WILLIAM AND HARRY.

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Mr. Stevenson and his little son Richard, as they were one fine day walking in the fields together, pa.s.sed by the side of a garden, in which they saw a beautiful pear-tree loaded with fruit. Richard cast a longing eye at it, and complained to his papa that he was very dry. On Mr.

Stevenson's saying that he was dry also, but they must bear it with patience till they got home, Richard pointed to the pear-tree, and begged his papa would let him go and get one; for, as the hedge was not very thick, he said he could easily get through, without being seen by any one.

Richard's father reminded him, that the garden and fruit were private property, and to take any thing from thence, without permission, was nothing less than being guilty of a robbery. He allowed that there might be a possibility of getting into the garden without being seen by the owner of it; but such a wicked action could not be concealed from Him who sees every action of our lives, and who penetrates even to the very secrets of our hearts; and that is G.o.d.

His son shook his head, and said, he was sensible of his error, and would no more think of committing what might be called a robbery. He recollected that parson Jackson had told him the same thing before, but he had then forgotten it.

At this instant a man started up from behind the hedge, which had before concealed him from their sight. This was an old man, the owner of the garden, who had heard every thing that had pa.s.sed between Mr. Stevenson and his son. "Be thankful to G.o.d, my child," said the old man, "that your father prevented you from getting into my garden with a view to deprive me of that which does not belong to you. You little thought, that at the foot of each tree is placed a trap to catch thieves, which you could not have escaped, and which might have lamed you for the rest of your life. I am, however, happy to find that you so readily listen to the first admonition of your father, and show such a fear of offending G.o.d. As you have behaved in so just and sensible a manner, you shall now, without any danger or trouble, partake of the fruit of my garden."

He then went to the finest pear-tree, gave it a shake, and brought down near a hatful of fruit, which he immediately gave to Richard.

This civil old man could not be prevailed on to accept of any thing in return, though Mr. Stevenson pulled out his purse for that purpose. "I am sufficiently satisfied, Sir," said he, "in thus obliging your son, and were I to accept of any thing, that satisfaction would be lost." Mr.

Stevenson thanked him very kindly, and having shaken hands over the hedge, they parted; Richard at the same time taking leave of the old man in a polite manner.

Little Richard, having finished several of the pears, began to find himself at leisure to talk to his papa. "This is a very good old man,"

said he; "but would G.o.d have punished me, had I taken these pears without his leave?" "He certainly would," replied Mr. Stevenson; "for he never fails to reward good actions, and chastise those who commit evil.

The good old man fully explained to you this matter, in telling you of the traps laid for thieves, into which you must have inevitably fallen, had you entered his garden in a clandestine manner. G.o.d orders every thing that pa.s.ses upon earth, and directs events so as to reward good people for virtuous actions, and to punish the wicked for their crimes.

In order to make this more clear to you, I will relate to you an affair which happened when I was a boy, and which I shall never forget."

Richard seemed very attentive to his father; and having said he should be very glad to hear his story, Mr. Stevenson thus proceeded:--

"When I lived with my father, and was much about your age, we had two neighbours, between whose houses ours was situated, and their names were Davis and Johnson. Mr. Davis had a son named William, and Mr. Johnson one also of the name of Harry. Our gardens were at that time separated only by quickset hedges, so that it was easy to see into each others grounds.

"It was too often the practice with William, when he found himself alone in his father's garden, to take pleasure in throwing stones over the hedges, without paying the least regard to the mischief they might do.

Mr. Davis had frequently caught him at this dangerous sport, and never failed severely to reprimand him for it, threatening him with severe punishment, if he did not desist.

"This child, unhappily, either knew not, or would not take the trouble to reflect, that we are not to do amiss, even when we are alone, for reasons I have already mentioned to you. His father being one day gone out, and therefore thinking that n.o.body could see him, or bring him to punishment, he filled his pockets with stones, and then began to fling them about at random.

"Mr. Johnson happened to be in his garden at the same time, and his son Harry with him. This boy was of much the same disposition as William, thinking there was no crime in committing any mischief, provided he were not discovered. His father had a gun charged, which he brought into the garden, in order to shoot the sparrows that made sad havoc among his cherries, and was sitting in a summer-house to watch them.

"At this instant a servant came to acquaint him that a strange gentleman desired to speak with him, and was waiting in the parlour. He therefore put down the gun in the summer-house, and strictly ordered Harry by no means to touch it; but he was no sooner gone, than this naughty son said to himself, that he could see no harm in playing a little with the gun; and therefore took it on his shoulder, and endeavoured to act the part of a soldier.

"The muzzle of the gun happened to be pointed towards Mr. Davis's garden; and, just as he was in the midst of his military exercises, a stone thrown by William hit him directly in one of his eyes. The fright and pain together made Harry drop the gun, which went off, and in a moment both gardens resounded with the most dismal shrieks and lamentations. Harry had received a blow in the eye with a stone, and the whole charge had entered William's leg; the sad consequences of which were, the one lost his eye, and the other a leg."

Richard could not help pitying poor William and Harry for their terrible misfortune; and Mr. Stevenson was not angry with his son for his tenderness. "It is true," said he "they were much to be pitied, and their parents still more, for having such vicious and disobedient children. Yet it is probable, if G.o.d had not early punished these boys, they would have continued their mischievous practices as often as they should find themselves alone; but by this misfortune they learned to know that G.o.d publicly punishes all wickedness done in secret. This had the desired effect, as both ever after left off all kinds of mischief, and became prudent and sedate. Certain it is, that an all-wise Creator never chastises us but with a view to add to our happiness."

Richard was very much struck with this story, and said, he hoped he should never lose either a leg or an eye by such imprudent conduct. This interesting conversation was interrupted by their arrival at their own house; when Richard hastened to find his brothers and sisters, to tell them the adventures of his walk, and the history of William and Harry.

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ANTONY AND AUGUSTUS; OR A RATIONAL

EDUCATION PREFERABLE

TO RICHES.

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A very early friendship commenced between Antony and Augustus, who were nearly of an age; and, as they were neighbours, they were almost inseparable companions. The father of Antony, whose name was Lenox, possessed a very lucrative employment under government, and was besides possessed of a considerable fortune; but Mr. Littleton, the father of Augustus, was not in such affluent circ.u.mstances; though he lived contentedly, and turned all his thoughts to the welfare and happiness of his son, in giving him a well-grounded education, which he thought might prove of more advantage to him than riches, or, at least, might amply supply the place of them.

As soon as Augustus was nine years of age, he was accustomed to bodily exercise, and his mind inured to study, which at once contributed to improve his health, strength, and understanding. Being thus used to exercise and motion, he was healthy and robust; and being contented and happy in the affection of his parents, he enjoyed a tranquil cheerfulness, which much influenced those who enjoyed his company.

Antony was one of his happy companions, who was always at a loss for amus.e.m.e.nt when Augustus was absent; and in that case, in order to fill up his time, he was continually eating without being hungry, drinking without being dry, and slumbering without being sleepy. This naturally brought on a weak habit of body, and frequent headaches.

Both parents ardently wished to see their children healthy and happy; but Mr. Lenox unfortunately pursued that object in a wrong channel, by bringing up his son, even from his cradle, in the most excessive delicacy. He was not suffered to lift himself a chair, whenever he had a mind to change his seat, but a servant was called for that purpose. He was dressed and undressed by other people, and even the cutting of his own victuals seemed a pain to him.

While Augustus, in a thin linen jacket, a.s.sisted his father to cultivate a small garden for their amus.e.m.e.nt, Antony, in a rich velvet coat, was lolling in a coach, and paying morning visits with his mamma. If he went abroad to enjoy the air, and got out of the carriage but for a minute, his great coat was put on, and a handkerchief tied round his neck, to prevent his catching cold. Thus accustomed to be humoured to excess, he wished for every thing he saw, or could think of; but his wish was no sooner obtained, than he became tired of it, and was constantly unhappy in the pursuit of new objects.

As the servants had strict orders to obey him with implicit submission, he became so whimsical and imperious, that he was hated and despised by every one in the house, excepting his parents. Augustus was his only companion who loved him, and it was upon that account he patiently put up with his humours. He was so perfectly master of his temper, that he would, at times, make him as good-humoured as himself.

Mr. Lenox would sometimes ask Augustus how he contrived to be always so merry; to which he one day answered, that his father had told him, that no person could be perfectly happy, unless they mixed some kind of employment with their pleasures. "I have frequently observed," continued Augustus, "that the most tedious and dull days I experience are those in which I do no kind of work. It is properly blending exercise with amus.e.m.e.nt that keeps me in such good health and spirits. I fear neither the winds nor the rain, neither the heat of summer nor the cold of winter, and I have frequently dug up a whole plat in my garden before Antony has quitted his pillow in the morning."

Mr. Lenox felt the propriety of such conduct, and a sigh unavoidably escaped him. He then went to consult Mr. Littleton in what manner he should act, in order to make Antony as hearty and robust as Augustus.

Mr. Littleton informed him in what manner he treated his son. "The powers of the body and mind," said he, "should be equally kept in exercise, unless we mean them to be unserviceable, as money buried in the ground would be to its owner. Nothing can be more injurious to the health and happiness of children, than using them to excess of delicacy, and, under the idea of pleasing them, to indulge them in their whimsical and obstinate humours. The person who has been accustomed from his childhood to have his humours flattered, will be exposed to many vexatious disappointments. He will sigh after those things, the want or possession of which will equally make him miserable. I have, however, every reason to believe, that Augustus will never be that man."

Mr. Lenox saw the truth of these arguments, and determined to adopt the same plan for the treatment of his son. But it was now too late, for Antony was fourteen years of age, and his mind and body so much enervated, that he could not bear the least fatiguing exertions. His mother, who was as weak as himself, begged of her husband not to tease their darling, and he was at last obliged to give way to her importunities, when Antony again sunk into his former destructive effeminacy. The strength of his body declined, in proportion as his mind was degraded by ignorance.

As soon as Antony had entered his seventeenth year, his parents sent him to the university, intending to bring him up to the study of the law; and Augustus being intended for the same profession, he accompanied him thither. Augustus, in his different studies and pursuits, had never had any other instructor than his father; while Antony had as many masters as there are different sciences, from whom he learned only a superficial education, by retaining little more than the terms used in the different branches he had studied. Augustus, on the contrary, was like a garden, whose airy situation admits the rays of the sun to every part of it, and in which every seed, by a proper cultivation, advances rapidly to perfection. Already well instructed, he still thirsted after further knowledge, and his diligence and good behaviour afforded a pattern for imitation to all his companions. The mildness of his temper, and his vivacity and sprightly humour, made his company at all times desirable; he was universally beloved, and every one was his friend.

Antony was at first happy of being in the same room with Augustus; but his pride was soon hurt on seeing the preference that was given by every one to his friend, and he could not think of any longer submitting to so mortifying a distinction. He therefore found some frivolous excuse, and forsook the company of Augustus.

Antony, having now n.o.body to advise or check him, gave loose to his vitiated taste, and wandered from pleasure to pleasure in search of happiness. It will be to little purpose to say, how often he blushed at his own conduct; but, being hardened by a repet.i.tion of his follies, he gradually fell into the grossest irregularities. To be short, he at last returned home with the seeds of a mortal distemper in his bosom, and, after languishing a few months, expired in the greatest agonies.

Some time after, Augustus returned home to his parents, possessed of an equal stock of learning and prudence; his departure from the university being regretted both by his teachers and companions. It may easily be supposed, that his family received him with transports of joy. You know not, my little readers, how pleasing are those tender parental feelings, which arise from the prospect of seeing their children beloved and respected! His parents thought themselves the happiest people, and tears of joy filled their eyes when they beheld him.

Augustus had not been long at home, before a considerable employment in his profession was conferred on him, with the unanimous approbation of all who were acquainted with his character. This enabled him to gratify his generous desire of promoting the felicity of his friends, and a sense of their happiness added to his own. He was the comfort of his parents in the evening of their lives, and with interest repaid their attention and care of him in his childhood. An amiable wife, equally endued with sense, virtue, and beauty, who bore him children like himself, completed his happiness.

In the characters of Antony and Augustus, we see the fatal consequences of giving way to folly and vice, and what a happy effect the contrary conduct has. Antony fell a victim to the misguided indulgence of his parents, while Augustus lived to be happy by the prudent management he received in his infancy.

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THE DESTRUCTIVE CONSEQUENCES

OF DISSIPATION AND LUXURY.

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On a fine evening, in the midst of summer, Mr. Drake and his son Albert took a walk in some of the most agreeable environs of the city. The sky was clear, the air cool; and the purling streams, and gentle zyphyrs rustling in the trees, lulled the mind into an agreeable gloom. Albert, enchanted with the natural beauties that surrounded him, could not help exclaiming, "What a lovely evening!" He pressed his father's hand, and, looking up to him, said, "You know not, papa, what thoughts rise in my heart!" He was silent for a moment, and then looked towards heaven, his eyes moistened with tears. "I thank G.o.d," said he, "for the happy moments he now permits me to enjoy! Had I my wish, every one should taste the beauties of this evening as I do. Were I the king of a large country, I would make my subjects perfectly happy."