never been in a more careless
mood than on that morning. So he strolled
towards home.
At the door he met the rosy, good-na-
tured face of cousin Martha, who assisted
his mother.
"Why Andrew," said she, "what has
sent you home "
SI was late," said he, "and want mother
to write me a note"'
"But she has gone down to the old widow
Woodman's, who is just dying; she will
not return this hour; so you had better go
directly back to school."
"No, I will not," said Andrew, displeased
with himself, and consequently with his
consin. "I tell you I will not go;" so
throwing down his straw hat and green
satchel, with some violence, into the corner
of the room, he seated himself rather sul-
lenly, without speaking for some time.
Andrewlooksand feels unhappy- he saun-
ters into the yard swings on the gate -
then lies down on the sunny door-step-


he is ill at ease-he knows he has been
to blame.
His mother returned in the middle of the
forenoon. She was much displeased, par-
ticularly as it so happened that she was
quite certain her careless son had started
for school in season. She did not, however,
insist upon his going then, it was so late.
Andrew expected her displeasure as a mat-
ter of course; but was pretty sure that she
would not insist upon his going then to
school. True, his memory recalled what
his mother appeared to have forgotten,-
a certain promise made under similar cir-
cumstances that he should certainly be
sent back. But he had learned the pre-
cious lesson that his mother's power of re-
membrance might sometimes fail, her re-
solves be sometimes broken. So that fore
noon Andrew stayed at home.
Afternoon cnme,-again the boys were
seen going to school, again they stopped at
the toy shop, again Andrew came very near
being late. He but just escaped, and took

his seat with the others. Mr. Norton, the
teacher, glanced his eye over the quiet
room, observed if all was in order,
then commenced the business of the after-
The bovy may write," said the teacher.
Then immediately began the distribution
of writing materials. They were handed
around by George Marshall, Andrew's
friend of the morning. With a light step
he glided from dcsk to desk, and with a
quick hut gentle movement, placed before
each boy a writing hook. A few minutes
more, and at a signal from the desk,
the whole e wer engagcte in waiting. The
teacher walked up and down the aisle, be-
tween the desks; sometimes he saw a boy
who did not hold his pen aright, then he
would take hold of his hand, and give it
the proper position. Again, he would sit
down in some boy's seat, and show him by
example how to sit, how to move hiq hand,
and how to place his book. Each one felt
that he was observed, and his progress was


noted, and therefore ialimot the whole took
pains that the teacu'hr should find a con-
stant improvement.
But presently hle comes to a boy, who,
idle amid the general industry, is sucking
his fingers
Well, Andrew J.mncon," for it is no
other, why do you 0no t rite "'
'Ha'nt got no pen," said Andrew; for
his nhait of universal carele ssness, his
"do n't cre"' spirit aitted everything that he
did, and also many things that he said, and
not only caused him to forget his pen, but
also his propriety of speech.
"Where i, your pen ?"
At home.
"And why leave it there ?"
"I f argt t," said Andrew, hanging his
head at the recollection of the very many
times he had offered the same excuse. To
do him justice, he did feel a little ashamed.
Mr. Norton took up Andrew's writing
book, turned hack one leaf from the copy
last written ;-an ugly blot deformed it.

This might have been accidental, but on
the opposite page was another blot corres-
ponding exactly to the first. Here again
appeared Andrew's spirit of carelessness;
for having made one blot, he had thought-
lessly closed the book and inmde another.
Turning back a leaf or two or more,
there were seen near the bottom of the
right hand page, some irregular, black-
looking letters the marks were extremely
heavy and large. The teacher said nothing,
but Andrew would fain excuse himself.
"My pen was bad," he began.
Mr. Norton pointed to the opposite page,
whehere the corresponding imperfect forms
of the letters were plainly seen.
"Did the bad pen make these too?"
asked he.
Andrew did not reply, and the boys
who sat near looked at each other and
The teacher passed on. At a signal
from the desk every boy stopped writing,
wiped his pen and laid it away. The same


civil, bright-looking boy who distributed
the books, now gathered them again, and
all were in place, awaiting for the next
summons from the teacher.
A class is called upon to read -An-
drew's class : they begin one after
another reads -presently it is Andrew's
turn-he has lost his place, he has been
leaning listlessly over his deck, apparently
attending, but his book ah he has but
just perceived that it is upside down. He
shuffles the leaves, peeps over the shoulder
of his next neighbor to see where the
place is; the boy by his side roguishly
covers the top of the page of his own book
with his hand.
The head boy may name the page," said
the teacher. In a clear, distinct voice
George Marshall named the page. Andrew
turns to it with some hesitation and begins
to read. He comes to a word a little harder
than the rest, stammers- then succeeds in
giving a tolerable pronunciation. But di-
Srectly he comes to another; he hesitates
I .. .


again-at last stops-trieq again-pro-
nounces it so oddly that the lboys laugh-
You maIy spell it," saidi tie teach her, and
Andrew began to spull. So by stoppitln
and slulnl liimg .nd spelling, lie mado out to
read a pa ralgaTih When the lhisoous wenr
to Ih recited hi% failurhrs were still wore.
Thle Ocoiaphy el.ts are up. Sevcui.d
questions ihave leIn .Ie sked tand iTnwere'd.
For what," 4afd t!he .Lu.JiM, *adiressing
himself to Andreiw, is the pat or Ther-
mopyla cclubiatedl Now Andiirw know,
nlotlhidg or tlie leso, he has not cared
enough al~hot it vien to look at it. lint
a boy who biLs behind lmin wlikpers, for
the stand rumadic hey prid.ts with thilee
hundred Greeks against the I'e rsin ariny
Andrew's prompter, however. did rIot wish
to Ie dit-oveired, so he whi peivd very
softly, and Andrew only cmIght rhe word
standdm" and tlit imperfectly. Believing,
that he had, th i thl in thi en wity,
come into posesiion of tc answer, he

Lpokc up boldly, "jfor sand."


"FoR AND!" said Mr. Norton, in a
tone very low, yet so distinct that every
boy heard it, at the same time fixing his
clear, penetrating eye upon Andrew.
"Yes, sir," said the other; hut dimly
perceiving the somewhat peculiar manner
of the teacher, and hearing the unreprcmscd
merriment of the hoys, he added, in a tone
quickened into defiance, C -- told
Iee so."
You depend, then," said the teacher,
with a look of deep displeasure, "upon
your neighbors for your lessons. You may
sit down."
And yet nothing would have displeased
Andrew more than to have been called
mean or nngenenrus. But then he every
day allowed this spirit of carelessness so to
take possession of him, as to lead him to
the performance of very unbecoming deeds.
It savored something of meanness, surely,
to lend his ear to the wlhiperings of a
prompter, but having availed himself of


the service, to expose the one who had
aided him, showed more of selfishness than
of that generous frankness which always
looks, and speaks, ad beams in the bear-
ing and deportment of a noble-hearted boy.
But -had these suggestions been made to
Andrew, he probably would have replied,
"I didn't think." Iis indifferent spirit
seemed to affect every thing connected
with him, otherwise he had many goad
qualities. His mother had taken great
pains to instruct him. Whether she had
been equally as persevering in requiring
him to do the right as she had been solici-
tons that he should know it, might admit of
a question.
Few boys had listened to more moral
instruction than Andrew. Clothed in the
gentle accents of maternal love, it is true,
but possibly wanting in that higher and
more noble exercise which can resolutely
deny itself the pleasure of granting indul-
gence when indulgence would be evil, and
calmly enforce that principle of obedience,


which lies at the foundation of all virtue.
At school, also, Andrew had received much
attention; but here, perhaps, more than
any where else, his great failing became
visible, in the constant, petty interruptions
which he e e to standing regulations.
Careless of every thing elis, he was not
likely to be over careful to preserve order.
Few more difficult things are boys ever re-
quired to do, than uniformly to preserve
that quiet and gentle manner which, when
a large number are assembled together, is
necessary for the good of the whole; alike
for their comfort and improvement. 1
can never study in school, there is always
such a noise," says one. I learn all my
lessons at home," says another, because
I can never understand what I study in a
noise." Such and simitr complaints are
constantly made by the pupils of imper-
fectly regulated schools, where confusion
and discord are suffered to appear. Not
so, however, at Mr. Norton's. That was
a remarkably quiet school, owing to the


unceasing care of its head. It seemed to I
the boys, more especially that part of them
who required to be watched. having no
constant and restoring love for doing
right, that his eye was everywhere in the
room Each felt that all were continually
One day the keen eye of the master
rested upon one of his pupsk, whose habit
of thoughtless transgression seemed in-
nrable. lie watched ifor some tine his
scholar, who semrned to have forgott en n-
tirely that he was in school At hst their
eyes met.
"Andrew," bsad Mr. Norton, "that dis-
I turhance to whi h I have baen listening
I came from you."
SThe careless Andrew did not know the
length of time for which he had been ob-
served, and replied boldly, "No, sir."
"Yes," said the other, "voil have been
talking for several minuteA, and just now
whistled through that broken pon.case
which ,ou hold in Your hand."


"No, sir"
"But, Andrew," said Mr.Norton calmly,
"you did."
"I didn't; you may leave it to him,"
turning to the next boy.
This was spoken by Andrew in that fierce
and hurried tone which o, natural to the
accused person who would fain clear him-
Sself, even hy an nttrulth.
"11 have no wish," replied the teacher, in
a manner more deliberate than usual even,
"to leave it to any one; my own eyes saw
you." Then. after ai slight pause.h e added,
S"You ihave mll rifird-lirst oder, then
truth. You may take your looks and ,go
to your home for the rrof he day
I shall send a mnesseiger in at few minutes
to inform your mother why you are seut
from school."
"I can tell her myself," Said Andrew,
and here it was I ifirult to asiy whether his
manner was that of utter carelessness or of
intentional rudeness.
Mr. Norton was much displeased with


Andrew, and replied, "I shall send a mes-
songer to your mother; I have had proof
enough to-day that you do not care even to
speak the truth."
lAndrew hzad lnut just reached his home,
having loitered a few nminite and wai sti!l lingering on the thiresIlolld,
When (,eoolae h rrb.dl mnnde his apprar-
What did ion come for I" said Andrew;
Sdid Norton send you ?" Hle did not care
enough for hatil was proper, to 8ay MAr.
No0 ton.
GCorge assented.
"Now don't you go to my motr er, will
you, Georgy ithiat' a gooI fellow
George said nothing, but took fiomn his
vest pocket a note, which he held up.
Andrew perceived that it was addressed to
his mother-
"Now, now. Georgy, just let me have
that," said Andrew.
George makes no reply, hut perceiving-
that Andrew has no immediate intention


of going into the house, with a decisive
motion he pulls the door-bell, and the door
is opened almost instantaneously by An-
drew's mother.
"Mr. Norton sends you this note,ma'am,"
said George. She cast her eye upon An-
drew, then upon the note, which she read.
"How 1 am mortilied," said she, ad-
dressing Andrew, "at your carelessness!
You cannot he allowed to stay in school
with other boys; go directly to your
Andrew hesittes and lingers; but this
time his mother was decided. You never,"
said she, "do anything as soon as you are
told." Andrew's mother was, as she had
said, greatly mortified, and her feelings
by that means, somewhat aroused; but her
remark was strictly just. Andrew was
greatly in the habit of never doing imme.
diately the thing he was told. So fixed
indeed had the habit become that it seemed
a part of his nature. Immediately upon
the delivery of the note, and upon reception

of the assurance from Mrs. Jameson that
Andrew should not be allowed to go out
that day, George Marshall took his leave,
and in f.at was hail way back to the
school Mfore the other had concluded to do
as he was hidden. But his mother at last
obliged him to go, assuring him that he
should not leave hi% room for the remnaindcr
of the day.
Andrew had leisure that afternon to
think on his way', anidl glad should we le
to record that Ihn' made r igeoou ue of it.
But if he linl rehilv, ihmpr ned I hoe, hours
of sprl ension, lhe wOiull noti hate itl n Cfen
lhe next dvay lolling on hli r't. plav'tingl
with a Ktrint with a huiton tied tI The tui*d
of it. '['heireo a monitor ih loninl ill If-
quire hilm in Iive it iup. Ne' hle w." plda with bits of pilier, hi-, Iloock lVint
besrile him. oMn to e esur, buti n% el
looked at. "You iunut giver u p le pa|l-
pers," gavys the moniitor. (with, a liitie |pi ule
of liuthliity. "it is ligainnt the irul oil hl
school to pily wihll then


Andrew submits; but presently, with-
out appearing to know What he is about,
he goes to play with his fingers. Very
soon he will he lleHed to recite; but that
abundant leisure e which was compelled
to have the afternoon before has done him
little good.
His lesion is negelited, and-but we
will not follow hhn through his recitations-
Swe will not listen to has qtamrnerings, his
helihitationcs,i failures, het will hasten on
to orher events.
IThe lhou iln whin.h Anldrw lived was
an old-ft :s oledd one. with a Hine large
yard bhy tih' al' f it t- hfiow Ie in the
croillded (irv hall iso muth pl.iy giound.
At the upper inl of lthi yard stood a
smal nlll unt i-e, hose, illh a gaihle rool';
a narrow walk imiade Io planks l~aling
up directly iv lon thil sde of the yard
Opposite thle la-rr hous., to the door of
the smaller buildiisg. I this house no
one lived it hliad blen empty somen time.
That afternoon which Anlrew lsent in his


chamber, he saw a boy, somewhat larger
than himself, not much taller, but stouter
and thicr, and apparently considerably
older, walk up the planks, try the door,
and, not succeeding in opening it, go
around the small house, peeping in the
lower windows, and trying by every means
to get a knowledgeo of the premises Not
succeeding in entering the houqe, he went
away. Presently, however, he returned,
and with him a middle-aged lady of pale
and worn aspect, dressed in showy, hut
rather faded garments. She gave the boy
a key, and lie readily opening the front
door, hoth went in.
Presently there came up the yard a girl
ahont Andrew's sizc. lier nice calico
dress wal much tumbled and soiled; her
hair, partially curled, escaping from be.
neath her straw bonnet, hung in rather a
diorderly manner about her neck. In
one hand she carried a hoop, and a stick
to drive it, and in the other she had an
orange, which she was eating. Finding


the door unfastened, she entered the house,
the whole party having been closely
watched by Andrew.
After a few minutes, however, they came
out, and when he had seen them lock the
door and go away, he thought not much
more about it.
The next day, however, on returning
from school, he saw a furniture wagon
partly unloaded; a portion of ita contents
was alrceaTy carried into the small house
and a trlbl and sone chairs were standing
just within the gate. The girl that An-
drew lhad seen the day before, was also
staInlitl at the gu'n, cooking on. while the
stout boy was in the iact of receiving two
chairs from the man who handed them
to him from the wagon. Displeased at
the man for something, just as Andrew
came up, the other uttered a dreadful oath.
Even thhe heedless Andrew started with
surprise, shocked at what he heard. We
have, it will he remembered, already said
that few harys were better informed than


he, as to what should be, though few were
more reckless in the matter of putting in
practice the instructions received.
"Who are these?" said Andrew to a
schoolmate who was with him
Why,don't you know him that's Nick
Saunder; that's a good one! I thought
everybody with two eyes knew him. lHe
stole a lobster, the other day, from Mr. I',
new provision store; he ran around the
co inr of the street, and wias just breaking
of the claws, when the owner found him
and made him give it up
"And that girl," said Andrew, "who is
What, her with the torn frock and tum-
bled hair that is his sister Annette. Did
you never see her' Why, she plays with
all the boys about.
"The other day she went down by
the lumber yard, where we boys were
tilting. She sat on one end of the board,
and Toni Stewart on the other. They
had filit-l-te tilt hut just as Annette


was away up, WRACK! went the board,
right in the middle, and Annette came
down to the ground quicker than a wink.
We thought she was killed, and were
frightened enough ; but she jumped up,
picked up her bonnet, which had fallen off.
and ran home
Andrew laughed. a good deal interested
in the account of his new neighbors.
"The oheer night," continued his com-
panion, "when her mother sang at the
theatre, she got in there, and stole a gold
pencil. I saw her one day with two gold
rings, but she would not tell any one where
she got them Theie! she has them on
her fingers now."
When Andrew went into the house, lie
told his mother all that he had heard of
Annette and her brother.
"1 have heard hnm swear myself," said
Andrew's mother, "and think that you had
better not get acquainted with him."
"But how can I help it, mother, if he
lives in the same yard 7"


"You cannot help it entirely," said his
mother, "but you had better not he inti-
mate with him." But a boy who is indif
fervent to his lesson, and 'don't care" to
improve his time or to please his teacher,
is not likely to be very careful to obey his
mother. It was not long before he became
acquainted with Nick. That very afternoon,
when Andrew, having returned from school,
was sent by his mother to the grocer's, the
two boys met.
"What do they all come to' said An-
drew's new neighbor, as he took from the
counter a loaf of bread, and a couple of
small parcels in brown paper.
"Forty-eight cents."
"Well, call it fifty on your book. and let
me have a couple of these cakes," said
Nick, pointing to a large glass case, which
occupied the cud of the counter, next to
the street, and was filled with a variety of
pies and baker's cakes.
Old Mr. Rand, the grocer, loved to
oblige his young customers, but this re-


quest did not look quite right, and his
earnest look when he replied to Nick, "I
cannot do that," prevented that nprinci-
pled boy from repeating his request. So,
taking up the articles which he had bought,
he proceeded home. Andrew overtook
him just as he arrived at the gate- This
was the beginning of their acquaintance.
Curiosity to know something of the strange
boy led Andrew to forget entirely what his
mother had said, and, not to conceal any-
thing, we are obliged to add, that he had
hastened after Nick, and sought opportu-
nty to communicate with him Indeed,
situated as Andrew w.t, it would have
required some pains not to have associated
with his new neighbor, and an indifferent
boy does not love to take pains. Nick
loved mischief, and he loved to lead others
into it also. A fitter subject then he could
not have found, than this same careless
Andrew. Many were the hours Andrew
spent with his new friend, as heedless of
his mother a if she had not been alive.


Did he know whose command he broke ?
Did he know who has said "Honor thy
father and y thy mother" Mot assuredly
he did know, but he did not think. Had he
thought, he would have been afraid thus to
dishonor hit parents for does not the
disobedient child ever do this'
"But evil is wrought by want of
thouighl" And let the boy who does not
think, or who. in other word%.s do not cair
to obey his father and mother, and thus
honor them, know that he has taken one
step in that downward and sliding path,
whose end no man knoweth, the path of
One Saturday afternoon, when Andrew
returned from school~ he found his father
and mother preparing to leave home. lie
saw his father's valise in the entry, and
started hack, as, on entering the parlor, ihe
saw his mother dressed in black.
Andrew," said ste as he entered, "I
have heard that your grandmother is





Andrew stopped short in what he was
going to say, for he dearly loved his grand-
mother. Presently he asked: "Are you
going away, mother?"
The funeral will take place to-morrow,"
said she, "and we are going to take the
cars to ."
"May I go with you, mother?" said
"No, my child, I have no time to get you
rcady to go; we must hasten immediately,
but I think I can trust you at hoz~ with
your cousin Martha, who is to take care
of things till we return, which will be on
Monday, I think. Be careful to keep out
of the war of Nick as much as you can, for
I am sudly afraid that one day he will get
yol into trouble."
"Miv I go down to the cars?" said
"Yes, you may." said hi father. "and
yoll may carry my valise, if it is not too
heavy for you. I have a call to make


before I leave town," added he, turning to
Mrs. Jameson, "and will meet you at the
Well pleased to be employed, Andrew
trudged off with the valise in his hand,
and on their way to the cars his mother
again enjoined him to take good care of
himself till her return. Mrs. Jameson was
no sooner seated in the cars than she
was joined by Andrew's father. In a few
minutes they started, and, as Andrew saw
the train gliding swiftly away over the
long bridge, he looked wistfully after it till
it was quite out of sight, and then, with a
sedate and thoughtful aspect, he returned
home. He was alone--he remembered
the happy hours which he had spent at
the abode of his grandmother, the aged
form, and gentle, though time-worn con-
tenance, so familiar to his sight, and who,
more than any other earthly being, had
inspired him with love and veneration. He
remembered that she was dead. Thick,
thronging images came to his boyish


thoughts, sweet remembrances of that
cottage home by the ocean side, the tall
well-sweep, the neat little garden patch he
had helped to weed. summer-day sports,
when he had bathed in the white, dashing
surf. and gathered the rounded, and, as
he thought, beautiful pebbles, from the
smooth, lonely beach. Such sports do
not boy aas always love-perfect berty to
roam the whole day under the open sky,
and, regardless of danger, to climb the
towering cliff, and venture out on some
old and sea-girt rock. These enjoyments
had often, at intervals, been Andrew's,
and now they passed in sudden review
before his mind. Nor were his thoughts
wholly of the scenes of his country sports.
Ilas quickened memory recalled many and
many a memorial of kindness and love.
They came, mangled with that so often
heard, mild, and trcmulou; voice that had
spoken to him of the wicked ways of
wicked men, and assured him that, The
fear of the Lord is the beginning of wis-


dom." Again he seemed to hear those
gentle and loving tones; again he seemed
to be sitting on the low stool by her side,
where he had so often sat-but no; he is
not there-she is dead. He thought upon
these things, and the careless, thoughtless
Andrew leaned his head upon hib hand
and wept
Fror. choice he stayed in the house
that afternoon and stud iled hi Sahbiltuli
School lesson for the next day. His excited
feelings had sui-deds into a qjniet mood,
and he enjoyed himself and his employ-
ment, though when summoned by Mairth
to the evening meal, he remembered that
he had not seen any of the boy that after-
noon. Perhaps if he had seen Nick in
the yani, his Call to play would have been
irresistible. As it was, Andrew had no
temptation that day to join hin ill-mannered
The next morning, the pleasant light of
a Sabbath sun shone into Andrep', apart-
ment, and greeted him with cheerful rays


upon his awakening The first impression
which the death of his aned relative had
made upon his mind hadl flded; his care-
less, indilltrent spirit was beginning to
take possebsion of hlm.
Breajkist lhinr- over, he repaired to his
chamber, lie leaned li-tkssly out of the
window, pre ,lilon l collie down, and let's have
some Cl ul 'Ii a firmi-iatc morning.1
"1 inlfnot," said Andri-w.
"And why not said lhe other.
"I am going to the Slbbatlmh St-chool;"
and as Andrew said this, he felt that he
really did pi going with Nick. Hv kn~ w that it Sali-
hath spent with a wicked, profinue hey,
coull anot be a well-qjpnt tiny. Now a
certain qmiiait, little vime., which we will
insert here, hald been given Io Andrew'i-
class only the Sabbath hbefire, ind they had
all learned it andl re'itel it with miueh
pleasure. Something of the sesntimentr, if
not the words and the rhyme, wai, we


are inclined to think, in his mind at the
moment when he replied so decidedly to
Nick. It anted perhaps at a little moni-
tor, sa ing softly, don't go." But the
veCre-yes, ce remember that we have
promised it. Here it is:

SA abbath well spent,
rinng a week of intent,
lAd strength for tie toil of the morrow ;
While Sabbath profaneil,
Whate'er ele may be gained,
Ia s6me to brinu trouble and orrnow,.

Evidently Andrew was not ignorant. at
least ihe wta not untingdit, with regznr to
the sacredness of that blessed (day whose
weekly return reemiund ius of that esoni
when ihe Creator of tOe heavens andrl tlhe
earth is aidl to have rested. Doutless,
as He could not be weary, it was in talm
and blessed contemplation of the works
which his hand had made, and which. flor
the depths of his wisdom, he had pro-
nounced "GOOD."


That he should profane that sacred day
was by no means Andrew's intention; and,
as he spoke to Nick and declined going, he
felt no desire whatever to go.
But the other lingered near the window.
Thrusting lhis hand into his pocket, he
held out a handful of cents, and Andrew
saw, mingled with the dark coin, some
little white shells, spotted with red sealing-
"I won all this money yesterday after-
noon," said Nick. "There was a lot of us
together, ut no other y was so lucky as I.
We got a bottle of beer at the old man's
stall at the head of the wharf; we had a
cigar apiece. 0, it was such fun!"
Andrew did not turn away-hle listened
to Nick; not that he had ever engaged in
similar amusements, for, with all his carc-
lessness, he had not dihobeyed his mother's
injunction, never to recie a single cent won
in games. We wibh we could say as much
of his obedience to her parting wish that he
should avoid Nick.


But he lingers still at the window-a
few minutes more and he is i the yard.
Ah! if he had only known, when first he
indulged in the habit of indifference, how
that spirit would enter into him, how it
would lessen his strength to do what was
good, and ktke down the barriers that would
kctep him from evil, he would never have
allowed himself to be called the careless
There! now he is at thie gate with his
ComlInTiioTi -now he i ITi flte street- he
linger an instant outside of the gate -he
fis tIait he owqht Nat to fo. lie thai lost
thni fir-t. pnnr-t, hahppiest frelcnh li.'it hIt
preflhrrn thil oLI n bult Ihe kin'A% }h, dAM*
wrlon in g"iin with Nick. He reiunrri'ht
his Tmolite)'s [iaring wol I.-hle mingeiNl
vet a mnomnent-he dare,- not qp'a.k his
thouoh l. Nick hks it,-h ai prooking way
of making fun of people. Andrew i, arf-aid
Sof his sneer.
V'When they arni d at the end of the
I street, thly roetd ove-r.:ild Andrew, hap.


opening to look back to the spot from
whence they started, sees his cousin Mar
tha at the open gate gazing after him.
Too distant to call, he sees her beckon.
But lie has put his better feelings away,
and, norwithstanding Martha's evident
Anxiety, he continues his stroll. They
'turn down towards a wharf, and, in the
Swarm, yellow sunshine of an autumn day,
they lone away the time Andrew hears
the lell for tihe school, then the bell that
summons the |io]pl to worship God in the
numerous temTiples sCntlered omr the city,
yet 'till he lingers, listitlesy following af-
ter Nit k. OnIe would he puizzld to know
what great tenio'menlt he llmd. in following
a ruin,m surly Ixt of toir n- t and swear-
ing reputaltiotn.
He can hardly tell himtnli wherein he
llnd ple.siure n In fai, lie doeh wish him-
self at church, partimularly when he hears
the hell. Yet still he follows Nick.
I're'ntiv they arc joined hy two mor
hoyv, who were Ni h companalions the


afternoon before. He pulls out of his
pocket his ill-gotten gain, invites the boys
to play, carefully picks the tiny white
shells from among the coin, shakes them
in hiss hand, gives them a throw on the
ground before him, the game has began.
Andrew sits and looks on. He was
uneasy ber6mr, now he is unhnppy-he
knows they ar" gambling An hour
passes Njetk. triumphant, has doulldd his
handful of cents, and refuses to play any
Near the spot where the boys stand is a
large pile of boards, as high as a pretty
large house; the side next to them is
perpendicular, but on the other side it is
sloping, so that one may go 'in as if
ascending a very steep, irregular flght of
"low sober you are," said Nick to
Andrew; "ready to cry because your
grandmother is dead. Why, what i
there so strange, that old women should


Shocked and disgusted, Andrew turned
He did feel strangely inclined to go by
himself, and, as Nick had so unfeelingly
expressed it, he did feel Lready to cry."
He turned away, half disposed to leave his
compnlions, and go home, even then. Ah!
would that he had listened to that inward
voice which, like a present protecting
angel, had, at every pause, during the
vhote of that misspent morning, suggested
thoughts of better things.
And why had he yielded a Surely it
was not to the pressure of any very pow-
erful temptation. Nothing so extremely
inviillng had been proposed by Nick to
lure him away. lie had followed on, from
his own labit of indifference, not caring
to take the trouble of looking at his ac-
tions It seems a snall thing, but as the
apparently harmless egg of the viper con-
ceals a vile and poisonous reptile, so did
this one habit of Andrew's prove the
fruitful source of sin and sorrow. Andrew


Andrew pause, and reflect. ]Duty, father,
mother, venerable and sainted grand-parent,
all forgotten At a single vall from Nick,
he followed him, accompanied by the two
other boys.
'Let's go up to the top of the hoards,"
cries one; and they begin to ascend But
they had not gone more than two or three
steps, before Nick cried, "Hush! hl sh!
there's old ," naming an exceedingly
faithful servant of the public, who wore
upon the front of his hat the formidable
word, POLICE, lie was, as was his duty,
patrolling the streets during service-time
on the Sabbath, for the very purpose of
breaking up precisely snulh parties as Nick
was leading now. "lere. (quikk! before
he sees us-come down on this lowest
step! Let's all sit down that he may rnot
see us !- no, no, that will not do-he will
come this way- we muIt go round to the
other side, softly, -don't speak, end
down when you walk, or he will see the
top of your he.d I "

-- I

All this was arranged by Nick, who
expected every moment to hear the word
of command from the officer, "Go nHOM,
Bors!" a word which he knew must be
obeyed. They succeeded, however, that
time, in keeping out of sight behind the
pile of hoards, until Mr. had walked
past, looked down to the end of the wharf,
and walked hark again. Nick slyly peep-
ing out, as often as he dared, to watch
the movements. When the policeman was
fairly out of sight, the ho3, ventured out,
and began to ascend the pile of hours.
Now they are at the top-they walk bark-
warnd and forwards. The clear hreeze o
autumn plays around them the softened
sunbeams fall quietly; the bright waters,
gemmed with fair islands, are before them.
Why. by this array of beauty, are they
not reminded of that heavenly presence.
which ia most asurediv around them -
that power and goodness that had actually
hallowed and made sacred the hours of
that vey day !


Presently a trifling dispute arises be-
tween Nick and one of the stranger boys.
Andrew sides with Nick; the boy turns
from his opponent, and knocks off An-
drew's hat.
"You d dot do that again," said An-
"Fight him if he does," said Nick. Out
of mere defiance, the boy knocked it off the
second time.
Andrew, profiting by the advice of Nick,
flies at the other boy, to fight
"Take care!" shouted the others, "you
are getting too near the edge." The fight-
ers were so angry that they did not heed.
Andrew succeeds in throwing the other
boy, but he is strong and grapples with
him-they roll over together. "Take care
take care!" shout the boys again; but it is
too late- they have gone together over the
steep side of the pile of boards.
The neighboring streets were full of
people, for the morning service had just
ended; and, on seeing a few persons


hasten to the spot where the boys had fallen,
others followed, and in a few minutes a
crowd of men and boys were collected-
Andrew, who received the most injury,
was stunned, but, in a few minutes, showed
signs of life, and was carried home in the
arms of the man who first saw the accident.
Three months after this, a boy was seen
crossing the public street that leads to
the school. He is pale and thin from
long confinement, and very lame, for both
ankles have been severely sprained. Worn
with suffering, and with a countenance
subnded by sorrow, some of the boys did
not know who he was, and others watched
fearfully lest he should be run over before
lie could cross the crowded street, he went
so very slowly with his two stiff ankles. It
was Andrew Jameson.
That one walk to school proved too
much for him. Many months more he
was deprived of the use of his feet; in fact,
from the more severe of the sprains he
never recovered, being always lame in one


ankle. lt. during those months of con-
finement, weariness and pain, he learned
that lesson which he might otherwise have
always neglected -he ]earned to uthk-
and when once a hoy has learned thi,
there is hope that he will take care o'f his
I thoughts.
1]'osilly, in some fiinsre numl.r of the
"Sketches." our rradrs may learn some-
thing more of the bovw who have been
mentioned on these pages.





No. 2.


I 53.


TIIP importance of the topil of which
the following is illurtrat ie is so obvious as
to need no comment None ithiefore is
An hour devoted to gpenrad instruction
has, in somen schools, been appropriated
,to leading loud the first story of this
series instances of this kind have been
repeatedly and unexpectedly conirmunicated
to the writer. To thoqs instr'uctors, who
have so fulty appreciated the object haul in
view, in these Sketches," grateful ae-
knowlcdgmCnts are tendered.
IBoMsl, Sept 1840

___I __ I


Tun hoys arc all in their seats. Rows
of bright faces fill the quiet room, but as
Sthe Teacher glances around him, he per-
ceives one of the smaller boys crying.
SWhat is the matter, Willy Brackett?"
"He bit me in the eye," said Willy, dole-
fully, at the same time making a slight
I motion with his hand towards a boy who
sat near him.
"What! you' Gcorge Redford!" said
the Teacher, seeming, for the moment, to
think aloud. Now George was the last
Sboy in the room, who might be supposed
I to be guilty of such an act, that is, if one
might judge from his appearance. When
he heard the Tencher call his name, he


looked up, re calling a noble, pleasant coun-
tenance, a hold. confiding glance, and say-
ing, as plainly as a faee could say, either
that he had not done it. or if he had, he was
in no way asharned of it
"Did you hit this little boy said Mr.
"Yes, sir," said George, without hesita-
Did you mean to do it, or was it acci-
dental ?"
I did it on purpose," was the reply.
"You may come to the desk"-then
suddenly checking himself, Mr. Norton ad-
ded, "when the scholars are dismissed."
Upon seRond thought he judged it best to
talk to George, when hiq own displicaure
had solnel haq t cooled, than to take it up
Somewhat soothed at the prospect of re-
dress, little Willy dried his eyes, and the
business of the school proceeded
Deeply displeased was Mr. Norton that
one of his scholars should attack another,


and especially that a little boy should have
suffered from the blow. And then George
Redford, too-we remember that he is to
have an interview with his Teacher at the
close of school,--but we will pass over
that, to say something of the boy himself.
He was one who possessed some qualities
that made the Teacher hope that he might
do well. Not one in the whole school
could master a lesson quicker than he,
show a neater writing-hook, draw a more
beautiful map, or explain more fully the
problems which lie had worked out upon
the black-board. lie was decidedly a boy
of talent. He had also enjoyed, in a good
degree, the means of cultivation. His
father's house abounded with every con-
venience. His own pleasant, quiet little
room which he occupied entirely by him-
self, often invited him to study. It was a
retired spot, overlooking a small and very
neat garden. where luxuriant grape-vines,
climbing a lofty trellis, spread their broad,
green leaves, and hung out, in the season,


their dark, purple clusters. In summer
it was cool and airy, and in the colder
periods of the year, it was constantly
warmed from the large furnae that had
een built in the cellar. It was foaished
also with whatever was necessary or de-
sirable. Here was a variety of books in a
neat book-case, and a table with sloping
sides, covered with green cloth, stood in
the centre Here he could read, study,
write composition, draw maps, or, if he
chose, landscapes; for he had more pat-
terns than he could ever copy. His mother
loved to encourage his taste in the cultiva-
tion of this most quiet of all employment,
for drawing had been her own favorite
pursuit in early life. Quiet, sunny land-
scapes and old ivy-crowned castles adorned
the walls of her mansion, the work of many
a leisure hour in early life. No parents
could be mo re ready than were the father
and mother of George to furnish every help
for gaining useful knowledge.
His mother was proud of his noble bear-


Sing, his manly glance, his decided manner.
i His bold and energetic character gratified
Shis father; they both desired his progress
in much that goes to make a man agentle-
* man. Yet sadly, 0! how sadly, did George
fail, in some instances, of attaining to that
. which is excellent
Fight Wyor Mm bafles! ALWAYS FIGHT
I OUR OWN BATTLSe!" said Mr. Redford
one day, as George came crying to his
I mother, because another boy had struck
him. George was then four years old, and
had just begun to learn the ways of school
boys, having entered on his career only the
week before. His father's words, at this
time,sunk so deeply unto his heart, that the
next day he came in proudly, saying, "I
did strike him, mother!"
1 Strike whom ? "
"The boy that struck me. I did strike
him, mother, with al my hands." As he
said this the little fellow stride across the
room, looking as though he wanted, at
that moment, to find some other object to


illustrate his bravery. Both parents smiled,
and that evening, when the tall astral shed
is soft light through the parlor, Georae
amused himself and his parents, by striking
at his own dark shadow on tlie wall, his
father playfully saying, .fight, Georger
right the little black boy!" until, weraied
out with froli', Geolge threw himself on
the hearth-rum, and went to Alecp. When
roused at last to go to bed, he exclaimed,
though but half awake. I did strike him.
mother, I did."
So George grew up a n1TirriN boy.
lie had begun by defending himself, but
even in this lie showed so warlike a spirit
that he brought upon Innmsef fimshi attacks
Sometimes the larger boys would tease him,
for the mere sport of seeing how the little
Primary School boy would "fight hii oiwn
battles As he grew larger he would often
attack others. At twelve years old he was,
in fact, the terror of all the small boys in
the neighborhood.
One day, as Mr. Norton was going from


the school, he saw a very little boy, who
had only entered the day before, crying
bitterly. Mr. Norton crossed the street to
enquire the cause.
The pretty little fellow lifted his long.
dewy eye-lashes at the question so gently
asked, and replied in a plaintive tone:
"As I was roming through the schmol-house
entry. a boy larger than me. caught right hold
of ne. andd pulled we down the clUar stars,
through the cellar into another yard. I did
not know where I was. He would Hnolt me

Why did he do this 7"
Sli taod me," said the meek and tearful
child, ''he would snd me t jio frAc." Here
was a freli burt of grief as the little one
recalled his maltreatment and consequent
Who ws the oy ?
I don't lknw his name."
The Teacher looked anxiously around
presently a flock of boys came running
down the street. o you know," en-


quired he, "who has been teasing this
child ?"
"George Redford," said one.
"I saw him," cried another.
"He pulled him down the cellar stair,"
said the third.
"He bid round the corner of the street,
said the fourth.
"I regret," said Mr. orton, "that a little
stranger should receive such treatment in
our school." Then turning to the aggrieved
and injured child, he said, "1 will attend to
this to-morrow; such things cmnot be al-
Drying his tears the little one ran home,
and the others also dispersed. Mr. Norton
walked on a few steps, then turned and
looked bark towards the other end of the
street. Presently he sees the head of
George Tedford and part of his body
stretched from behind the building which
made the opposite corner. On seeing the
figure of his Teacher he quickly darted
back again.


"Ah!" thought Mr Norlton, how soon
will wrong and wickedness teach even the
noblest and frankest nature the meanness
of concealment.
The next morning, as the boys were ,s-
sembling in an outer apartment that led to
the school room, one of them accidentally
threw from the window, the handsome
carpet hag in which George carried hts
books. It was unfastened, and the books
falling out. Iny on the floor.
The boy would have picked up the
ibokhs, but George doubled up his fitt, and
struck him a blow in his tire. The boy
struck hack; for does not war always beget
war 2 George flew at him. The other
ran down stairs, out the front door, into
the street. George ran after him, caught
him by the collar; they fought; a number
of hoys cluntering around. In the midst
of it all, appeared the erect figure of Mr.
Norton turning the corner of the street, and
approaching with a quick, decided trend.
The boys separated, but not till Mr. Norton


had obtained a clear idea of what was
going on.
Every morning the school was opened
by reading the Scriptures and prayer.
That morning Mr. Norton read but a sin-
gle verse. It was this: "Blessed are the
Peacemakers, for they shall be called the
children of God." This was followed by a
very, ewy short prayer.
The scholars sat waiting in their seals.
A deep silence was in the room; it seemed
to grow still stillerand stiller they would hear
the clock tick-tick-tick -even the boys
in the farthest desks heard it. Presently
Mr. Norton spoke "the classes need not
recite yet; the boys need not take out
their books. I have something to say to
the school." There is a short fanse tick
-tick-tick goes the clock was the room
ever quite so still before Mr. Norton
"Boys," said he, "our school has been
this morning deeply disgraced. Jt a few
more such scenes as took place this morn-


ing occur, and the character of its mem-
bers will be established as a set of fighters.
Our school will lose, it has already begun
to lose, that good name which it has
hitherto bome."
The boys, especially the larger ones,
looked sober, for they had always had a
pleasure and an honest pride in the charac-
ter of their school.
The Teacher proceeded there is proba-
bly not one of you here present that has
not learned the ten commandments; butare
you aware that it is one of these which you
break, when you indulge in those feelings
which are usually expressed in fighting?
Take, for instance, the ocurrence of this
morning; if I mistake not there were both
anger and revenge in the countenances of
those boys who were disgracing themselves
in the street. With the commandments
you are all familiar; most of you have
learned them in the Primary School; you
have learned them, I fear, to little purpose,
if you have not yet begun to think suff-


cicntly to be aware which has been violated
this morning."
The boys looked thoughtful, and some
wished to -peak.
"I should like to know." proceeded the
Teacher, "how many of you cai tell."
Several raised their hands in token that
they knew.
"You may tell. Edwin Goodhu Now
Edwin was one of the smanllest boys in the
school-a very little fellow-one of the
youngest, and small of his agc; besides,
with such a little, round. rory face. But
Edwin spoke up, 'the strtl."
"You may repeat it," laid the Teacher.
"Thou shalt hot kill."
"How then does the angry boy break
"He mighkill,"said Edwin firmly,though
in a low, thoughtful voice
"True," said the Tea her, "he might"
Some of the larger boys here raised their
hands again. They had something more
in their minds, which they would like to


express. "What do you wish to say?"
said the Teacher, addressing one of them.
"HIe has the same feeling that lead one
to kil."
An intelligent boy of mild aspect raised
his hand, and said, "We should love our
neighbor as yourselves.
Very true," said the Teacher, "and very
much to the point, but we will confine our
remarks now, to the sixth commandment
It has been well said by one of the boys,
ihat he who fights and strikes has the feel-
ings of a murderer. It is so. Angr, re-
venge, and all the feelings of that class are
the same in kind, though they may differ
in degree. Many a fighter has killed a
man when he little thought of such a
thing, and has lost his character, his liher-
ty. and posrily lhis life, for the exercise of
the same feeling, which I grieve to say
has burned in the hearts of some of these
boys." He then called the attention of his
pupils to the beautiful law of love which

one of their number had suggested, urging
them to cultivate habits of gentleness and
kindness. Then addressing himself par-
ticnularly to George, he continued, "You,
sir, who I believe take pleasure in being
able to fight every boy in the neighbor-
hood, although you may value yourself
highly on account of your warlike spirit
and power, I am under the necessity of
saying, that with all your prowess you have
in fact conducted like a coward."
George's eye flashed, and the color rush-
ed to his cheek. "Iam not," said he, "it is
fajsel" At the same time, he gave his
head that peculiar defying shake, which
some boys are wont to do when greatly
displeased. In fact, he looked as though he
was ready to fight the master on the spot.
"Not so fast, young man," said Mr. Nor-
ton, in a calm voice. "You have not paid
close attention to my words. I did not call
you a coward."
"But you did, sir," said George, in the
same defying manner.


Some of the boys smiled at each other;
a few of those in the most distant part of
the room rose and stood in their seats, that
they might more distinctly see and hear
what was going on.
,-Pay a little more attention," said Mr.
Norton; did not say that you were a
coward, but that you had acted like
George was silent.
Mr. Norton proceeded- As I perceive
that the attention of the school is drawn to
this subject, I will relate an incident that
fell under my observation. No; upon
second thought, I will let another person
come forward." Then changing his voice,
he added, "The small boy with whom I
spoke yesterday afternoon, a new scholar,
I do not recollect his name, may come to
the desk."
The scholars looked about, several new
ones had been admitted on the day but
one preceding, but the same modest gentle,
and unoffending child came up to the desk.


He stood beside Mr. Norton, who now ad.
dressed him.
"What is your name, my little boy ?
"James Oliver," said a soft voice.
"How old are you, James ?
"Seven, last March."
"What school did you attend before
this ? "
"Miss Wentworths."
"Always at a lady's school before you
came hereI"
"Yes, sir."
"How many days have you been
here "
"This is the third."
"Well, James, this is, you perceive, a
much larger school than you have been
accustomed to attend. Should not wonder
if you had been a plaything with Miss
Wentworth. (Here James loked up sur-
prised.) Have you been treated well since
you came hem qe"
"Not very."
"How so? Would any one of the large


boys be so mean as to think of annoying
one smaller than himself I"
James was silent.
"The truth is," said the Teacher, and
then ho proceeded to reliat the whole
sc cue which he h.0l wiitnetrcd, with regard
to ithi trouteih ofr Jaeittn' Ct, without, how-
C%'. (IietinuoIITig tIi liRttle iof the iay who
han'.el ncn rty oI tie rtaI ne. WhVimn he
ha I l fintihiei, hlr i'id, lNo J.inie, I ish
Iyou lo IIoII out to l'ii thiit hov who was'
slo r11n0 a, to iittac, k hTiing, And so
conjlhity ias to c hi.oe hi huiial hury for his
James wan s tonf imdt
"In whatever ;part of the rtoonm he mav
he, ig to him, lity Vyour lIId *juxmn his
shoulder, that we may know who he is."
Slowly, timidly, Jamcs goes down the
aisle; he htos, turns lhalf -wny round, looks
for all instant with his ev full in ithe face
of the master, and lays lhis hand upon
George lIedford.
The next boy to him started with sutr-


prise, nd R so did the next to him, and one
other; this was as many as George could
notice, for hi6 eyve were by this time grown
so heavy he Ticould not lift them up.
"I have made thii rproof a public one,"
said A r. Nurton adhdiesing himself to
Georgr, twh]ih i contim-y, as ou well
know, io inyv 1ta.i should not have done, hut ltht piivare ad-
niotnifuino ha't beetn passed bji uinlihded.
To indlge in igltiugg, as vou wire fouul
doing this nmolning, was 4a ,ibgrabr tbut to
spend your tre-lglhi upon this child, slhVws
I anything ut. Iirave and coIurageous sirit
Thli bloy toul1d like all of them to be
disbnlllgui then, remember that these high Ianld Miattnly
qualities find ai nys their appropriate
wolk in affording shelter and prote' tion
to the weak and defencelcss. I have not,
George, you will please recollet, called
you a coward, but I lea e it for the bcholars
to make up their minds whether or not you
have acted like one."


The boys showed plainly by their looks
what they thought, and George, with all
his boasted bravery, leaned his head upon
his desk-and cried.
Was the young war-maker cured of his
evil ways One might think than such
would have been an effect of the mortify-
ing disclosures that had been made. In a
conversation, too, that was held in the
course of that day with Mr. Norton, George
had acknowledged his error, and expressed
his intention of reform; but how hard is it
for those accustomed to do evil, to learn to
do well.
But a few days had passed since these
occurrences, when, as George was passing
along the street, he saw a small boy stand-
ing at the door of a large old house, oppo-
site the school, and occupied by several
families. This was little Frederick Seaver.
His mother occupied a part of that large
house, and supported her family mainly by
taking in washing. She was not a widow
with a family of orphans around her- the


children had still a father she had still a
husband--b ut alas he was one whose
life was but a iving death!-a pale aind
shadowy Btim oa disease! I.ong and
wearyl years b.d paled, and p ,seed agtnin
and still beheld Mr. Saver contending
hopelesIily wit h tl w< ttt'ema nhle,
annllc through v eaknes to> lift a liudrt in
earn a suppoi t or hi, favnily. Lut compelled
to owe his own iuoteninnie to the hard carlm-
i d pitanme iof hi- ilei. wlnho I.> Ierr c labor.
intense, unremirtintf oierpolermi)g lal or
to eating the bread of charity. Littlh hcllp
did Mr. Senv'e reeiveC. in her simlege to
swstaih her fimilv, save -.n< h it ro' froin
the vsympAthlie of a few. who knew Laoth
her need and her relm tiame to speak of it.
Such friends she had- remcmbnirncers to
her heart of araly yonth,-a yoth night
with hope and prosperity, before lthig dark
cloud had (cat its shadow on her pathr
The omnipanion ofher.joys had been tadly
and Forely smitten, hope had died in her
heart, but she rejoiced, yes, she deeply re-


joined, that, though anlliced, they were not
disgraced. Calmly, resolutely, with a no-
,le. God-frering spiri, did she enter upon
lie darkened paths whiwh were allotted
her. Thle lil wl h. dur in a few brief
m'r1rs, they had I]een able to save, had 11
cI1(i 1pent 111 etfort% to regain that health
hlith wai firevr one Trira e had mith
Sr'. for ;i wa',ion tih waLtnig disease, Ibut
Shald h hy no ineini, prevented its silent, In-
i jlliolln growth Atl --all wa gone, tlhe
SiIIIt |quilt their plciant'-i ho ne, thyv must
remlore to another and i c-heicr house; a
shelter ihev mtntl hav'. hlu one nmore
allapted to iheir 'ilti firtunes.
Inh1intilrl^ h fA'r r<" in d F. Mr,* Seavcr
Took IeIsurc. s t arn molil.thiug for the
i -suppIl, of the watnt of her hihuidren, and
i to make her hushand tomifortiltable In this
Tanner she h.d toiled for mnanly year. at
the tine of whi( Ih we spe' .. 1[r children
are growing up, somre old enough to leave
school, whi-h it a help to her; their father
i still an emnciated in il id, showed with dis-


Seas and worn with suffering, sits in the
midst of his lively and promising children,
beloved and honored. His great easy-chair,
in which he sits night and day-for he
has not been able for many years to lie
down-stands in the pleasantest spot in
the room; and on sunny days he may he
seen pacing slowly up and down the yard,
Sand sometimes extending his stroll for a
few steps on the sidewalk. A broken vase
he seems, and laid aside, and with a sad
heart he may sometimes in his darker mo-
ments think himself useless. But what a
mistake1 Humbly clad are the Seaver
boys and poor, but what a beautiful reline-
ment is in their manner, and what a deep
and touching tenderness of love as they
minister to the wants of their helpless pa-
rent; the sweetest infant could not be more
carefully watched or more tenderly cared
for,-such reverence too in their manner,
a love deepened and rendered grave and
pure and self-denying-and then such
scholars are these boys. Though some


days ar thte ith the nguishing invalid days
of dire and roinuming pain, yet every day
is not so, and the best possible entertain-
ment that he can enjoy. is to bear his boys
talk over other various pursuits, their le-
Sons4, their excrei(es at school, the many
plhoi. of their Teacher for their benefit.
Tie n daily progress of his boys is known
to lIm. A tender, wm-thfuIl spirit hovers
around then' pimhs erninuAdly. They
(would go without lod o.r sleei. rather than
I see th le lpae brow, o ofren knit with pain,
darkened Ilso liy orronw at their idleness
or i e nlll nes he ical r scholars studied
Switch thlili mindhl IhoL tihe Seaver boys al-
wayi s wit h heir wiho I hlieits A gentle
spirit of good to then is the poor invalid
who sits in their midst.
Little Freddy Seaver was a small boy,
Inlonging to the youngest class. and his
older brother, Char-les, had recently left
school. Charles Seaver was a quiet boy,
but he twas one that George Redford had
taken great delight in worrying, drawing


him into disputes. and, if possible, settling
the disputes by blows. Ch.rles was well-
disposed, but George was so provoking, so
pastal] hearing. Thuse disputes sometimes
ran high, and the ill-feeling did not seem to
exhaust itself.
Charlkes had left school. He had hcrome
the errand-bo in the proI i the corner. When il h< other, 1 ire gither-
ing to school in he morning, thei, mally he
seen, in the neiglihioalool, a comely, sedate
looking lad, with a dark, cotton apron
reaching up to his 'hini and lelow his
knees. crrying ilhing on his arm a large
basket of ioivijions. This is Charles
Seavcr IThere is not I better scholar to
lbe found. ( Possibly thern it ri alry in lth
ill-will blown him by Georgeo) hlit h as
left school because he must help his mother
to get a living, leJ is thoughtful; the situ.-
tion of the family has made him so, and he
has almost forgotten h old dli-putes with
hi, sbhool-fellow. Not so with George.
The spi ic of war has actually gown with


his growth, and strengthened with his
strength, and when he saw little Freddy
Sever standing at the gate, his old feel-
ing returned,-not that he had anything
against Freddy, hut then Freddy was bro-
ther to Charles. So he raised his foot and
gave the little fellow a kick. Alas for the
poor child! George had on new boots; he
did not realize how heavy they were-he
hit Freddy on the right hand -his thumb
was broken. A sudden scream the mo-
ther at the door -the pale visage of the
sick father peering from the widlow -the
eldest Irother, (a grown up young man,)
Srshing from the house, made George feel
rather strangely, and, frightened, he ran
away andd i himself. For several days
Freddy came to school with his arm sus-
pended by a sling. The Teacher observing
it, enquired the cause, and found George
Redford at fault again.
Mr Norton wished to suppress this war-
spirit. "What ran I do? thought he, as
weary and pensive one day, when school

was dismissed, he sat alone in the school-
room. His head rested on his hand as he
leaned on his desk. A small Bible, from
which he usually read to the school every
morning, lay on the desk. He cast his
eye unconsciously upon the page before
him and read, They who toakne e uword
shall visrh with t;h, sword." Memorable
words of the Prince of Peace! whose voice
is ever to the weary ones of this world as
the bursting forth of a clear and bubbling
stacam in a parched and desert land.
The thoughts of the Teacher took a new
turn. For some time past he had made
his efforts for the good of the school tend
very murh towards this one particular
point, the suppression of tihe spirit to which
allusion has been made. Sometimes he
made to the scholars remarks which he
thought would be remembered; sometimes
he read stories and incidents illustrative of
the excellence of a peaceful spirit. The
few words upon which his eye rested have
given him a subject.


The next morning, as school was about
to commence, he proposed a few minutes'
delay of the usual exercises, adverted to
what he had formerly said, and finally re-
peating to the boys the boys the sentiment, They
who take the sword shall perish with the
sword," called upon the school, to express
their views of its meaning.
The boys were, for this time, silent. The
Teacher proceeded :
"If you are fighting hoys, you will al-
ways have a plenty of fighting to do.
"If you are striking hoys, you will al-
ways find somebody to strike back.
"If yon th-ow stones, you may be sure
somebody will throw them at you.
'-If yon take the sword, you will be very
likely to find somebody who will lift the
sword against you"
These remarks were intended partieu-
larly for the larger boys, who appeared to
understand them, while the little ones only
turned, with a wondering glance, first at
their Teacher, and then at each other.

80 m WA~-MAWKmRS.

Little thought Mr. Norton that his words
would so soon be realized. We pass on a
few days.
There was a half-holiday. In the alley,
which led to the bark gate of George Red-
ford's home which opened into a small
garden, a numnhr of little boys were at
play. A warm, dry, still afternoon had
invited them out to spin their top,. They
had played pleasantly for some time, when,
suddenly, George appeared.
Every one of you go out of this alley,"
shouted he.
The boys stared, but went on with their
"This is my alley," said George, "and
you shall every one of you he out of it in
one minute at the sam. time catching
a top out of the hand of one of the
"Give him back his top, and we will go,"
cries one.
Yes, yes, give him back his top and we
will go," echoed the others.


George threw the top on the ground, the
boys rshced to get it, and then all ran out
of the alley to find another place to play.
All save one-he was a short fellow, but
extremely stout and rugged, and by his
cofntcmentnce, cveral years older than his
siex would indicate.
"Out of this nilly." said George, who
considered himself the Iord of the Manor,
and had a great idea of playing the tyrant.
"No su h i thing," sa the other studily.
"Ill have ,ou out in the twinkling of an
eye, whoever you arc."
The stout boy braced himself up against
tie sile of the hionse, is lluch as to say,
"you can move this hTou as soon as you
can mme me."
Gcorge approached, maddend by oppo-
sition to the other-quick as lightning
cntme out ihe stout boy's jack-knife, which
he opened. "Touch nm," said he, '"and I
will stab you with this."
George would not heed, but caught the


stranger boy by the shoulder- Instantly
the knife was thrust between his ribs, the
blood burst forth-he rested-be stagger-
ed-he fell senseless to at ground. Pale
as ashes, he lay stretched upon the pave-
Frightened at his own deed, the stranger
boy fled.
It was NrcK SAUNERS.*
As he rushed from the alley, he ran
against, and almost threw down, little
Freddy Scaver, who, looking towards the
spot where the scene had occurred, saw
the blood and the senseless form of George.
With two or three sp ings he reached the
door of Mr. Redford's house, and, rather
with shrieks than with words, informed
them that something was the matter.
0 0! he's dead! somebody has killed
him!" sobs Freddy.
"Killed? who'" exclaims the cook,

*For a farther count of Nik we must refr the
trder to No.1, of these "Sketches."


"what do you mean, child T' Then run-
ning to her mistress she called out, "some-
body is killed!"
In the meantime. Freddy articulated the
word Genrqe!
"It' Gcorgel It's George? shrieked
Mrs Redford, and ran into the alley to find
her son already rtiied up hy a gentleman
who was passing, while several other per-
sons, who worked in a carpenters shop in
the neighborhood, were standing around
him, "Let us sald the gentlenman, 'buear
him to his home, it ninnt he neart" casting
a look "pon the dirstrctild mother. He
was carried into the hoI se and laid upnc
a I:di, and otei of the invI ran for a doctor.
Meantime Goorqe fainted nain from loss
of blood, and could not he revived. His
mother thought him dead, and sank on her
knee beside t}e bIed in agony. The sur-
geon arrives-examines the wound. The
mother is borne from the apnrtnent lifeless
as her son. George thinks himself dying,
and asks for his father and mother.


The surgeon livirig completed the ex-
amination. exchangess glances with the
gentleman who lhas stood near him. "A
narrow hecape ays he. in a voie soo low
that the words semr i thur breacthd than
Georglci again mks for his pimrentm-
might he see tlhenm ht Onn e H His rithol
hII that morning btarted upon a short
"Compose yourself," said the Do tor,
"we hope Nou will soon lie he tel. I shill
remain hln e, Per the 'prsent,I to Tnoit C the
sympItoln," said hle., to the other gentleman.
Neigher of therm (ilteid ithe N-aide that
a ftcll o ll
Towards evening, (eorgme hiadl so far re-
vived, tlht hope was admini termed by the
Doctor, that the g-nat danger had missed
Yes! it had passed ; that is, thU immedi-
ate, imminent danger was over; hut 0,
how many weeks, yea, months, lingered on
their wearisome way. before lie was himself,
-hle had een so weakened by the loss of


blood. Who, to have looked upon that
pale brow, that face, which seemed wrinkled
and shrunk as with age, those nervously
trembling hands, would have recognized the
bold, spirited George Redford ?
His mother sat by his bedside day by
day, administering to his wants with her
own hand, ai for weeks he lay feeble as an
infant. till her own check grew pale. His
lfthler would take the w.n looking boy in
his strong a arm and arrayy him front room
to oomn. A chage haid conm over their
houuhold. Yet WAS it not without its
mood; not all unblessed were tho hours
spent in that sick nroom. Thought was
hbly with the parents, ns they looked upon
their boy, and in those moments of bitter
reflection did the con ciousness come home
to their hearts, that they had not inculcated
upon their son, in the earlier days of his
childhood, those precepts of gentlenerss and
love, which, falling like the dew upon the
tender herb, might have softened his heart
mid saved them all so ternhle a lesson.


The reader will remember the stranger,
who, on the afternoon that George lay
senseless on the sidewalk, took him in his
arms and carried him rinto the house. This
same friendly fLie was seen daily at his
bedside, with kind inquiries after his
health, and very ofrn t ome little token of
Skindness. It might be i bunit of flowers,
Sa beautiful print, or orne delinato fruit
from his own arden, which, coming unexh.
peetedly- together wnih the gemal presence
of Mr. Roberts, would olten revive the
drooping Rpirit of the, ,iffcrer. Mr. lRob-
erts, having iuch lpiF'n-n was neenstomed
to employ it in seeking how he Inight do
good. Mild in dlet enuor. aid enimgnant
in aspect, he was~ evr a welhomlna guest i I
the house of tflhritnal. ael none know het-
ter than he, how to s mpathiz with the
sBorrowing After a few vtbls, George be-
came tenderly atmtahed to him, and would
even county the moments till he should
Several weeks after the events which


have been detailed, two of George's school-
fellows came in one day to visit him. They
had much to tell, and among other things
one of them inquired, did you know that
Freddy Seaver is sick ? "
"No, indeed,' said George, a painful
expression passing over his face, "is he
very sick "
"lie has a high fever," was the reply,
"and yesterday his mother thought he was
Mr. Roberts entered, and the boys took
their leave.
On approaching the bedside of George,
he was found in an unusual agitation
Quick flushes passed across his usually
pale face, lh seized the hand of his friend
and burst into tears.
What is the matter, my dear boy W Why
do you suffer yourself to be thus agitated ?
What has happened to you ? "
"Ah poor little Freddy Seaver '-
"Well, what of him "
"He is sick and likely to die."

"Is he sick hut lie nmay recover -let
us hope in God for ith best. iDo not agi-
tate yourself"'
"Tsaten to me," 'ahid G(eorge and will
tell you manl y thiing lie then told Mr.
Iroberts of rlhi ill health of Freddy' f tther,
of the cxertions made by Mrs. Scaver for
the support of her faunily and alluded to
his treatmentl of the Ibos. His l pi rit had
been softened liy cnfincmpTnnt anld sorrow,
and his mind rendered keen In Is perrep-
tions by unwonmed iloulght, hy the whipecr-
ilngs of ,onlls(-tnTi --whiii-,,riing" ? Not
those whispering had ineroans(e to it Voiu
of thunder Aq hly ai single sntoke the
thought of Frcduly's .ic knes~.i ad ppl ( h-
ing death, sevemi to l.t open betfore the
soul of Geerge Reldford the evil spirit to
which no had acustomed himself to yield
Like winged messengers came Cst and
thick to his mind the many and oft-repeat-
ed preerpts of Mr. Norton Those precepts
had sd seeded like water spilt upon the ginuld
that might not be gathered; but now-


cona"lence had awakened and clothed her-
self in her own garments of mjesty. George
could not he relieved til he had told Mr.
Roberts the whole story of his enmity to
Charles Seaver, his tauntl on account of
poverty an d old clothes sometime out at
the ellbws; and then hlit of all, he told
him of the unprovoked injury and pain
inflh ted upon poor little Vredldy. Having
said all th his hi strength wan gone and he
sank exhanilted iluon Ihis pillow
Talk no more at prewvnt, my boy," said
Mr. Rtoberts. "vyo cannot hear it.-For
the erring and pendient thirc i' alwa' hope
--thde wse were rievous sini; onmu a them

power to forgive, all who, wih forgivene s,
imparts also strength to sin ano mor.
SWill you go and see Freddy ? asked
"I will do all that you desire. But I
shall not rcmirn here till tomorrow." Ile
judged rightly that Geoirg had talked
enough for that day, and took his leave.

Directly he bent his steps to the dwelling
of Mrs. Seavcr. She knew Mr. Roberts by
sight, and she also knew his character, and
invited him into the sick room. Every
thing in the aspect of the house Ibre marks
of poverty, but not of the squalid and de-
graded kind. They ascended to a little
room in the upper story, but well-aired and
neat. The bed was of snowy white, and
little refreshments stood on a small table
near the head. An orange with the rind
carefully stripped off, a moss rose in a
wine-glass of water; somebody had sent it
to Freddy that day, hut he had not noticed
it. On one &ide of the bed was seen the
worn countenance of the mother, and on
the other sat a young lady, an assistant
teacher in Mr. Norton's school. The poor
little victim of fever was apparently with-
out consciousness.
"fHe is easier now,' said the mother;
" he had terrible spasms this morning," (it
was nowa near night,) and we thought him


At that moment he appeared to aronue,
opened wide his eyes-he knew no one,
hut gazed around with that dreadful look
which told that reason was gone, at the
same time making a strange, distressed
He does not know us," said the moth-
er; "speak to him Miss C0- and see if he
Bending over ithe little sufferer Miss G-
pronounced his name in a cheerful voice
" Freddy, Freddy Sever, do you know who
is speaking to you "'
The sudden sound of a familiar voico
arrested the attention of the fever-strieken
boy, the beautiful light of intelligence
beamed over hlm facc, for an instant the
spell of delirium was broken, the eye
beamed momentary pleasure. and he sought
to speak. But the swollen tongue refused
its office and mo'ed helplessly from side
to side of his mouth, making only inar-
ticulate sounds. Then the light of rea-
son and recollection f.ded, and delirium


resumed its sway. He could not be roused
"I fear," thought Mr. Roberts, as he
walked home, that I shall not have any
pleasant news for my yotmng friend."
In three dlta carter ltis. F'reddy was
dead --Poor G.ioi.e groaned nlould when
h e was ihnform lnd f it, for the remembrance
of his llnkindlnss was haliltrpenled by the
sad f.ue of the little Iov.
Do you think," said Ie some days after-
ward, hat Charles Scaver would come
here if sent for?"
I am mure he would." aid Mr. Roberts.
Now this gentleman in his visits to Mrs.
Sean v had spoken of George, nii I Cha.rles's
mother had expressed tire deept interest
in learning from day to day how he was.
Mr. Roblert did not like to speak of his
young frivenid' state of mind will regard to
her family. Mrs. Saver however led to it
herself in ronver tion one day soon after
the death of Freddy.
"My Ibys ilnd George." said she, "al-


ways had dtilnuity together. He and
Chatrles conid never igige, but ever since
that dreadful l'aftircnon, when (Gorge was
samblnxI (Charle, has eemned to feel surh a
pity for hlim
"I laq your son been to see him?'" in-
quireud Mr lioleriq
S'No, ie hs inot. We, you know, are
poor. and I hIn'c I ,.cn obliged to take
Charles from hlhoid, nld lie and (George
live not hadl mn<]o ii crourc.'
I, wat Ilin confverMIaition which led Mr.
IRobert to elply so dreiledly to George,
that chle oihrr would % -it him if hit wished.
The nexr daL i ws Sundayv, and Mr. Roberts
meeting willi Chalrles. who was on his way
from clumr h in the afternoon, invited him
to stop in and see his once formidahile school-
mate. Thie nmeeing of these two was a
pleasant sight Ioys are not apt to make
use of many wolis of reconciliation, but as
Charles :appro l hied, time mnolsteed uve and
warn graspl of tihe hlitld told tru'y to the
miodlstl 1nd I hOWilthll lloki e 'l youth.

94 TnHE WlAR-3- ITRS.

whoc see sedate demeanor ws heightened
by his mourning dress, that George was
changed. r M. and Mrs. edford too were
much pleased with Charles, and urged him
to repeat hib visit, From that time a por-
tion of all the leisure that C(haldes could
command was devoted to (ieorge. The
latter recovered Qlowl, anid when at last
he did appear in lie i'nighbIorlho.d among
the other boys, it was riot is before, the
Ilistering, fighting GUeoige Redifoil.
Health and strength linem ',lth time.
His hold :d ani fea les and iTi(rgelic nature
was not deap'ess(dI or taken w1-y. but Iheau-
tirfu prilniples of pleas .nd .iuancl, lhli-
nets and love i1d 1beeni engitred there- I
upon, in the silence or thsint sick chluniber,
by the teal uhinugq or Mr. Rohbertr, Ilcions
by the blessing of (ild. never forgottien.
Soon after George returned to school,
Mr. Roberts called one dMiy upon Mr. Nor-
ton. lie requested thint Ihe latter gentle-
man would recommend, fiomr among his
scholars, one who was both capable and


trustworthy, as he wished to olain a boy
to introduce to a situation in a mercantile
house, at the head of which was his own
brother. Here was a fine chance for a boy,
and Mr. Norton, being aware of it, and
Also of the responsibility of making a elce-
tion, hesitated. George was that day sit-
ting at the teacher's desk, assitting him in
making out some accounts Mr. Roberts
had not seen his young friend for some
time. George looked up as though greatly
interested in what was said. Might lie
speak ?
On your own naeount' inquired Mr.
No sir," said Gcorge. my father has
given his csonsent for me to go to college-
but-"he hesitated, aus though conscious
oF some impropriety in directing the judg-
ment of hi's elders.
Say on," said Mr. Norton
There is not a boy in the school," con-
tinned George, "that is equal to Charles

96 T T1E W.AR-1IAKHtS.

Mr, Roberts smiled i:t his own recollec-
Mr NlrtOTio repeitd quiekly, you are
right, ltR in- to Mr lohirts, "llht i the bon for
youm, ir, I hiave no lotiln "
"I think," asil Mr. Roleiri, ndl he
glaneId at UGcom. i clht I know Elmi boe
III (]illp( On, nIld wiH ll t-il nm islf'" Biddhing 1r Noton t -o uod Tairn-
ingl," li ltUf te l the ll ol-l oi IT'. ii n, clno'ig
tihe street enii-il hlie well known holmn.
There, is ,usual .n thei hliailowv fi in or
the wanted int.itl. itil], las it, t .l, Mrs
c-a' er purin'le her d.ly 1 oil. She left
ier ironing, hoe 'l C. (, fl- ,R ft, Miilil, to
speak vith Mr. RIob rts. s", heitl hi- s
proposal with a -b lgi bhroom .and i t ql-
ful eye Ileaveli lih a sent Von her'e,"
exclaimed she. l.:Ist week, Mr. 1- ItheI
provision dealer f iledL, a Gco'rge hias had
nothlin to do siler, hmul It) pick ulp little
change hv Frive lg liomel. proi iunis ft>orm
the market"


"If he should do well in this new situan
tion, which seems to he presenting ijelr,"
said Mr. Roberts. "it may be of advantage
to the younger hoys."
Mrs. Staver had entire confidence in
Charles. and, with reason, but she cfrhore
to speak in hi praise e; that he had been
selected from so many-others, was uiffieient
acknowledgment of the esteem in whkih he
was held.
SSuch thought for my children," said
the mother after a short silence, "lightens
the load from my heart. I have struotgled
hard to keep them from eating the bread
of charity. Others have thought that in
this I have persevered too strongly. I
wibhed them to depend upon their own
exertions forsnccess in life. but your kind-
ness, sir. is o the right kind, for it tends to
plate e the where they can effectually do
Mr. Roberts, with much please, in-
formed Mrs. Seaver of the share which

George had had, in the selection of
What a change in that boy," said she;
"he is as much beloved by the others as he
used to be feared and almost hated."
Matters were soon settled, and Charles
entered, the next week, the extensive estab-
lishment of the younger Mr. Roberts.

Not very far distant from the school-
bouse is a favorite resort of the boys, not a
very safe one, it must be acknowledged, but
as we have said, a favorite spot. On the
edge of one of the railroad bridges, that
leads from the the city, the boys love to throw
their fishing lines, and ar occasionally so
happy as to succeed in catching a few un.
wary little fishes. One afternoon, during
vacation, George happened to be walking
in that direction with his fishing line and
basket. While yet at some distance from
the place, he sees a boy running at full
speed to meet him. He hears shouting in
the distance he discerns that it is a

shriek of terror and dismay-it comes
nearer-he hastens on-he catches the
words "a boy oerboard!" George rushes
on, the other boy flying past to call for
help He comes t tohe place. "He was
fishing right here," says a boy who still
lingers. In a twinkling George throws off
his jacket; he is a good swimmer; just as
he is ready to plunge in, something rises
to the surface of the water. Leaping in,
he ceizes the floating for ; it is hut a bmall
boy; he drags him through the water and
find, to his joy, two men on the edge of
the bridge. The boy who gave the first
alarm has brought them They take the
apparently lifeless form, which has been
rescued from the waves, and hear it away
for a short distance they undo his heavy,
wet clothes, and wringing his hair, rub the
temples and hands; he begins to revive.
Meantime, George, having resumed his
jacket, follows; a number of persons are
now gathering; George sees in the crowd
his uncle Melzar, his mother's brother, ap-

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