Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Chapter I: Contentment
 Chapter II: Theft
 Chapter III: Temperance
 Chapter IV: Temperance, contin...
 Chapter V: Usefulness
 Chapter VI: Usefulness, contin...
 The Irish brothers
 The obliging boy, and the disobliging...
 Back Cover

Title: Lessons of profit, and stories of truth
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00065465/00001
 Material Information
Title: Lessons of profit, and stories of truth
Physical Description: 142 p. : ill. ; 17 cm.
Language: English
Creator: M. B. I. ( Author, Primary )
Putnam, John ( Printer )
New England Sabbath School Union -- Committee of Publication ( Editor )
New England Sabbath School Union ( Publisher )
Publisher: New England Sabbath School Union
Place of Publication: Boston
Manufacturer: John Putnam
Publication Date: c1840
Copyright Date: 1840
Subject: Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1840   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1840
Genre: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Statement of Responsibility: by the author of "A teacher's gift," &c. ; written for the New England Sabbath School Union, and revised by the Committee of Publication.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00065465
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002232980
oclc - 50863070
notis - ALH3379

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Chapter I: Contentment
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        The disappointment
            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 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
    Chapter II: Theft
        Page 31
        Page 32
        The little flat-iron
            Page 33
            Page 34
            Page 35
            Page 36
        The stolen apple
            Page 37
            Page 38
            Page 39
            Page 40
            Page 41
            Page 42
            Page 43
            Page 44
            Page 45
            Page 46
            Page 47
            Page 48
        Adeline Brooks
            Page 49
            Page 50
            Page 51
            Page 52
            Page 53
            Page 54
            Page 55
            Page 56
            Page 57
    Chapter III: Temperance
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        The drunkard's children
            Page 62
            Page 63
            Page 64
            Page 65
            Page 66
            Page 67
        The intemperate husband and father
            Page 68
            Page 69
            Page 70
            Page 71
            Page 72
            Page 73
            Page 74
            Page 75
    Chapter IV: Temperance, continued
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        The cherry rum
            Page 79
            Page 80
            Page 81
            Page 82
            Page 83
            Page 84
        The hoeing bee
            Page 85
            Page 86
            Page 87
            Page 88
            Page 89
            Page 90
            Page 91
    Chapter V: Usefulness
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        A life of usefulness
            Page 99
            Page 100
            Page 101
            Page 102
            Page 103
            Page 104
            Page 105
            Page 106
            Page 107
            Page 108
            Page 109
            Page 110
            Page 111
            Page 112
    Chapter VI: Usefulness, continued
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        The little nurse
            Page 117
            Page 118
            Page 119
            Page 120
            Page 121
            Page 122
            Page 123
            Page 124
            Page 125
            Page 126
            Page 127
            Page 128
            Page 129
            Page 130
            Page 131
            Page 132
    The Irish brothers
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
    The obliging boy, and the disobliging boy
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text





"It is of vast importance to enlighten the youthful con-
science, and to cause itito act faithfully with regard to prac-
tical points of duty, those daily concerns of business, or of
pastime, in which children are engaged."

Written for the New England Sabbath School Union, and
revised by the Committee of Publication.

No. 79 Cornhill.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1840,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.





"A contented mind is a continual feast."

DID you ever read the Bible through? It
is a great book for a little child to read, I
know, but then you know it is -God's book,
and it tells us the way to heaven. I began to
read it in course, when I was a little child,
only six years old, and I finished the last
chapter before I was seven; but I remember,
even now, how I used to read. When I was
six years old, my mother told me that she
wished me to read the Bible through before
I was- seven. "You may read aloud to me,"
said she, four chapters every week-day, and


eight every Sabbath, and you will finish it be-
fore you are seven, if you live, and then your
father will give you a Bible for your own."
In this manner I read through this blessed
book, always reading aloud to my father, my
mother, or to some one of my brothers and
sisters who was old enough to tell me how to
pronounce the "hard words," and answer the
questions I wished to ask about what I was
It is many years since, but I remember,
even now, the day that I finished the last book
in the Bible. It was a sunny day in the
spring; the leaves were just coming out upon
the trees, the grass was springing up, and the
birds beginning to tune their throats for the
season. I had read twenty chapters that day,
the very last in the Bible, and the work which,
ten months before, appeared so very great,
was now finished. I ran to tell my father
that I had read the Bible "through," and to
ask him if he would not take a walk with me
in the fields. This request I had made seve-
ral times before, this spring, but my father had
always said, "It is not warm enough, and the


ground is not dry enough yet, to walk in the
fields; wait a little while longer, my child."
But this day he said, "Yes," and I joyfully
skipped away to find my thick shoes; while he
went for his hat and cane. We were soon
ready, and with my hand fast locked in his,
we set off for the fields. My father lifted me
over the fence, and in a few moments we
came to a lane, on one side of which was a
thick wood, and on the other side it was
shaded by a few shrubs, and some walnut
trees. I gazed with pleasure upon every
thing around. I hopped at every step, and
at last sung with the birds, in my gladness of
heart. Many things have been changed since
then; new fences have given the fields a new
form, and the shady trees have been cut down
from that loved wood; but though the scene
is changed, I can remember now how pleasant
that lane was, how sweet was the smell, and,
more than all, how happy my heart felt, on
that day when I finished reading the Bible
through for the first time. I hope all my
readers who have never read this precious
book through, will commence it now, and



read a number of chapters every day, till they
have completed it. But if you have read it
through, you should not be satisfied with this;
you should read some portion of it every day,
and endeavor to understand it, and follow its
There are a great many things in the scrip-
tures which I may speak about and explain
hereafter, but at present I wish you to take
your Bible or Testament, and turn to the first
epistle to Timothy, the sixth chapter, and the
fifth verse, and there you will find it written,
"But godliness with contentment is great
gain;" and if you find the fourth chapter of
Philippians, you may read, "For I have
learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to
be content;" then turn to the fifth chapter of
Hebrews, and you will find the command,
"Be content with such things as ye have."
You have read all these verses before, I sup-
pose, but did you think what you are com-
manded to do? Have you ever inquired of
any one what it means to be contented ? It
means to be satisfied with whatever you have.
Thiscommand is to your father, your mo-



their, your Sabbath school teacher, and your
companions. But you cannot do any thing
towards making them obey it. What then
can you do? 0 you can try to obey it
yourself. You'have a heart that belongs to
you, and you can know all its feelings better
than any one else can know them.' Try,
then, to remember that the command is to
you, and that you ought to obey it. There
are a great many children, and I fear some
who are older, who never seem to be satisfied
with any thing. When God sends rain on the
earth, that is just the time when they want
it to be pleasant; if it does not rain, then they
say it is dry and dusty, and they wish it
would rain. If it is cold, they wish it was
warmer; and if it is warm, they complain of
the heat. If these people are not contented
with the weather that God sends, it cannot
be expected that they will. like what their
friends do for them, and they seem displeased
with every thing. Such persons are very un-
happy; but that is not all, they are very
wicked too. I have known some children
who would never bear patiently the least dis-



appointment. If they were going any where,
and it rained, so that their mother thought it
best for them to put off their visit till a more
pleasant day, they would say, "0 dear, it is
always just so, it always rains when I want to
go out; I have a great mind never to try to
go any where again. I should think you might
let me go if it does rain, mother," or some
such fretful words. Wicked children! Who
are they complaining of? Are they angry
because it rains? Then they are complaining
of Jehovah, for he sends the rain. Are they
angry with their kind mother because she does
not like to have them exposed by going out in
the rain ? The Bible says, "Honor thy fa-
ther and thy mother," and they are disobeying
this commandment. Beside this, they are
not "content with such things as they have,"
and this also is very wicked.
I once knew a little girl who was hardly ever
satisfied with any thing she had. If her mother
purchased a pink ribbon for her bonnet, she
would say, "1 like it pretty well, but I should
rather have had blue;" and if her mother had
bought blue, she would have been very likely



content. Will you not follow the example of
this holy man ? I have no doubt St. Paul
went to God in prayer, to ask his assistance
when learning to be content; and your heavenly
Father will be as willing to help you to for-
sake your sins as he was to help him, if you
ask him. And now if you have read this
chapter attentively so far, I suppose you are
thinking, I hope I shall find a 'story by-and-
by." Yes, you will find one. I know how
well you love stories, and I have one to tell
you about a little boy of my acquaintance.


To-morrow," said Josephus, as he sat
by the window, looking out on the river which
rolled peacefully by the village, "I shall be,
if nothing happens, on the river."
"Yes, my dear," said his aunt Mary, look-
ing up from the book which she was reading,



"if nothing happens; I am glad you' do not
speak positively, for we do not know what
may be to-morrow; a few weeks ago your
cousin Edward was well and playful, and be-
fore the next day was gone, he was cold in
death." Aunt Mary cast her eyes again upon
her book, and Josephus said nothing more to
interrupt her ; but as she looked up occasion-
ally, she saw him still gazing upon the river,
and she doubted not he was anticipating the
sail of to-morrow, and thinking of the happi-
ness he should then'enjoy.
Josephus did not live in the village where
his aunts and his grandparents resided, but he
had come to spend a few months with them
during the summer and' autumn. The town
in which Josephus's parents lived, was far
from the water, and the little boy had seldom
seen vessels and large boats, and only once
had he been on the salt water. The village
where his grandfather resided, was situated
near the mouth of a large river ; and many a
time Josephus stood for a long while looking
out from a window towards the river, and
watching the steamboat as it went out in the



morning, or came in at night. But he could,
almost any hour of the day, see the little sail-
boats gliding over the water, or the row-boats,
as they passed back and forth from the an-
chored vessels, their slender oars moving all
at the same moment, and glistening in the sun-
At first, Josephus thought all vessels were
ships; but his aunt Sarah explained to him
that a ship has three masts, schooners and
brigs two, and a sloop only one. After this
he could easily know a ship and a sloop by
looking at the masts, but it puzzled him to
distinguish between a brig and a schooner.
But 1 said that Josephus was. expecting a
sail, and I suppose you are almost impatient
to hear something more about it. The' Sab-
bath school in which the little boy's aunts
were teachers, and which he had attended
since he had been with them, had been invited,
both teachers and scholars, to take a sail for
pleasure. They were to be accompanied by
the superintendent and the minister, who was
to deliver them an address.
When Josephus, first, heard of this; sail,



nearly a week before, he jumped from the
chair on which he was sitting, and, giving two
or three leaps in his gladness, he said, "0
aunt Sarah, you and aunt Mary are both Sab-
bath school teachers, and you will go, will you
not ?"
"Perhaps we shall, if the sail is taken,"
answered his aunt, "and if we do, you may
go with us. And do you know," added she,
"that Mount Hope, the place where the ves-
sel is going, was the home of King Philip, the
Indian chief?"
"King Philip, who was he ?" asked Jose-
"Have you never read of him ?" said his
grandmother, who was sitting by; "he was the
chief of the Narraganset tribe of Indians; one
who led them to fight our forefathers."
"0 yes, I do remember something about
him now ; I have read it in my history," an-
swered Josephus. I remember about their
taking him. An Indian and a white man were
together near him; and 'the English soldier
levelled his gun, but it missed fire ; the Indian
fired, and shot Philip through the heart;'



that's just what the history says, but I did not
know as that was any where about here."
Yes," said his aunt Sarah, on that very
river King Philip's canoe has often glided up
and down, and it is not impossible that on this
very spot where we now sit, the grass was
pressed by his feet, and the lofty trees waved
over his head. I would advise you, my dear,
to take your history, and read all you can find
in it about this great warrior, so that you may
gain instruction, as well as pleasure, from the
The days before the Sabbath were -soon
gone, and the children were highly 'pleased
when the superintendent announced that the
expected sail would take place on the next
day, if the weather was suitable. It was Sab-
bath night, when Josephus, having read his
library book through, was sitting, as I told
you before, looking out on the river, and
thinking about the pleasure of to-morrow."
In a little while it was dark, and aunt, Mary,
as soon as the. lamp was lit, led her little
nephew up to his chamber, and, after seeing
him snugly in bed, she kissed him, and then



knelt down by his bed-side to ask his heavenly
Father to take care of him till morning light,
and to protect him as long as he lived, and
when he died, receive him to himself in heaven.
She then left him, and the little boy's eyes
were soon closed in quiet sleep.
The next morning Josephus awoke, well
and happy, for God had watched over him
while he slept. Did you ever think, children,
how thankful we ought to feel every morning
when we wake, to him who has guarded us ?
Do you remember this verse in the Psalms,
" I laid me down and slept, and I awaked, for
the Lord sustained me ?" It is the same
God who sustained the writer of that Psalm so
many hundred years ago, that now sustains us,
and who guarded Josephus that night. It was
a fine morning, and many a child was pleased
to see the bright sun shining so pleasantly on
the tree tops and meadows. The teachers
and scholars were all to assemble at the meet-
ing-house, at twelve o'clock, and to go from
there in procession to the vessel. Many times
during the morning Josephus spoke of the an-
ticipated sail, and before eleven o'clock he


began to inquire if it was almost dinner time.
" Are you hungry, my dear ?" asked his aunt.
"No ma'am, but I am in a hurry to go to the
meeting-house," said he.
Before noon the sky began to be overcast
with clouds, and occasionally a few drops of
rain sprinkled the ground-but then in a few
moments the sun would dry up the rain drops,
and seem to say, as it looked out from be-
tween the clouds, "I will promise you a
pleasant afternoon."
O, it doesn't rain any," said Josephus,
as he and his aunts stepped from the door to
go to the meeting-house, but before they
reached it the rain came in large drops, and
aunt Sarah raised her umbrella.
They found a large number of people as-
sembled at the meeting-house, waiting to pro-
ceed to the wharf. As it rained but very
little, and might soon be clear, and the arrange-
ments had all been made, it was thought best
to proceed. The next thing to be done was
to form the teachers and scholars into a pro-
cession. If you had been there you would
have been very much amused, as Josephus



was, to observe the gentlemen who were pass-
ing backwards and forwards, to arrange the
children in their proper places. You might
have seen them at first in one corner of the
meeting-house, calling out a class with its
teacher, and, after placing them in their proper
order on the side-walk, returning, and taking
from the other side another class, and dis-
posing of them in the same manner. After
the last class had left the house, they proceed-
ed to the wharf. First, were all the female
teachers and scholars, walking two and two,
and,then the boys followed with their teach-
ers, in the same order.
It was a beautiful sight-more than four
hundred people, the largest part of whom
were children, and nearly all connected with
the Sabbath school.; as they passed, people
crowded to the doors and windows to look at
As fast as they reached the wharf they were
assisted to go on board the packet, where
some seated themselves on the deck, others
went into the cabin, and some of the small
boys were desired by the captain to go into



the hold that they might be out of the way,
and out of danger, till the vessel got under
way. The rain had been slowly but constant-
ly increasing, and now, every one who had
taken the precaution to bring an umbrella,
was glad of its shelter.
Shall we go on board ?" said aunt Mary
to her sister.
I hardly know what to think," answered
her sister; "if we were alone, I believe I
should prefer to return; but the gentlemen
think it will not rain long, and I should be
sorry to disappoint Josephus."
"0 do go, aunt Sarah," said the little boy,
looking eagerly in her face. They stepped
over the plank which was placed between the
vessel and the wharf, and the ladies seated
themselves on the deck, with their nephew
between them. A few moments more, and
all were on board. The rain was still in-
creasing. Aunt Sarah looked toward the
west-the clouds had.shut down over the blue
sky. "Had: we not better go on shore ?"
said. she to her sister. "I think it will be
a rainy afternoon, and there are a great many



people on board ; it will be unpleasant, and I
cannot but think there will be some danger."
Just as you please," answered Mary.
"We will go back," said Sarah; "come
Jbsephus looked up, with sadness and dis-
appointment on his face, but there were no
tears in his eyes, and he took hold of his
aunt's hand without saying a word, and step-
ped with her over the plank again, on to the
wharf. Here he stood with his aunts, to see
the vessel leave the wharf. He heard the
captain's loud voice, calling, Let go that
rope there-hoist the main-sail-take care,
boys, too fast there-cast off;" and presently
they saw the vessel, with her precious cargo
of immortal beings, turn slowly and beautifully
away, and sail up the river. All this time
Josephus expressed not a word of sorrow or
Perhaps some little boy says, "Well, I
should think any body might stay at home
contented when it rained." If you say so,
my little friend, you have not thought much
about it. Men and women miglh feel so, but



if you are a little boy, only eight years old,
and have never been in a vessel, you can think
just how Josephus felt; but then you-must
remember that he had been thinking and talk-
ing about this sail almost a week, and now,
just as he thought himself sure of it, he was
There was something else which I had for-
gotten to tell you before. The sailing party
were to have a supper of baked fish, fruit, &c.,
on Mount Hope; and Josephus was particu-
larly fond of fish.
Josephus was disappointed; he felt very
sorry that he could not go, but he did not see
as that was a reason why he should not enjoy
any thing else, and he took a little boy by the,
hand, whom his aunt Sarah had invited to go
and play with him (or rather whose' mother
she had requested to let him go, for she did
not wish to persuade him away without his
mother's permission), and ran gaily along,
before his aunts, up the hill, towards home.
It did not rain very hard, and the boys played
out of doors till the visitor went home, and
then Josephus went in and sat down. "I



had rather have given twenty-five cents, than
not to have gone," said he.
"Yes," answered one of his aunts, "I
should much rather have given it for you, if
money had been wanting, than to have had
you lose the sail; but it was the rainy weather
and the crowded vessel, you know, that pre-
vented your going."
The little boy said nothing more, except
remarking, a short time afterwards, "Well, I
have had one disappointment."
After walking round the room awhile with
his grandfather's staff, a favorite companion of
his, he sat down and read to his grandmother
and his aunts, while they were at work. He
was cheerful and pleasant all the afternoon,
and when supper time came, he did not say,
"How I wish I had some of their good baked
fish, and nice fruit," but he sat down quietly and
properly, and ate what was given him. The
rain increased towards night, and when the
packet came in, Josephus could but just dis-
tinguish it, though it was but little after sunset.
Soon after he saw the people and children



coming up the hill, with their clothes soiled
and wet, and their shoes muddy; he looked
up with a smile as they passed, and said,
"You and I will have our sail when it is
pleasant weather, won't we, aunt Sarah ?"


to prefer pink. Her new shawl was too large,
.and her old one too small, and nothing was
just right. Even if she selected her clothing
herself, she would frequently grow tired of it,
and say in a few days, "I wish I had not got
this calico; it is not half as pretty as another
piece I saw;" or, I am sorry I bought this
plaid handkerchief, I think the plain one was
handsomer." I suppose this little girl never
once thought that it was wicked to feel so;
but she ought to have thought of it; it is a
poor excuse to say we did not think, when
we might have known what was right.
Perhaps some of my little readers have this
same discontented spirit; and I wish each one
to pause a moment, and think whether you
have it or not. It is wrong in the eyes of
God for you to be discontented. Remember
that he gives you every thing, he makes the
weather just what it is, and he gave you just
such parents and companions as you have, and
if you are discontented with what they do for
you, it is fretting against God. If you try-to
be contented with every thing, you will feel
that you are doing right, and you will be much



happier than if you are fretful and discontented.
Beside this, you will make other people hap-
pier by cherishing a cheerful disposition. I
suppose you have a great many playmates, of
your own age, with whom you spend many
happy hours in play when you are out of
school, and whom you dearly love. There is
a great difference in the characters of children.
Some are always contented with whatever you
do for them, and whenever any play is pro-
posed., they are ready to join in it, with
happy faces and swift feet. Others you can
scarcely ever please; if you choose one play,
they prefer another, and if you play just what
they choose, you can seldom do every thing
to suit them. Now which of these children
do you prefer to play with ? Are you not
the happiest with those who are the best
contented and the most easily pleased ? Just
so it is with people who associate with you.
If you try to be contented with such things as
you have, you will be pleasant and cheerful,
and people will feel that if they happen to do
something which is not pleasant to you, you
will not fret about it, and they will love to be



with you much better than if you were fretful
and discontented.
Perhaps you may think it is quite a different
thing to be fretful, from what it is to be dis-
contented. They are different things, but
they almost always accompany each other.
To be discontented is to feel a complaining
spirit, and to be fretful is to use complaining
-words. The Bible says, "Out of the abun-
dance of the heart the mouth speaketh;" and
if you are constantly feeling in your heart a
complaining spirit, you will be almost sure to
use complaining words. Discontent renders
you unhappy, and fretfflness makes other
people so. So you see that -if you can get
rid of discontent, fretfulness will be gone; for
the heart that feels pleased and cheerful will
not be likely to make the tongue speak fretful
Now you have learned that discontent is
wrong, will you not try to cure yourself of it ?
And would you not like to be told of some
things which will assist you in overcoming this
sin ? I dare say you would, and therefore I
will mention three things which you must al-



ways think of when you feel the spirit of dis-
content rising in your breast; and I hope you
will remember them.
First, you must think how much better your
lot is than that of a great many other children.
Think how many poor children there are who
can hardly get food enough to eat, or clothing
enough to keep them from suffering. I have
seen a little girl with bare feet, a ragged bon-
net, and dirty frock, carrying round an old
basket, and going into the houses, and asking,
"Will you please to give me some cold
pieces ?" and when a lady gave her a piece of
dry bread, I have seen her eat it as if she
thought it delicious. I dare say you have seen
just such children; and did you not feel when
you saw them, that you ought to be satisfied
with such things as God had given you ?
Perhaps your father and mother are poor, and
you think if you were only comfortable you
would be content. Think then of the heathen
children, whose parents are so wicked and
cruel that they hardly take any care of them,
and frequently throw them into the rivers, for
the alligators to eat. I once read a story



about a man and his wife who lived in the
Sandwich Islands. They became angry with
each other about something relating to their
child, and after disputing some time, the father
took his child, and killed it, and digging a hole
in the hut.where they lived, he buried it, and
stamped down the earth over its body, and
they then sat down to eat, as quietly as if no-
thing had happened. How dreadful! Yet
this is a true story, for it was narrated by Mr.
Stewart, who was himself a missionary among
these people, and who saw this awful murder.
Tell me now, ought you not to be content
with what you enjoy, when you think of these
things ?
Second, think how much more God has
given you than you deserve. You have been
living on his bounty ever since you had life,
and yet how many times you have sinned
against him. Pause a little while, and think
how much he gives you in one day. You
have been sleeping all night, and you are
rested from the fatigue of yesterday, but you
are hungry; God gives you bread to eat, and
the clear, cool water to drink. After break-



fast you can assist your friends about 'their
work, and thus make yourself healthy, and en-
joy the pleasure of being useful, or you have
lessons which you may learn, and thus be fit-
ting yourself to be useful. Having spent the
forenoon in work, study, or play, you need
another meal. Your heavenly Father knew
that you would need food often, and he gave
you friends who prepare it for you ; you eat
and are satisfied. Soon it is night, and, after
feeding on God's bounty again, you lie down
quietly to rest, protected by his care, and
guarded by his kindness. O how much you
have to enjoy, even in one day How many
blessings are poured upon you by your merci-
ful heavenly Father And what have you
done to deserve all this ? Do you think you
could do enough in all your life to repay him
for his care through one day ? Perhaps you
do not even thank him for the many blessings
he has given you. You sin against him every
day of your life, and many times in a day.
Yes ; you have much more than you deserve;
and while you ought to thank him every day



for his goodness, you should certainly be con-
tent with just what he gives you.
Third, remember that God, in his holy
word, has commanded you to be content with
such things as you have.
And now, my dear child, will you not try
to be content,? The apostle Paul, that great
and good man, tells us in his epistle to the
Philippians, that he had learned in whatsoever
state he was, therewith to be content. After
he became a follower of Christ, he was perse-
cuted by those who used to be his friends;
he was put in prison; he was beaten with
rods; he was stoned; he suffered by being
deprived of sleep, and from hunger, and thirst,
and cold, and nakedness, and many other
things which he speaks of in his second epistle
to the Corinthians, at the eleventh chapter.
Perhaps at first this good man was disposed
to complain; but he knew that this was wrong;
for though he had not deserved this ill treat-
ment from men, it was God's will that he
should suffer it, and he tried to bear every
thing patiently, and he tells us that he learned
in whatsoever state he was,, therewith to be




Ye shall not steal, neither deal falsely."

STEALING is taking that which belongs to
another, and keeping it for ourselves, without
paying for it, and without leave. Every sin,
you know, commences in the thoughts and
feelings. If you see one child strike another,
on purpose to give him pain, you may know
that he first felt angry with him. If you know
a child who told a lie, you may be certain that
he first felt a wish to deceive. So it is with
stealing; those who commit this sin, have al-
ways wrong feelings first. -Do you remember
the ten commandments? You know one of them
is, "Thou shalt not steal." This you must


understand; for if you did not before know
the meaning of it, I have just explained to you
what it is to steal. But there is another com-
mandment, which you may never have under-
stood so well, or thought so much about as
you ought; it is this, Thou shalt not covet."
To covet is to wish for that which belongs to
Perhaps there are many who would not
dare to steal, who allow themselves to covet,
without thinking this much of a sin; but it is
breaking the commandment of God as much
as it would be to steal. This covetous feel-
ing, beside being wicked in itself, leads direct-
ly to the sin of stealing; for it is 'the next
step, after wishing for that which belongs to
another, to take it, if there is an opportunity.
I wish to converse with you a little about this
sin, as well as that of theft, and I wish you
now to stop, and ask yourself the question,
not only whether you have ever stolen, but
whether you have ever coveted. Did you
:never, when you saw your companions dress-
ed in gayer clothing than your own, or with
finer playthings than you have, say to yourself,


"0, why could not I have had those things ?"
This was a wicked thought, and you should
drive such feelings from you as soon as possi-
ble, lest you be tempted next to steal.


Miss Corey was a lady who taught a school
of little girls. This lady was willing her
scholars should bring playthings to school, to
use at recess, if they would be sure not to
play with them in school-hours; but when-
ever she saw playthings..in sight in school-
time, she always took them away, because she
knew that no child could attend to her studies
as she ought, while she was thinking of play.
One afternoon, one of the little girls brought
a small flat-iron to school. It was but a little
while before she had taken it out of her bag,
and was playing with it, and Miss Corey took
it from her, and put it on the table. When it
was time for recess, the little girl asked for



her pla [lilinZ, and Miss Corey was about to
give it to her, but she found that it was gone.
Does any one know where Ann's little
flat-iron is ?" said Miss Corey.
I don't,'" I don't," cried the scholars.
"Hush," said the teacher; "I do riot
wish you to speak if you have not seen it ; but
if any one has, she may speak."
Not a voice was heard. Miss Corey moved
the papers and books upon her table again, to
be 'certain that it was not there, and then said,
" The misses:must not go out yet, for there
is a plaything lost, and I fear some one has
taken it. The girl who has taken the little
flat-iron that laid on my table, must bring it to
-me immediately, else I shall be obliged to
search all your pockets, and find out the
No one came, and the lady sat down, and,
calling the scholars to her, one by one, she
searched the pocket and bag of each. One
of the very last who was called, was Sarah
Elliot, a little girl about five years old. Sarah
was an active, intelligent child, and she had a
pious mother, who taught her what was right



and, what was wrong; and Alisi. Corey did
not at all suspect that she was the thief; but
when she came, she looked very guilty, and
Miss Corey found the stolen flat-iron in her
work-bag. Miss Corey was sorry to have
one of her little girls so wicked, and she talk-
ed with her a long while about her guilt, tell-
ing her that she had broken the commandment
of the holy God, who was looking at her all
the time. After school, the teacher took the
little girl by the hand, and told her that she
thought it her duty to go home with her, and
inform her mother how wicked her daughter
had been.
Mrs. Elliot was much grieved when she
learned what Sarah had done, and after
Miss Corey was gone, she conversed with
her about her sin, and said, Why did you
steal, my daughter ?"
"Why, mother," answered the little girl,
"the flat-iron was very pretty, I wanted it
very much, and so I took it."
Sarah first disobeyed the commandment,
"Thou shalt not covet," by wishing for that
which belonged to another; and this led her




to disobey another commandment, "Thou
shalt not steal."
Did you never take so much as an apple
that did-not belong to you ? It is stealing, to
take a small thing, as much as a large one.
Do you remember the little verse which says,

"It is a sin to steal a pin,
Much more to take a larger thing?"

I have known children, who would not dare
to take a book, or a pencil, who would steal
an apple, or a piece of cake, in a moment, if
they had opportunity. But you are very
guilty, if you steal the smallest thing; for you
commit a great sin if you do so; and if you
begin by taking small things, the time may
soon come when you will take larger ones.



Marietta Alden was not a handsome little
girl, but she had a smiling countenance, and a
quiet, modest appearance. Marietta com-
menced going to school when she was very
small; and as she was a bright little girl, she
was soon a good scholar. She loved her
teacher, and her teacher in return was very
fond of her, because she was a good girl in
school. Her parents and grandparents loved
her too, and they took a great deal of pains to
teach her what was right, and to try to make
her a good girl. Marietta was much afraid of
telling lies, and careful to speak no bad words,
and she had never been known to take the
smallest thing that was not hers.
The summer after Marietta was six years
old, she went to school to a lady named Miss
Hargraves. Miss Hargraves boarded with
her uncle, Mr. Winthrop. This gentleman's
house was situated near the school-house, and
his orchard, in which were many fine apple-
trees, was but a few steps from the school-



house yard. Some of these trees overhung
the street, and there were frequently many
apples to be found lying by the road-side.
These the school-children always considered
as belonging to them; for Mr. Winthrop had
often said he was willing they should pick up
the apples that fell into the road, if they would
not beat them from the trees.
This summer the early apples were very
fair,and nice, and the girls and boys used al-
ways to run, as soon as their recess com-
menced, to see if any had blown off. If you
had been there while the girls were out, you
might have seen fifteen or twenty of them, of
all ages from three to twelve years, some with
their sun-bonnets on, others with handkerchiefs
thrown over their heads, and others whose
heads had no covering but the thick hair which
floated in the breeze, all hurrying as fast as
possible, to reach the apple-trees, and improve
the time in looking for fruit. And then there
was such noise and glee! 0, you might have
heard their voices a long way off, as they'
shouted, "0, I've found one 'tis as mellow



as meal!" "Come here, girls, there are ap-
ples under this tree, plenty 'enough."
Sometimes they used to venture into the
house, and ask old Mrs. Winthrop if she
would please to let them go into the orchard,
and gather a few apples from the ground un-
derneath the trees; and when she looked up
over her spectacles and said, "Yes, if you
will be careful not to tread down the grass
any where but under the trees," you cannot
think what a scrambling there was to get over
the fence, and pick up some apples, before
Miss Hargraves knocked for the recess to
There is one thing more which I must men-
tion, because I am telling a true story, and
this is a part of it, though I am sorry to be
obliged to say any thing about it. There
were some of the children who were not con-
tented with such apples as they could find on
the ground, but whenever they thought they
should not be observed, they would knock the
apples from the branches that hung over the
road, and even go into the orchard, without
permission, and take them from it. These


things Miss Hargraves had strictly forbidden;
but there were still some of the scholars who
continued to take the apples whenever they
had opportunity.
Marietta had been taught, at home as well
as at school, that it was wrong to steal the
least thing, and she had never taken one apple
from the trees, though she often went with her
companions to look for them on the ground.
One day, however, she went out at recess
with the other girls, as usual, and they ran
gaily down the hill to look for apples; but the
boys had taken their recess first, and they had
picked them all up; there was not one to be
seen upon the ground. The girls looked un-
der every clump of grass, and in the crevices
'of the wall, hoping that some might be hidden
away, where they might find them by careful
search, but there were none to be found.
Well, I don't care," said Nancy Brown-
ell, one of the larger girls, "I don't mean to
get cheated out of my apples. Mr. Winthrop
might have set his trees farther from the road,
if he had not wished us to take them. For
my part, I think, when the apples hang over




the road so, it is nobody's business if we do
take them. Miss Hargraves was sitting by
the table, fitting the writing-books, when we
came out; so she won't see us. Here, Mari-
etta, I'll jump up and catch hold of the limb,
and you help me hold it down, while we pick
some off."
"0 no," said Marietta, "I had rather not."
"Well, then, if you are afraid to take hold
of the tree," answered Nancy, "you look and
see if Miss Hargraves comes to the window;
and here, Hannah Hunt, you take hold of the
tree; come, be quick, we shall be called in
Hannah took hold of the tree, and Marietta
stood to watch for them. ..Ah simple-hearted
girl-she did not stop to think that in doing
this, she was helping them. to steal, and thus
becoming the same as a thief herself. She
was not willing to hold down the branch, but
she forgot that it was assisting the theft as
much to watch for the teacher, as it would
have been to do what Nancy first requested.
The bough was brought down, and Nancy and



Hannah held it fast, while some of the other
girls picked them off.
Miss Hargraves did not come to the win-
dow, and no one passed by to see what they
were doing. After the other girls had taken
what they chose, and Nancy and Hannah had
helped themselves largely, Nancy said, "Here,
Marietta, come and take yours; I have left
some of the largest for you, to pay you for
watching; there round that side they are-
come quick."
"No," said Marietta, "I don't care about
"0 yes," said Nancy, don't be afraid;
I am sure I would not stand and watch as you
have, and then not have any apples after all."
Marietta looked towards the tree; a fine,
red-cheeked apple hung close by her; her
mouth felt dry and parched; it looked deli-
cious, and she picked it off. She ate it, but
she did not enjoy it, for she felt that she was
doing wrong. Ah she ought to have left
them the moment they talked of stealing, and
to have said, as she was going, It is wicked
for you to take those apples, for the Bible



says, 'Thou shalt not steal;' and you know
Miss Hargraves has often told us it is wrong ;
I cannot help you in any way." But she be-
gan by neglecting to tell them it was wicked.
The Bible says, Thou shalt in any wise re-
buke thy neighbor ; thou shalt not suffer sin
upon him." This means that when you see
people about doing that which is wrong, you
ought to tell them that it is so, and beg them
not to do it. But Marietta had not courage
to do this ; she only told Nancy that she could
not hold the bough. This was her first sin.
The Bible says, "Neither be partaker of
other men's sins ;" but Marietta stood by, and
watched for the other girls, and by doing this,
she helped them in their wickedness. And at
last she yielded to temptation, and became a
thief herself. My readers, if you would avoid
any sin, do not allow yourself even to think of
it, or to see others do it; do not take the first
step, lest you may finally be tempted to go
the whole way. If Marietta had left her com-
panions the moment they began to steal, telling
them why she could not stay with them she
would have been saved from these three sins.



The misses were called in. Marietta went
with the rest. She sat down, and took her
book as-usual; but she could not enjoy study.
Her teacher spoke to her in a pleasant voice,
and smiled on her ; but Marietta felt that she
did not deserve kindness, for she was a wick-
ed thief. She felt sad all the forenoon, for
this was her first theft, and she could not feel
cheerful and happy, after committing such a
sin. She went home and ate her dinner; but
instead of playing with her baby brother, as
she usually did, she went away,' and sat down
alone, without story-book or play-thing. As
Marietta loved school, she was always ready,
without her mother's care, to wash her face
and hands,,and start for school in time to be
there in good season. She liked to reach the
school-house before her teacher, and then run
to meet her, and be the first to take hold of
her hand ; but this day the clock struck one,
the hour for school, and she had not yet started.
Why," said Marietta's grandmother, look-
ing out towards the school-house, the schol-
ars have all gone in ; it must be that school
has commenced, and there lays Marietta's



bonnet upon the table; it is' time for her to
As she said'this, the,old lady took off her
spectacles, laid down the stocking she was
darning, and stepping out into the kitchen, she
said Marietta Marietta !" Marietta came
from another room, but it was not with her
usual quick, light step ; and the moment her
grandmother saw her, she perceived that she
had been crying, and the tears were yet
on her cheeks. What is the matter, my
child ?" said her grandmother. Marietta said
noihini., but continued crying. "Are you
sick ?" asked her grandmother. "No, ma'am,"
said Marietta, crying louder than before; but
when her grandmother endeavored to find out
what ailed her, she answered only by sobs and
In a moment, Mrs Alden came through
the room, and passed into another part of the
house. Marietta followed her mother, and'
closed the door. 0 mother," said she, "I
cannot go to school; I cannot bear to see
Miss Hargraves, for I have been a naughty,
wicked girl."


"What have you done, Marietta?" said
her mother. "I have stolen an apple," an-
swered the little girl, crying as if her heart
would break.
"0, my daughter," answered Mrs. Alden,
"it is not strange that you cry; how could
you do such a wicked thing ?" Marietta told
her mother all about it, stopping every few
moments, in an agony of tears. And now,"
said the weeping girl, as she finished the story,
"What can I do, mother, what can I do ?
I cannot go to school, for I dare not see Miss
Hargraves ; 0 how I wish I had never stolen
the apple."
What do you think it best to do ?". said
her mother ; "what is always best when we
do wrong ?" It is best to confess it," said
Marietta, "and that is what I wanted to do,
all the forenoon, but I had not courage; and
now, mother, if you will go with me to school,
I will try to tell Miss Hargraves all about it,
and how sorry I am, and then we will go and
tell Mr. Winthrop, and if they will forgive me
this time, I don't believe I shall ever do such
a wicked thing again." "I will go," answered




her mother, "and I hope this will indeed be
the last time you ever commit such a sin."
"I hope so," said Marietta, as she put on her
bonnet, and took hold of her mother's hand.
As they passed out, Mrs. Alden said to
Marietta's grandmother, "Will you be kind
enough to take care of George a little while ?
I am going to school with Marietta." "0
yes," said the old lady; "but what is the
matter with her ? I am sorry she goes to
school crying." "She has reason enough
for crying," answered Mrs. Alden; "she has
been stealing."
As they went on, Marietta continued weep-
ing, till her handkerchief was wet with tears.
When they had nearly reached the door, she
said, "Mother, must I tell Miss Hargraves
that Mary and Hannah got the apples first,'and
they persuaded me to take one ?" "No,"
answered her mother, "confess only your
own faults. You have done wrong, and I
hope you are sorry for it; you can tell Miss
Hargraves of this, and leave others to do the
When thqy arrived at the school-house,



Mrs. Alden knocked at the door, and asked
Miss Hargraves to step into the entry; and
Marietta, in a broken voice, confessed her sin,
promising that she would try never to do so
again. Her teacher forgave her, and offered,
if the little girl wished it, to inform her uncle
of the theft at night, and ask him to forgive
her also.
Marietta felt very grateful to Miss Har-
graves for her kindness, and, as her mother
turned towards home, and she accompanied
her teacher into school, she felt that she was
much better treated than she deserved. The
next morning Miss Hargraves told her that
Mr. Winthrop had forgiven her, and she felt
her mind more at ease than it had been since
her theft; but she determined that she would
never again sin against God and man by
stealing. Years have passed away since that
time, and Marietta is no longer a child, but I
do not think she has ever, from that time to
this, stolen the smallest thing.
Was not this little girl a thief? Did she
not break the commandment of God, as much
as if she had taken a larger thing ? O yes.



I.have known men and women who ;appeared
to think it no sin to steal fruit, if they could
do so without being discovered ; but they are
very much mistaken. It is as much a sin to
steal watermelons, peaches, or other fruit, as
it would be to steal money.


Adeline Brooks was a little girl about nine
years of age, who attended Miss Remington's
school. Adeline did not live with her father
and mother, but with a gentleman and lady
who took care of her, and sent her to school,
for the work which she did in the family.
There was a little girl, named Harriet, who
sat in the same seat with Adeline. She was
a good'child, and one whom her teacher had
never know to tell a lie. One day Harriet
went to the teacher, and said, in a whisper,
"Miss Remington, I brought' a little pewter
plate to school this morning. I went and



bought it just before school time, and when I
came in I laid it in my desk to keep it till
school was done, and now it is gone, and I
,can't find it any where, and I thought I saw
Adeline Brooks have it. I gave two cents
for it, and I don't want to lose it."
Miss Remington told her that she would at-
tend to it, and Harriet took her seat. In a
little while it was time for school to close, and
Miss Remington'said, The school may be
dismissed; but I wish Harriet Ames and
Adeline Brooks to stay with me a little while
after the others have gone." As she said
this, Harriet sat down with a smile, for she
had not been doing any thing wrong, and she
had as lief stay with her teacher as not; but
Adeline,began to cry the moment she was re-
quested to stop.
"Mrs. Hall told me to come right home as
soon as school was done," said she, still
standing up.
"Sit down," answered Miss Remington;
"Mrs. Hall wishes you to obey your teacher;
sit down till I give you permission to go."
Adeline sat down, crying louder than before.


As soon as the other scholars were all out,
Miss Remington sat down by the desk, and
said, Harriet and Adeline, come here."
Harriet went with a quick step, and Adeline
followed, holding down her head. "Harriet,"
continued Miss Remington, "you may tell me
again what you said in school time."
Harriet repeated the story of her losing
the plate.
"Now, Adeline," said the teacher, "look
up, and tell me what you know about it."
"I don't know any thing about it; I haven't
taken her plate, or seen it; I did not know
she had one," said Adeline.
"Why, Miss Remington," said Harriet,
in astonishment, "I showed it to her, and she
said it was pretty."
Adeline dared not deny this, for she knew
Harriet would be believed; but she said, "I
have not got it, certainly."
Tell me where it is, instantly," said Miss
Remington, looking in the face of the guilty
"I don't know," said Adeline.
Miss Remington felt convinced from her

51 -


looks that she had taken it, and she asked her
again to tell the truth, -but she would not confess
that she had taken it.
At last she said, "Adeline, I feel sure that
you have stolen the plate, for you look, very
guilty; and, beside, I have known you to
steal before this: You say you have not: got:
it, but I recollect so many lies that you have
told since I became acquainted with you, that;
I cannot believe' you now. I: shall not -let
you go home till you have told me what, I
think to be the truth, and: if you ddonot do
this soon, I shall punish you."
After this, Adeline stood a moment, as, if:
hesitating what to do, and then she stooped
down and took off her shoe, and from it she'
took out a little pewter plate, bruised and'
broken, and said, "There, that is all I have
"0 that is my plate," said Harriet, looking
with a sorrowful eye upon her; spoiled play-
thing; "I know it by those yellow streaks';
but it was not all bent and broken so, when I
lost it,-it was new."



"Adeline," said Miss Remington, "where
did you take that plate from ?"
"I found it," said Adeline, trembling from
head to foot.
"No, you did not find it," replied Miss
Remington; "if you had found it, and not
known whose it was, you would never have
thought of putting it into your shoe; that is
not the place where you usually keep your
playthings ; and besides, if you find any thing
you should always try to find an owner ; you
know that such things do not grow in the
school-house, and nothing is yours that you
find here. Tell me immediately where you
got it."
Adeline confessed that she had taken it
from Harriet's desk, and that she had thus
bruised it that it might not be known.
Adeline," said Miss Remington, "this is
not the first time nor the second time that I
have found you guilty of such things, and I
think it is my duty to go' and tell Mrs. Hall
what you have done."
"O don't, don't, Miss Remington," said



Adeline, "I had rather you would whip me,
or punish me in any way, than tell her."
I wish you to be broken of this habit;
and if Mrs. Hall knows it, and she watches
you at home, while I watch you at school,
perhaps it may do good," said Miss Reming-
0 dear, 0 dear," sobbed Adeline, "I
will never, never steal again, so long as I live,
if you will not tell her."
"But how can I know this, Adeline?
You have so often told me lies, and only just
now have told me so many, that I cannot be-
lieve you."
I will not tell a lie this time ; I will speak
the truth, and you may watch me all the time,
and if you know me to steal any thing again,
you may go and tell Mrs. Hall, and I won't
ask you not to."
"Well," said Miss Remington, "I don't
know. but I will try you once; but what is
Harriet going to do for her plate ? That
pretty little plaything that she bought this
mrniorini, so new and nice, is now spoiled and
good for nothing."


I have got some cents at home, that Mrs.
Hall, gave me to buy any thing that I chose,
and I can take some of them and buy her
another like it," said Adeline.
"And how shall I know that you speak the
truth abput that ? If I were to go and, ask
Mrs. Hall whether you have money of your
own, would she tell me that you have ?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Adeline, "I do tell
the truth now, and Harriet may go home with
me and see if it is not so."
Miss Remington dismissed her, telling her
to be sure and bring the cents to buy Harriet
a new plate the next day, and to remember
that she should be constantly watching her,
and that she should certainly inform Mrs.
Hall the next time she stole, though it were
but a small thing.
Poor, guilty Adeline! how much she suf-
fered for her sin. From the moment she
took the plate she must have been constantly
in fear lest she should be found out; and then
when the teacher requested her to stop with
Harriet, the very girl from whom she had
.stolen, and when afterwards, she 3'as question-



ed so closely, and was obliged to confess
what she had done, how did she fear punish-
ment ;-then the 'fear of having Mrs. Hall
know it was worse yet And if she had a
spark of any thing noble left, how she must
have felt al the time afterwards to know that
she was never to be trusted again, but must be
all the time wretched. And all this pain
Adeline brought upon herself for the sake of
a little plate that cost two cents But suppose
it had been a plate of gold, or a globe of gold,
would it have been worth making herself a
thief and a liar for ? No ; there is nothing so
valuable-as will pay any one for stealing it.
The Bible says, The way of the trans-
gressor is hard ;" did not Adeline find it so ?"
You recollect, perhaps, that I told you that
it is with stealing as with all other sins; if we
allow ourselves to begin, we shall be likely to
grow worse and worse. Many years ago a man
was hung in the city of Boston. When he
was brought to the gallows, he confessed his
crimes, and stated that he began by stealing
a couple of eggs, and next took a jack-
knife; and he warned those who heard him, not


to steal little things, if they would not become
such a thief as he had been.
There is another thing of which I wish to
speak. Whenever you find any thing that
does not belong to you, do not keep it, but
immediately try to find its owner.



"Be temperate in all things."

DID you ever see a drunkard ? I wish I
could think you had not. It is a sad sight.
I am going to tell you something about drunk-
enness. As I was walking out, a few days
since, I passed near the store of a man who is
so wicked as to sell rum. Just as I came in
sight of the place, I saw three men coming
from it. Two of them were stout, healthy
looking men, who by their dress appeared to
be farmers ; and as one of them had a whip in
his hand, and there was a cart standing by, I sup-
posed they were men who had come to market.
Neither of these men had the appearance of


being intemperate; but the third was evidently
intoxicated. He was walking between the
other two, and one of them had hold of each
arm ; his face was red, his eyes dull and heavy,
and he would have fallen, but for the support
of those by his side. When they reached
the cart they stopped, and the two sober men
seemed to be consulting as to the best manner
of getting the drunkard in. He appeared very
unwilling to get into the cart; he had just
come from a place where he had plenty of
that which, I suppose, he loved better than
his wife or children, and he did not feel wil-
ling to leave his drink, and his noisy compan-
ions, for the sake of going home. His friends
persuaded him by telling him they had a fine
place ready for him. After considerable per-
suasion he seemed willing, and they gently let
go of him, and he held himself up by the
wagon, while they stepped into it, and, en-
couraging him to help himself all he was able,
they took hold of his arms and shoulders, and
drew him up into the wagon. They then
managed, by one's putting his arms round his
waist, and the other raising his feet, to lift



him over the board which was placed across
the wagon for a seat. When he got here he
thought he was going to sit on the seat; but
this would not answer-he would be liable to
fall off the moment the horse started; and one
of the men said, "Here, I'll find a good place
for you; come, sit down here, this is a nice
place. He then sat the poor man down on
the bottom of the wagon, with one side
towards the horse, and his back against the
side of the wagon, and he sat down on the
seat close by him. The other man unfastened
the bridle of the horse, and walked beside him.
As the horse started the head of the drunken
man fell down, as if his neck was broken, and
remained so till he was out of sight.
O how I pitied that man What a dreadful
thing it is to see a man that might be fitting to
dwell in company vith angels, and with God
himself, thus become like a beast! -Does it
not make your heart' ache to think of it? I
have seen a man lying by the road side, ap-
pearing as senseless and stupid as if he were
dead, not knowing when people spoke to him,
or when they touched him. I have seen ano-



their intoxicated man, who had strength enough
left to sit in a chaise, though he had not sense
enough remaining to know how to guide his
horse properly; and as I passed him, his
chaise tipped over, and he fell out, though the
road was smooth, and there was nothing in
the way to prevent his going on without meet-
ihg with any accident, if he had been sober.
I have known a man to drink till he was intox-
icated, and -then fall down by the way-side,
and be found the next morning frozen to death,
with his bottle by him. His spirit thus sent
from his drunken body into the presence of
that God who has said, "No drunkard shall
inherit the kingdom of God." How much all
these men suffered, just for the sake of drink!
But were they the only sufferers ? No;
their families suffered with them. They suf-
fered from pity to him whom they loved; they
suffered from mortification that they had such
a miserable husband and father; they suffered
for want of the more which he should have
earned for them, and for the ,care and advice
which he ought to have given them.




Catherine and Andrew Webber were the
children of a man who both sold and drank
rum. Catherine and her brother were bright
and interesting children, and might, if their
parents had taken proper care of them, have
been good, for they had no worse dispositions
than other children; but they had never been
taught the difference between right and wrong,
by their wicked parents. When Catherine
was between four and five years of age, and
Andrew three and four, they commenced at-
tending the district school, taught by Miss
Bradford. Catherine had been to school but
very little, and Andrew had not been any be-
fore this. Catherine did not behave very
properly when she first went to this school,
and as for little Andrew, he made nothing of
running all about the school-room, talking as
loud as he would have done at home, and
striking any child who happened to displease
him. If the teacher told him to sit down and
be quiet, he would answer, "I won't;" and


if she told him he must not strike, he would
say, "I will." These things he had been al-
lowed to do at home, and he did not know
that they were wrong.
Such loud talk and noisy actions disturbed
the school greatly; but Miss Bradford knew
that when little children first go to school they
do not know what is proper for such a place,
and they do not understand why running about,
and talking aloud, which are not wrong at
home, should be naughty at school. There-
fore she did not at first punish him for doing
what he did not know to be wrong, but went
to work patiently and gently to teach him what
was proper for school. The noise he 'made
was.troublesome to her, and it disturbed the
scholars; but Miss Bradford was accustomed
to taking care of children, and she knew he
would soon learn to be quiet, if he was taught,
and she did not mind this much; but it made her
feel very unhappy to hear such wicked words
from a little child. This,, she feared, would
be very difficult to overcome, for when she
told the little boy that it was wicked to use
such words, and he must not do it, he would



look up in her face as if he thought she must
be mistaken, and say, "My faver swears, my
faver swears." Miss Bradford pitied him
very much when she heard this, and she said
to herself, "Poor, neglected little boy, I will
try to teach you not to follow your father's
wicked example."
Miss Bradford soon found why it was that
these children had so little care and instruction
at home; for when she said any thing about the
wickedness of drinking rum, (and she often
gave the children such temperance lectures as
she thought they could understand,) little An-
drew would say, "My faver dinks yum, Miss
Badford, my faver dinks yum." Andrew
said this with a smiling face, pleased to have
something to tell, for he was not old enough
to feel ashamed of it; but Catherine, who
knew that Miss Bradford would not think so
well of her father for it, and who, I am sorry
to say, was not afraid to tell wrong stories,
said, "0, he doesn't, Miss Bradford, Andrew
doesn't know." This was when Catherine
first went to school, and before she had been
told by the teacher how wicked it is to tell



lies. After the children had been in school a
little while, and Andrew had become more
quiet and gentle, and Catherine learned to be
more careful to speak the truth, the little girl
said to her teacher, "My father and my uncle
both offered me rum this morning-; but I
would not drink it, and I never mean to take
any more, now you have told me what bad
stuff it is, and that it will make me sick."
At another time, as she was walking home
from school with Miss Bradford, she said,
"Mother whipped Andrew this morning."
"Indeed!" said Miss Bradford, "I fear
Andrew was a naughty boy, if he got
"Why," answered the little girl, "he only
told the boys that it was rum that my father
keeps in the front room."
"Well," said Andrew, who had hold of
Miss Bradford's hand, looking up with an
honest face, as if he thought his teacher would
not blame him for saying what was true, though
his mother did, "my faver do keep yum
One day Catherine and Andrew were b6th



absent in the forenoon, and came late in the
afternoon. Miss' Bradford called the little
girl to her, and said, "Why did you not come
to school this forenoon, my dear ?"
"I could not come, very well," said Cathe-
rine in a low voice, casting her eyes down as
she spoke.
"But why not, Catherine ? look me full in
the face, and tell me truly," said Miss Brad-
ford; for she was afraid the little girl was tell-
ing a wrong story, as she used to do.
Catherine looked up, and said, "My mo-
ther was sick, and she could not dress me time
enough for school; I did not have my clothes
on till almost noon."
"What is the matter with your mother ?"
said Miss Bradford, supposing she might be
very sick.
She had the head-ach, and she drank
rum, and got drunk," was the little girl's an-
"Hush, you should not tell such stories
about your mother, unless you are very sure
they are true; perhaps you could not tell what
made her sick," answered Miss Bradford.



"Why, yes," said the little girl, "I knew
she was drunk was what ailed her, for she
staggered about, and fell up against the bed
where I was, and-she looked just as if she was
Miss Bradford could not say, I think you
are mistaken," for she feared that Catherine,
young as she was, had seen too much of drunk-
enness not to know what it was; and she
could only say, as she sent the child to her
seat, "I hope you will never in your life take
one drop of rum, Catherine."
Poor Andrew and Catherine What'a sad
thing it is for children to-have parents who
teach them to swear, and who punish them for
telling the truth, .when they expose their wick-
edness, and who do not punish them for telling
lies. Such parents had Catherine and An-
drew Webber.
Shall I tell you another story, to show you
what children suffer who have drunken parents,
and how much the wife of a drunkard has to
endure ?




A friend of mine once called upon a lady
with whom' she had some acquaintance, and
whom she knew to be a worthy, pious woman.
Miss Ingersol, for that was the lady's name,
had been sitting but little while, talking quietly
with Mrs. Lewis on the subject of religion,
when the outer door suddenly opened. Mrs.
Lewis paused, without closing the sentence
she had begun, and looked anxiously towards
the door, while a cloud of sadness overspread
her countenance. Miss Ingersol also looked
towards the door. In a moment more the in-
ner door opened, and an old man, supported
by two boys, perhaps of twelve and fourteen
years of age, came in. The man was the
husband, and the boys the sons of Mrs. Lewis.
The gray locks of Mr. Lewis were tangled,
his clothes soiled, and his eyes heavy, and
Miss Ingersol saw that he was intoxicated.
As he came in he staggered, so as almost to
throw the boys down, who were trying to sup-



port him. When the old man got into the
middle of the room, one of the boys ran to
get a chair, while the other held his father up.
At length they contrived, after a great deal of
trouble, to get their father seated in the chair,
saying at the same time, "Come, father, sit
down here, won't you ?" One boy took off
his hat for him, and put it away ; the other
stood by him as a supporter, with one arm
placed under the shoulder of his father, while
his hand grasped the back of his chair to keep
himself from falling down under the,weight, at
the same time trying to place his shoulder in
such a position as to make a place for the old
man to rest his nodding head upon.
In a moment the other boy returned and
stood beside his father, and, putting his arm
around his neck, he said in a pleasant voice,
" Come, father, you had better go to bed now,
had you not ?"
"No, I guess not," said the man, in a
voice so thick as to be hardly understood.
0 yes, do go to bed," said the other boy,
leaning his face affectionately against his fa-
ther's, you will feel so much better, and you



won't be so bad in the morning, when you
have been asleep ; come, won't you, father ?"
"0 no, boys, no hurry yet, time enough
yet, I had just as lief sit here," was the reply.
Miss Ingersol rose to go, for she saw it
made Mrs. Lewis very unhappy to have her
witness such a scene as this, and as she could
do the poor woman no good by staying, she
did not wish to see that which she knew they
would be glad to hide from a stranger.
You see I have trouble," said Mrs.
Lewis, as Miss Ingersol rose to go.
Yes, may the Lord give you strength to
bear it," said Miss Ingersol, and she hurried
to go out; but before she reached the door,
the drunken man sallied on one side; his sons
tried-in vain to keep him up, and he fell,
drawing both the boys with him on to the
'floor. The lady saw no more, but as she
went home she thought, "What an affliction
it is to have a drunken husband surely that
woman needs the grace of God, to sustain her
under such trials."
I once knew a pleasant, good-natured little
girl, whom I used frequently to see, as she



went skipping by, on her way to school. I
loved to look at her as she passed, with her
bonnet thrown carelessly over her head, leav-
ing her rosy face full in sight. She had no
mother, and her sister was but little older than
herself. Her father was a drunkard, and he
could not spare money enough to hire a woman
to take care of his children, because he wanted
it f6r rum; so little Mary Ann often .went to
school ragged and dirty. After a while I
missed Mary Ann, and, on inquiring for her, I
found that she, with her brothers and sisters,
had gone to the poor-house. Her father
could have a plenty of work, and get good
pay, but he loved strong drink better than he
did his motherless' children, and he preferred
they should be taken to the poor-house, rather
than to work and support them.
A little while since, a man was seen passing
through the streets of a village, with his hands
fastened behind him with a rope. Behind
him walked a man holding fast the rope that
confined him, and beside him were several
others, whose watchful eyes were fixed con-
stantly upon him. More than fifty men and



boys were collected around this man, on all
sides, making it impossible for him to escape.
Women and children crowded to the windows
as this company passed, to gaze on and to pity
this wretched man. But what was the reason
of all this ? Why was'this man thus treated ?
He was a murderer. He had become crazy
by drinking rum, and had then killed his own
brother. He had been arrested, and was now
going to jail,
All these cases which I have described to
you were those which passed within my own
knowledge, and within a short time, too, and
yet think how much evil the love of rum
caused in these families. If it had not been
for ardent spirits, the man of whom I first told
you might have been at home, working for the
support of his family, and a comfort to them,
instead of being carried home from a rum
shop, hardly able to speak. If it had not
been for ardent spirits, little Catherine and
Andrew might have been properly instructed
by their parents, instead of being taught by
them to swear and lie. If it had not been for
this, the children of Mr. Andrews might have



been rejoiced that night would bring their fa-
ther home. .If it had not been for strong
drink, little Mary Ann might have continued
to go to school, instead of going to the poor-
house. And if it had not been for this, the
murderer might have been enjoying the soci-
ety of his brother, instead of wetting his hands
in his blood. The Bible says of strong drink,
It biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an
adder. How true it is!
My readers, will any of you ever become
drunkards ? Perhaps you start at the thought,
and say, "What, I? I be a drunkard, with
a bloated face, and reel about the streets, or
lie on the ground, unable to raise myself?
No, never while I live."' Be not sure of
that; the Scriptures say, Let him that think-
eth he standeth, take heed lest he fall. If
you would not be a drunkard, you must not
drink any intoxicating drink, unless it is or-
dered by a physician, as a medicine ; and in
the next chapter I will give my reasons for
thinking so.





Mother, as I was coming home,
I met a poor old drunken man;
He crossed the street from side to side,
And partly walked and partly ran.

He tottered like a little child,
And when he walked he raised his feet,
As if to step on something high,
Though there was nothing in the street.

I trembled every step he took,
Lest I should see him tumble down;
And as I met him, down he went
Upon the cold and frozen ground.

And, mother, then you cannot think
How dreadfully that old man swore;
He spoke such awful wicked words-
I never heard such oaths before.

I could not bear to hear him swear,
And hurried by with all my might;
But much I feared that he would lay
Alone in that cold place all night.



His locks were thin and white with age;
His life cannot be long, I know;
And what if he should die to-night,
Where would his wretched spirit go!

No, sister, no, I cannot play,
Go put my playthings out of sight;
For I shall think of that poor man,
And dream about him all the night.



"And take heed to yourselves, lest at any time your hearts
be over-charged with surfeiting and drunkenness.

THE reasons why we should not drink any
intoxicating drink, I will now give you.
First, while you allow yourself to take a
-little such drink, you can never be sure that
you will not be a drunkard. All the people
who are now drunkards once tasted the first
drop of liquor, perhaps while they were yet
children. It was but a little they first took,
and they did not intend ever to take too much,
but they drank a little more, and a little more,
till they finally became drunkards. And even


now, if you were to ask those who are in the
habit of getting intoxicated day after day, why
they drink so much, many of them would an-
swer you that they take no more than they
need, and that a little does them good. You
can now do without this kind of drink, and
feel as well, and better, than if you had it;
and if you never drink, you will never feel
the need of it, or the wish for it; but if you
once drink it, you may want more and more,
until you get a habit of drinking, and then it
will be difficult to leave it off. Do you know
what a habit is ? If you were to commence
on new year's morning to rise early from bed,'
and were to continue to do so every morning
till the next new year's day, you would learn
to like early rising, so that you would prefer
it to late rising; this would be acquiring the
habit of rising early, and it would be a good
habit. If you were the same day to play a
little on your way to school, and continue it
every day, for the same length of time, you
would become so fond of loitering that you
would not love at all to go directly to school,
as you ought. This would be a bad habit.



When people once get fixed in any habit,
it is very hard for them to leave it off. I
have heard persons who chewed tobacco, say
that they were sensible that it hurt them, yet
they knew not how to give it up after using it
so long. I have heard a woman who takes
snuff, say that when she first began to take it,
it was recommended to her as good for a
humor, that she learned to take it, hoping it
might be useful to her; and that when she
first used it, it was very disagreeable to her,
and she thought it a great task to take a little
once a day; but now she likes to take it, and
feels very uneasy without it. I have known
people to acquire the habit of daily chewing
things as a medicine that were extremely bit-
ter and unpleasant, such as rhubarb, camomile
flowers, &c., and they said that in a little
while they liked the taste of them. It is just
so about every thing which we get in the habit
of doing. It is very important, then, that
children form good habits while they are
young, and avoid all bad ones. If you do not
wish to be a drunkard, never take one' drop
of that which makes people drunk, and you



will then be in no danger of being a drunkard.
The second reason why you should drink
no intoxicating liquor, is this. It is poison,
and a little poison will be injurious to you.
In all drink of this kind there is some portion
of alcohol, and we know this is poison. Per-
haps if you take a very little you may not feel
it hurt you, but you may be sure that it will
do you no good. Would you like to take a
little of any other poison, because you did not
feel it do you an injury ? I have a story to
tell you, which you may read before I say any
more about this.


Mr. Elliot was a man who kept rum in his
house, and sold it to others, and, I am afraid,
also drank it himself. He had two little
daughters, named Harriet and Emeline. Har-
riet was about five years old, and Emeline
about three. These little girls were one day
playing in a room together, and after amusing


themselves for a while, they opened the door
of a closet which was in the room. Here
they found a decanter of cherry rum, and
Harriet was old enough to take out the stopper
and pour some of it into a tumbler for herself
and her sister to drink. The juice of the
cherries gave the rum a pleasant taste, and the
little girls drank a great deal of it. After
some time their mother heard them crying,
and hastened in, to see what was the matter.
She found her daughters lying on the floor,
with their cheeks pale, the blood running from
the cuts they had made in their hands with
breaking the glasses they used, and their
clothing wet with the rum which they had
spilled. The floor was also wet with rum,
and pieces of broken glass were strewed over it.
Mrs. Elliot saw in a moment what was the
cause of all this. She could not tell how
much they had drank, but she knew they were
both very sick. She encouraged them to
rise, but neither of them could stand. She
ran for her husband, and -one of them took
Harriet, and the other'Emeline in their arms.
They continued to grow worse, and their pa-



rents sent for a physician. When the doctor
came, neither of the little girls could speak,
their eyes were closed, their faces white like
death, and no pulse could be found at the
wrist. He was much alarmed, and feared
that neither of them would ever be any better.
0 it was an affecting sight-these parents
with each a dear little one in such a situation,
watching fearfully over them. For hours they
thus watched over them, while the children
sometimes vomited violently, as if their bodies
must be almost racked in pieces by the ex-
ertion, and then sunk back again, into the same
death-like stupor. After some hours they be-
gan gradually to grow better, and in several
days they recovered. Now do you think that
to take a little of that which could make any
one so sick as this, can be useful ?
The third reason is, it is a great waste of
money to spend it for intoxicating drink.
Suppose you were to see a man take a por-
tion of money every day, or every week, and
carry it and throw it into the ocean; what
would you think of it? Would not this be a
waste ? And is it not just as much a waste



to spend it for that which does no good?
But some people think it is not wasting money
to spend it for strong drink, because it is some-
times useful in sickness. Suppose you were
to go into an apothecary's shop, and there see
a man who was purchasing a large quantity of
pills and powders, and you should hear him
say, "This medicine costs a great deal, to be
sure; I need every cent of the money I can
earn for the support of my family; but then I
expect I shall be able to do a great deal more
work when I have taken all this medicine.
There was my neighbor over the way had a
settled fever; he took some ,of these very
powders and pills, and -he is now as well as
any body, and if I, who am never sick, should
take the same medicine, I expect it will make
me so strong that I can earn money, enough
to pay for it a dozen times over." Would
you not think the man was either foolish or
crazy? But he would not be more foolish
than those who spend money for rum when
they are not sick, because it may sometimes
be useful as a medicine.
All these reasons have been such as con-



cern yourself; now I will give you one rea-
son which concerns others, and this you
should think of much, for the Bible says,/you
know, "Love thy neighbor as thyself." If
you drink intoxicating liquor you will encour-
,age others to drink it, and to sell it. Suppose
you could drink a little, without being in any
danger of becoming a drunkard; there are
many who are already drunkards, or who are
in great danger of becoming such, and if you
drink it, they may think it right to follow your
example, and it will be to them a great injury.
If you do not become a drunkard, they will
be still more liable to do this, for they will
say, "He drinks, and it does not hurt him,
why should I be afraid to, do the same?"
And if you buy ardent spirit, you will encour-
age men to continue to sell it, for if nobody
bought spirit, nobody could get a living by
selling it; and if nobody, but drunkards bought
it, they could not long follow this business,
for drunkards are generally poor paymasters,
and the few who had money would soon spend
it all, and besides this the drunkards would



soon be dead, and there would be no rum-
And now, after reading so far, do you wish
never to become drunkards'? and do you
think you will try never to become such ?
And do you wish to be told how you may.
preserve yourselves from being intemperate ?
In the first place, resolve, now, while yet
a child, that you will never taste of any thing
that will intoxicate, unless it be ordered as a
medicine. Perhaps, if you live, there may
often be times when you vill be persuaded to
take a little, for once; you may be told that
this will not injure you, but do not heed such
advice as this, for when you once begin to
drink, you know not how soon you may be a
drunkard. I have a little acquaintance named
Franklin, who is a strong friend to temper-
ance. When Franklin was a small boy, only
two or three years old, he was very much
grieved that he could not have his name signed
to the temperance pledge. "Father," said
he, "I don't want ever to drink any rum, and
why.can't I have my name put down?"
When this little boy was six or seven years



of age, he went on a journey with his father.
They stopped to dine on their way, and as
there was no temperance tavern in the place
where they stopped, they were obliged to go
to a house where spirit was kept. When
.they sat down to dinner, there was on the
table a decanter of brandy.
"What is that?" said Franklin.
"It is brandy," said his father; do you
wish for some ?"
"0 no, sir," said Franklin, starting, back,
as if frightened.
"But why not, my son?"
"Why, father, don't you know it is poi-
son ?"
Franklin's father did not wish him to drink
the brandy.


Samuel Winslow'lived before any temper-
ance societies were formed. It was then the
custom, throughout the country, for people



to keep some kind of spirit always in the
house, to offer to their friends when they call-
ed to see them. In the place where Samuel
lived, a country town in Maine, there were
but few people, and most men were in the
habit of doing their own work; but in order
to assist each other, they used to have working
bees, as they call them; that is, when a man
had a large job of work to do, such as cutting
down trees, or hoeing a field of corn, he
would invite all his neighbors to come to
work for him, for a day, or half a day. This
they did without being paid for it, and he in
his turn, was ready to do them the same kind-
ness. At these times the man who made the
bee, and for whom the work was done, was
expected to provide a quantity of rum for the
refreshment of those who helped him, and if
he neglected it, he was considered very mean.
When Samuel was ten or twelve years old,
he was invited to go to a hoeing bee. He
was very much pleased to be considered old
enough to work with a company of men, and
he thought he would try to do as much work
as any of them. When the afternoon came,



Samuel was one of the earliest on the ground,
standing, hoe in hand, waiting for employment.
It was not long before the owner of the
ground came and told him' where to work.
Mr. Winslow, Samuel's father, was a farmer,
and the little boy had been accustomed to
work; he was a smart boy, and he determined
that afternoon to let all the people know it.
He worked with all his might, nearly keeping
up his rows with the men.
As soon as the company began to grow
weary, the bottle of rum, with tumbler and
pitcher, was passed round, and all were in-
vited to' drink.
When the gentleman came to Samuel, he
said, "Here, my boy, take something to
drink; you have worked hard enough to be
tired." Samuel turned out a little, as much
as his father was in the habit of giving him.
"O take more; so smart a boy as you will,
bear more than that," said the man. Samuel
gave the bottle another tip, and now his tum-
bler had almost as much rum in it as the men
drank. He took it, and again seized his hoe,
and sprang to his work. In a little while he



began to feel very strong. It seemed to hint
that his work did not fatigue him at all. He
was praised by the men who worked with
him, and called the most active boy they ever
saw, and he was himself astonished to see how
much work he had done.
Again the bottle was passed round, and
Samuel was urged to drink, and told that he
could work the easier for it, and he drank
again. He was pleased with the notice he
had attracted, and he began to feel very man-
ly. He thought about drinking rum, just as
some foolish boys do about chewing tobacco,
or smoking cigars, that it was manly, and he
helped himself largely to the liquor.
Thus the afternoon passed; and ,when night
came, Samuel had done more work, and
drank more rum, than he ever did before in
a half day in his life. It was sunset, and the
men started for home. Samuel also took his
hoe over his shoulder, and started for home.
Before he had done work he had begun to
grow exceedingly tired; his head ached, and
he felt sick at his stomach, and now he felt
poorly'able to take the long and lonely walk


home. As he went on, his head grew worse
and worse, and it seemed to him that he could
never get home. He knew not what was the
matter. -Every thing looked strange. The
trees, as he passed them, seemed swimming
strangely around, and the ground appeared to
grow higher and higher at every step. He
lifted his feet as high as possible, but still the
ground seemed rising, till at last it came up to
his head. He had fallen. He lay a while,
and attempted to rise. Again he fell, and he
began then to realize that he was intoxicated.
Poor boy he felt very much mortified, as
well as very sick. After several trials he
succeeded in getting up, and staggered on
towards home. When-he arrived at his fa-
ther's house, he dared not go into the room
where the family were, for he felt that he
was drunk, and he feared they would per-
,ceive it; so he crept off without his sup-
per, and went to bed. Here he lay for a
long time before he could go to sleep, vom-
iting every few moments, till he felt as if his
stomach could no longer bear such straining.
Finally he got to sleep, and he awoke late in



the morning, feeling weak and sick, and re-
solving that he would never again drink so
much rum, for the sake of being manly, or
for any other reason.
Samuel is now a man, but he is not a
drunkard. He suffered so much from being
intoxicated once, that he never wished to be
so again. "No," said he, as he told me the
story, "I recollect now how dreadfully I felt
at that time, though it is so many years since,
and how much I was mortified when my fa-
ther told me, that he should not give me per-
mission to go to a 'bee' again, because I had
been drunk. I remember it too well, to wish
the pleasure of drinking."
Samuel had never thought how bad it is to
drink. He did not know that rum was poison,
and he was easily' persuaded to drink. You
are not as ignorant on this subject as Samuel
was; and I hope, if you were to be placed in
such a situation as he was, you would do very
differently from what he did. If Samuel had
said, "No, sir," when the rum was brought
to him the first time, No, sir," the second,
and continued to refuse to drink, he would



have been saved all his suffering. I hope you
will first feel that it is wrong to take any intox-
icating drink, then resolve that you will never
do it, and then firmly say "No," whenever
you are asked to drink any of it.
If you would not be a drunkard, do not feel
sure in your own minds that you can never fall
into the habit of drinking. No doubt many,
who, when they were as young as you, were
as lovely and free from bad habits, are now
bloated, staggering drunkards, gone beyond
the hope of reform. The Scriptures say,
"Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed
lest he fall." He that trusteth to his own
heart is a fool." If you would be saved from
any sin, remember that you have a sinful
heart, prone to evil, and ask assistance of your
heavenly Father,'and lean on him, and he will
keep you from evil.
I hope you will feel anxious, not only to be
kept from this sin yourselves, but to do all in
your power to prevent others from falling
into it.




Look not every man on his own things, but every man
also on the things of others.

"CAN'T I pick the stems off from those
berries, and take the green ones out, just as
well as you, aunt Lucy?" said little Charles,
as he saw his aunt sit down with a large bowl
of whortleberries, which she was about to pre-
pare for use.
"Yes, you can do it as well as I can," said
his aunt, if you will only be careful; and I
should be glad to have you, for I can be doing
something else at the same time."
Charles ran to wash his hands, and his aunt


showed him how to pass the berries carefully
from one hand to the other, and see if there
was any thing which must be taken out; and
he sat down to his task. His little hands
would not hold many at a time, and it took
him longer to look them over, than' it would
have done one who was more accustomed to it;
but Charles did not mind this,, and he sat very
patiently till the last handful was put into the dish
that his aunt had placed for him ; and then, as
he stooped down to the floor to pick up'the
few berries that he had dropped, he said,
"Well, I have been of some use to-day,
haven't I, aunt Lucy ?"
"Yes; and do you feel any happier for
being useful? said his aunt.
"0 yes," answered the little boy, I like
very much to be useful."
Charles's mother had a plenty of grown-up
people to assist her, and as he was a small boy,
she seldom needed any help that he was able
to give, and he hardly ever thought of doing
any work when he was at home ; but since he
had been stopping at his grandmother's, his
aunt Lucy had told him that we all ought to



try, every day, to do something for other peo-
ple. Perhaps Charles had been willing to as-
sist any one who asked him to do any thing
for them, before this; but he had only done it
because he was requested to do it, without
thinking much about it. Now he tried to think
of ways to be useful, without waiting to be
asked, and he found there were a great many
things that he could do, which he never thought
of before. He could run up stairs and down,
to carry things from the chamber to his grand-
mother, who was an old lady, and had not such
active limbs as he had. He could wipe the
dust from the furniture, hold skeins of cotton
or silk to be wound, and run of errands, besides
many other things which he found he could do
almost every day, when he was trying to be
I have told you that Charles thought himself
happier when he was useful; do you think
there was any reason why he should be so ?
Do you think people are generally happier
when they are useful ? It may be that you
have never thought much about it. Well,
then, let me tell you what I think. I think-


yes, I know-people enjoy themselves much
better when they are useful.
You try to make yourself happy, do you
not my child ? 0 yes, I dare say there is not
a boy or girl who reads this book, who does
not try to make himself or herself happy. If
you could see all the scholars in your school,
after they are dismissed on Saturday noon,
you would see them engaged in a great many
different ways. Let us suppose we see them.
Some, perhaps, are grouped together playing
marbles; others have chosen a more active
sport, and you may hear the tramping of their
feet, and their loud halloo, from afar; and if
you come near, you may see many a bright
eye and rosy cheek, which seem to say, "We
are having a good time." Some little boys,
perhaps, are taking a long promised ride with
their fathers ; a few are weeding their gardens,
or mending their kites ; and here and there one
it may be, prefers to spend his afternoon in
reading, rather than quiet play.
And now let us see what the little girls are
doing. 0 look at that party of them, playing
under the apple-trees. They have tried to sit


still and sew, like women, long enough, and
now they have thrown down their knitting-
work, patch-work, and hemming, for one good
play. We cannot see all these" children, you,
know; but we can think very well how they
would look. They may be differently em-
ployed, but they are all alike in one respect,
that is, that they are seeking to find happiness.
So it is with us all, when we can do as we
like. Why is it that you play ?, Why is it
that you like sometimes to sit down quietly
Sand read? Because it makes you happy.
Why do you love to bring your chair close to
your mother, and listen to whiat she says to
you ? Why do you play with the baby, pat
her fat cheek, kiss her sweet forehead, and try
to make her'laugh ? 0, it is all because, as
you would say, you "love to," or, as I should
say the same thing, it makes you happy.
But we have talked so long about seeking
happiness, that I am afraid you have almost
forgotten what we were thinking of before. It
was usefulness. You recollect now, do you
4ot ? Well, I wished to tell you, that one of
the best ways of seeking happiness is to try to



be useful-that is, to try to do something
which shall do good. Those people are
always the most happy who seek to do good to
others, and forget themselves. But this is not
the only reason why you should seek to be
useful; the Bible says, As much as in you
lies, do good unto all men." He who is the
Author of our being, is constantly doing good,
not only to us but to-all men. When Christ
was upon the earth, he went about doing good.
If you read his/whole life, you will find that it
was for the benefit of others, not of himself,
that he did so many wonderful things. Would
you follow his example ? Then try to be
Think about the horses and oxen, who so
patiently assist man in his labor ; the cows,
that supply us with milk, and the sheep, Whose
warm covering furnishes us with clothing. See
the wheat and corn, which grow in the fields,
and the vegetables we eat.
The trees that wave in the wind, not only
provide us with fuel, but are made into a shel-
ter to protect us from the storms and cold;
and the little shrubs which grow beneath, and



which look as if they could be of no service,
and the very briers which entangle your feet as
you walk, bear delicious and refreshing fruit.
The flowers that blossom so beautifully in our
path, seem to say, as they breathe forth their
fragrance, that they also would do some good.
Even the flinty rocks, which appear at first
thought to be useless, are made to be a great
blessing tous, by furnishing us with materials
for building fences and houses.
Do you think, children, that your heavenly
Father made all these things for usefulness,
and made you to be of no use ? O, no, it
cannot be. He who gave you active bodies
and intelligent minds, gave them to make you
useful, as well as to give you happiness. Do
not think, my dear children, that you are too
small to do any good; for if you can do but
little, you can show your friends that you wish to
serve them, and thus give them pleasure. But
I dare say you can really be of use to your
friends, if you try earnestly to be so. I was
once acquainted with a very small boy, who
saved his parents considerable trouble and ex-
pense, by the labor' that his little hands per-


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