Here is a fact we have from a very successful merchant. When he began business for himself, he carried his wares from shop to shop. At length his business increased to such an extent, that he hired a room at the Marlboro Hotel, in Boston, during the business season, and thither the merchants, having been duly notified, would repair to make purchases. Among all his customers, there was only one man who would carry to his store the goods which he had purchased. The buyers asked to have their goods carried, and often this manufacturer would carry them himself. But there was one merchant, and the largest buyer of the whole number, who was not ashamed to be seen carrying a case of goods through the streets. Sometimes he would purchase four cases, and he would say, Now, I will take two, and you take two, and we will carry them right over to the store. So the manufacturer and the merchant often went through the streets of Boston quite heavily loaded. This merchant, of all the number who went to the Marlboro Hotel for their purchases, succeeded in business. He became a wealthy man when all the others failed. The manufacturer, who was not ashamed to help himself, is now living one of the wealthy men of Massachusetts, ready to aid, by his generous gifts, every good object that comes along, and honored by all who know him.
You have often heard and read the maxim, God helps those who help themselves. Is it not true?
William M. Thayer.THE STORY OF JOHNNY DAWDLE
HERE, little folks, listen; Ill tell you a tale,
Though to shock and surprise you I fear it wont fail;
Of Master John Dawdle my story must be,
Who, Im sorry to say, is related to me.
And yet, after all, hes a nice little fellow:
His eyes are dark brown and his hair is pale yellow;
And though not very clever or tall, it is true
He is better than many, if worse than a few.
But he dawdles at breakfast, he dawdles at tea
Hes the greatest small dawdle that ever could be;
And when in his bedroom, it is his delight
To dawdle in dressing at morning and night.
And oh! if you saw him sit over a sum,
Youd much wish to pinch him with finger and thumb;
And then, if you scold him, he looks up so meek;
Dear me! one would think that he hardly could speak.
Each morning the same he comes tumbling down,
And often enough is received with a frown,
And a terrible warning of something severe
Unless on the morrow he sooner appear.
But where does he live? That Id rather not say,
Though, if truth must be told, I have met him to-day;
I meant just to pass him with merely a bow,
But he stopped and conversed for a minute or so.
Well, where are you going? politely said I;
To which he replied, with a groan and a sigh,
Ive been doing my Latin from breakfast till dinner,
And pretty hard work that is for a beginner.
But now I suppose you are going to play
And have pleasure and fun for the rest of the day?
Indeed, but Im not theres that bothering sum;
And then theres a tiresome old copy to come.
Dear me! I replied, and I thought it quite sad
There should be such hard work for one poor little lad;
But just at that moment a lady passed by,
And her words soon made clear that mistaken was I:
Now, then, Mr. Dawdle, get out of my way!
I suppose you intended to stop here all day;
The bell has done ringing, and yet, I declare,
Your hands are not washed, nor yet brushed is your hair.
Ho, ho! I exclaimed; Mr. Dawdle, indeed!
And I took myself off with all possible speed,
Quite distressed that I should for a moment be seen
With one who so lazy and careless had been.
So now, if you please, we will wish him good-bye;
And if you should meet him by chance, as did I,
Just bid him good-morning, and say that a friend
(Only dont mention names) hopes he soon may amend.
THE MOTHERLESS BOY
ONE day, about a year ago, the door of my sitting-room was thrown suddenly open, and the confident voice of Harvey thus introduced a stranger:
Heres Jim Peters, mother.
I looked up, not a little surprised at the sight of a ragged, barefoot child.
Before I had time to say anything, Harvey went on:
He lives round in Blakes Court and hasnt any mother. I found him on a doorstep feeding birds.
My eyes rested on the childs face while my boy said this. It was a very sad little face, thin and colorless, not bold and vicious, but timid and having a look of patient suffering. Harvey held him firmly by the hand with the air of one who bravely protects the weak.
No mother! said I, in tones of pity.
No, maam; he hasnt any mother. Have you, Jim?
No, answered the child.
Shes been dead ever so long; hasnt she, Jim?
Yes, ever since last winter, he said as he fixed his eyes, into which I saw the tears coming, upon my face. My heart moved toward him, repulsive as he was because of his rags and dirt.
One of Gods little lambs straying on the cold and barren hills of life, said a voice in my heart. And then I felt a tender compassion for the strange, unlovely child.
Where do you live? I asked.
Round in Blakes Court, he replied.
Who with?
Old Mrs. Flint; but she doesnt want me.
Why not?
Oh, because Im nothing to her, she says, and she doesnt want the trouble of me. He tried to say this in a brave, dont-care sort of way, but his voice faltered and he dropped his eyes to the floor. How pitiful he looked!
Poor child! I could not help saying aloud.
Light flashed over his pale face. It was something new to him, this interest and compassion.
One of Gods little lambs. I heard the voice in my heart saying this again. Nobody to love him nobody to care for him. Poor little boy! The hand of my own child, my son who is so very dear to me, had led him in through our door and claimed for him the love and care so long a stranger to his heart. Could I send him out and shut the door upon him, when I knew that he had no mother and no home? If I heeded not the cry of this little one precious in Gods sight, might I not be thought unworthy to be the guardian of another lamb of his fold whom I loved as my own life?
Ive got heaps of clothes, mother a great many more than I want. And my bed is wide. Theres room enough in the house, and weve plenty to eat, said Harvey, pleading for the child. I could not withstand all these appeals. Rising, I told the little stranger to follow me. When we came back to the sitting-room half an hour afterward, Jim Peters would hardly have been known by his old acquaintances, if any of them had been there. A bath and clean clothes had made a wonderful change in him.
I watched the poor little boy, as he and Harvey played during the afternoon, with no little concern of mind. What was I to do with him? Clean and neatly dressed, there was a look of refinement about the child which had nearly all been hidden by rags and dirt. He played gently, and his voice had in it a sweetness of tone, as it fell every now and then upon my ears, that was really winning. Send him back to Mrs. Flints in Blakes Court? The change I had wrought upon him made this impossible. No, he could not be sent back to Mrs. Flints, who didnt want the trouble of him. What then?