A true gentleman is always courteous. He answers respectfully when spoken to--no matter by whom. Do you remember the anecdote of General Washington, who raised his hat and bowed politely to a coloured man he met, who had previously saluted him with the usual civility of the race? A friend with him expressed surprise. "Do you think," said he, "I would be less polite than a negro?" I hope, when you are tempted to be uncivil to those whom you consider beneath you, you will not forget the good example of the Father of his Country. I suppose the secret of Washington's politeness and greatness was, as his mother proudly said of him, that "George was always a good boy!"

He was a gentleman--such a gentleman as I should be glad to believe every boy who reads this book will one day be. If you would be polite to all, you must cultivate kind feelings towards all. A gentleman is not a rough man. He may have great energy and power of character, as had Washington, but still he is a _gentle_-man.

GENEROUS NELLY; OR, THE WILLING MIND.

Nelly Wallace is about six years old. She has a pleasant, attractive face. Her long hair curls in ringlets over her neck. She is one of the neatest and most gentle children I ever saw, and gives her mother but little trouble. Indeed, she is so orderly, and active, that she is quite an a.s.sistance to her. She sings like a lark, and is patient as a lamb. She is very generous, too.

Her father is obliged to live on a small salary.

Nelly is a favourite with her father's friends, and often receives a present from them.

One day, she heard her mother say to her father that they needed some particular article very much, but he told her he had not money enough to purchase it. She quietly left the room, and went up stairs.

Presently she returned, and placed a five-dollar gold-piece, which had been given to her, in her mother's hand. "Please use my money, mother," she said; "I should rather you would use it for what you need, than keep it to buy something for myself."

At another time, her father was obliged to take a journey on business.

Nelly brought forth her purse, and offered its contents to him to defray his expenses. Dear child! she knew nothing about the cost of travelling, nor the value of money. She thought her three-cent pieces would be all he would need.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Nelly brought forth her purse.]

Paul, when exhorting the Corinthian church to liberality, says, "If there be first a willing mind, it is accepted according to that a man hath, and not according to that he hath not." Nelly had a willing mind, and her father was as much gratified by her thoughtful consideration as he would have been if she had been able to furnish him all that he needed. So our heavenly Father is pleased with his children when they do what they can to provide for the wants of the needy; and the smallest gift, offered in love, is not forgotten by him.

You recollect that our Saviour, when he saw the rich men casting their gifts into the treasury and the poor woman casting in her two mites, said that she had cast in more than they all. They had given of their abundance; it had cost them no self-denial--but she, of her penury, had cast in all the living that she had. G.o.d looks not only on the outward act, but at the heart. He sees the motives which actuate us.

He saw Nelly's heart, and he approved her generosity. He gave her an approving conscience, which made her very happy--far happier than she could have been if she had been selfish, and thought only of her own enjoyment.

LOVEST THOU ME?

Jesus, after his resurrection from the dead, appeared at various times to his disciples. Once, when Peter, John, and a few others were fishing in the Sea of Tiberias, he stood on the sh.o.r.e, and inquired of them, "Have ye any meat?" They answered, "No." Then he directed them to cast their net on the right side of the ship, and they should find fish. They did so, and caught one hundred and fifty-three. The disciples then knew it was Jesus who had spoken to them. After they had secured the fish by drawing the net to the sh.o.r.e, Jesus invited them to dine with him.

The disciples had observed, so soon as they came to land, a fire of coals, and "fish laid thereon, and bread." This was the refreshment our Lord had prepared for them, and he, himself, gave them the simple repast.

After they had dined, our Saviour said to Peter three times, "Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?" The first and the second time Peter answered, "Yea, Lord, thou knowest that I love thee." Peter was grieved because Jesus said unto him the third time, "Lovest thou me?"

and he replied, "Thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee."

How did Peter know that he loved Jesus? It was not because he always did right, for a short time before he had denied his Lord, and had more than once said that he did not know him! Yet, notwithstanding this, when he was now asked, "Lovest thou me?" he could unhesitatingly answer, "Thou knowest that I love thee."

If you should be asked, "Do you love your parents?" you would immediately answer, "Yes." You know you love them. How do you know it?

It might not be so easy for you to answer this question as the other, but at the same time you are conscious that you do love them. You feel that they are your best friends. They provide for all your wants. They furnish you with food and clothes and the means of education. They take care of you when you are well and when you are ill. You feel grateful to them for what they do for you, and you enjoy being with them, and talking with them. You like to please them, and it makes you sad when you have grieved them. Children who love their parents very dearly sometimes do what they do not approve; but they are always sorry for it, as Peter was when he went out and wept bitterly.

If you should be asked, "Do you love your heavenly Father?" could you as readily answer, "Yes?" Do you like to hear about him and his wonderful works? Is the story of Jesus' love for lost man one that interests you? Is it pleasant to you to think of living forever with the Lord when you leave this world?

If you love your Father in heaven, you do not love to do what is wrong. If you are overcome by temptation, and sin against him, you are sorry, as you are when you sin against your earthly parents.

Children, and grown people too, sometimes seem to think that religion is to be kept by itself, separate and distinct from our daily duties, and that it consists in praying, going to church, hearing sermons, and wearing a sober face. It is true the Christian often feels sober, but there is no one who may be so cheerful as he, for there is none that can be so truly happy. True piety extends to all the acts of our lives, and influences them all. It does not forbid our doing any thing that it is right for us to do. A Christian child enjoys play quite as well as any other child.

If Jesus should say to you to-day, as he did to Peter, "Lovest thou me?" could you answer, "Yes, Lord, thou knowest that I love thee?" It is just as easy for you to know whether you love him as it is for you to know whether you love your father and mother. I trust there are many children who do love the Saviour, and who wish to live to be good and to do good.

MY LITTLE BAG.

On my table lies a little bag. It has no beauty to render it valuable.

It is not made of silk or velvet. The material is plain muslin, and that by no means of the finest texture. It is not very neatly made.

The st.i.tches are irregular. Sometimes they are piled one above another, and again they are scattered far apart. The hemming shows that no skilful seamstress held the needle. And yet this bag has afforded me much pleasure. Every st.i.tch was made by the hand of love, and with a desire to gratify me and add to my happiness. It was a work of toil, for the fingers were unused to such labour. Patient industry and persevering effort were required to accomplish it. Self-denial, too, was practised, for play was forsaken on its account.

It was a gift to me from a dear child; a token of his purest and warmest affection; and that has made this coa.r.s.e muslin more precious than the richest material could be, which had no such extraneous value.

What a blessing is love! How it enriches us! Without it we must ever be poor. "G.o.d is love," and he has taught us to love one another.

"Love is the fulfilling of the law." We must love our neighbour as ourselves.

"Little deeds of kindness, Little words of love, Make our earth an Eden, Like the heaven above."

No offering of true love is valueless, however small or imperfect it may be. My little bag is rich in pleasant a.s.sociations, and I never look upon it but with a full heart.

G.o.d does not accept what we do for him because of any peculiar excellence in our devotion, but because it is the result of our love to him.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

DO YOU LIKE YOUR SEAT?

On the day after one Fourth of July, I was obliged to go into the city. The cars were crowded with those who were returning, after spending our national anniversary in the country. How much they must have enjoyed that day of release from city labour, and dust, and close streets bounded by high brick houses! How beautiful to them the green fields, the shady trees, and the soft-flowing river! How they gazed on the hills luxuriating in verdure, and the valleys rich with their treasures of wealth and beauty!

"G.o.d made the country," and all his works are perfect. I pity those who are pent up in a large prison-city with nothing but a dwarf-maple before their windows which at all resembles the country, and who have to look up, up, up, before they can get a glimpse of the blue sky, and the fleecy clouds which sail majestically along, ever varying from one form of beauty to another. Thank G.o.d, my young friends, that he has given you a country home, and never leave it, unless stern necessity compels you to make your abode in the hot, crowded, feverish city.

The cars, on the morning of the fifth, were, as I have told you, crowded, and it was difficult to find unoccupied seats. A gentleman and his wife entered a car, near the door of which were two seats with only one person in each. The first was occupied by a boy about fifteen. The gentleman politely asked him if he would sit with another gentleman, that he and the lady who was with him might not be separated. The first impulse of the boy was a civil one, and he started to rise; but the second thought was ungentlemanly, ungenerous, and extremely selfish. "I like my seat very well," he muttered, and drew back to the window and looked out. Perhaps even then he began to feel ashamed of such rudeness.

The gentleman behind him immediately arose, and offered his seat. It was accepted with a bow, and a "thank you, sir." The lady was immediately behind the boy, and, as she seated herself, she said to him, in a low, kind voice, "I fear you will never be a gentleman." He made no reply, nor did he move his face from the window, but his very ears blushed. He was evidently ashamed. During the whole ride he kept nearly the same position, not being willing to meet the eyes of his fellow-pa.s.sengers, for he must have observed their disapprobation of his ill-manners; and before the cars were entirely within the depot, he went out upon the platform to escape from observation.

I hope the boy will never be rude in this way again, for he evidently was made unhappy by it. There is only one reason why I fear he will not profit by the well-merited rebuke he received, and that is, because I saw one of his cheeks puffed out with a quid of tobacco! I confess I do not expect so much improvement from a boy who indulges in such a filthy habit, as from one who does not.

A gentlemanly boy must always be happier than one who is rough and selfish. The boy in the car did not enjoy his ride, although, as he said, he liked his seat very well. His impoliteness made it unpleasant and the remembrance of it will never afford him gratification. I hope none of you, who read about him, will be guilty of a similar error.

Always try to be accommodating to those about you. If you are asked to do a favour, do it as if it gave you pleasure. You will never have occasion to regret it. Be civil to those in your father's employment.

Their love and respect is of value to you. There are very few sunk so low as not to appreciate true politeness. Above all others, be polite to your parents, and your brothers and sisters. Do not indulge in harsh words.