Chapter XXXV: What Constitutes Good Citizenship? (6)

The truest test of civilization is not the census, nor the size of
cities, nor the crops; but the kind of men the country turns
out.--Emerson

Faithfulness is just as possible to boys and girls as to men and women. To be faithful is to be true to our own convictions,--never acting without or against them,--and true to our professions,--never breaking promises, or swerving from engagements.

Exactly what we mean will readily be seen in the following incident: When Blucher was hastening over bad roads to help Wellington at Waterloo, his troops faltered. "It can't be done," said they. "It _must_ be done," was his reply. "I have promised to be there--_promised_, do you hear? You wouldn't have me break my word!" It was done, as we all know; and the result of his faithfulness was a great victory for Wellington, and the complete overthrow of Napoleon.

Faithfulness in the daily routine of school work has laid the foundation of many a noble character. There is no one thing which will sooner wreck a young man, and utterly ruin his future prospects, than the reputation of being lazy and shiftless.

Mr. Ruskin, speaking of the importance of faithfulness among the young people of England, said, "Could I give the youth of this country but one word of advice it would be this: _Let no moment pass until you have extracted from it every possibility. Watch every grain in the hourglass._"

Sir Walter Scott, writing to his son at school, says: "I cannot too much impress upon your mind that faithfulness is a condition imposed on us in every station of life; there is nothing worth having that can be had without it. As for knowledge, it can no more be planted in the human mind without labor than a field of wheat can be produced without the previous use of the plow. If we neglect our spring, our summer will be useless and contemptible, our harvest will be chaff, and the winter of our old age unrespected and desolate."

It will be seen, therefore, that all young persons should endeavor to make each day stand for something. Neither heaven nor earth has any place for the drone; he is a libel on his species. No glamour of wealth or social prestige can hide his essential ugliness. It is better to carry a hod, or wield a shovel, in an honest endeavor to be of some use to humanity, than to be nursed in luxury and be a parasite.

The emptiness and misery sometimes found in idle high life is illustrated by the following letter, written by a French countess to the absent count:

"DEAR HUSBAND:--Not knowing what else to do I will write to you. Not knowing what to say, I will now close. Wearily yours, COUNTESS DE R."

Of course we must admit that there is variety in the distribution of human talents; and yet no one of us is incompletely furnished. Each one has to be faithful only according to the measure of his trust, and is not expected to make disproportionate gains. Some men are especially fortunate both in opportunities and in resources, while to others, chances of advancement come but seldom; but the man of few opportunities may be just as faithful as the man who has many.

If you would be accounted faithful, you must do little things as if they were great, and great things as if they were little and easy. That is the true road to success; and your place or station in life has very little to do with it.

Calais is a pleasant seaport town of France, situated on the Straits of Dover. Large numbers of travelers from England to France, and from France to England, pass through this beautiful town. Near the center of it is a lighthouse, one hundred and eighteen feet high, on which is placed a revolving light that can be seen by vessels twenty miles out at sea.

At one time some gentlemen were visiting the tower upon which the light is placed, when the watchman who has charge of the burners commenced praising their brilliancy. One of the gentlemen then said to him, "What if one of the lights should chance to go out?" "Impossible!" replied the watchman, with amazement at the bare thought of such neglect of duty. "Sir," said he, pointing to the ocean, "yonder, where nothing can be seen, there are ships going to every part of the world. If to-night one of my burners were out, within six months would come a letter--from India, perhaps from the islands of the Pacific Ocean, perhaps from some place I never heard of--saying that on such a night, at such an hour, the light of Calais burned dim; the watchman neglected his post, and vessels were in danger. Ah, sir, sometimes on dark nights, in the stormy weather, I look out at sea, and I feel as if the eyes of the whole world were looking at my light! My light go out! Calais's burners grow dim! No, never!"

Exactly the opposite of this is seen in the incident which follows:

A few years ago, the keeper of a life-saving station on the Atlantic coast found that his supply of powder had given out. The nearest village was two or three miles distant, and the weather was inclement. He concluded that it "was not worth while to go so far for such a trifle." That night a vessel was wrecked within sight of the station. A line could have been given to the crew if he had been able to use the mortar; but he had no powder. He saw the drowning men perish one by one, knowing that he alone was to blame. A few days afterward he was justly dismissed from the service.

Faithfulness must especially take into account the feelings and expectations we have raised in other minds. In this matter we cannot be too careful. It is said of Lord Chatham that he once promised his son that he should be present at the pulling down of a garden wall. The wall was, however, taken down during his absence, through forgetfulness; but, feeling the importance of his word being held sacred, Lord Chatham ordered the workman to rebuild it, that his son might witness its destruction according to his father's promise.

Loyalty is also a form of faithfulness. It is patriotism in practice. Only the patriotic citizen is loyal to his country. The absence of this sentiment, in times of national peril, exposes one to indecision and cowardice, if not to treason. Hence its great value and beauty. It is indispensable to good citizenship; indeed there is no true manhood and womanhood without it. It is involved in the American idea of republican institutions. It is loyalty alone which makes it possible for our country to continue on its course from year to year.

This form of faithfulness is just now commanding attention throughout our land. The national flag is flung to the breeze over our schoolhouses, that American youth may not forget their allegiance to the government it represents. The stars and stripes floating over the temples of knowledge, wherein our youth are being trained for usefulness and honor, is worth far more to us than we realize; and we should always be ready to hail it with joyous songs and cheers.

CYRUS W. FIELD.

One of the greatest enterprises of modern times, was the laying of the first Atlantic cable. Cyrus W. Field became impressed with the feasibility of this project. He induced capitalists to put their money into it; and then plunged into the work with all the force of his being. The faithfulness with which he performed his task gained for him the united praise of two continents.

By hard work he secured aid for his company from the British government; but in Congress he encountered such bitter opposition from a powerful lobby that his measure had a majority of only one in the senate.

The cable was loaded upon the Agamemnon, the flagship of the British fleet at Sebastopol, and upon the Niagara, a magnificent new frigate of the United States navy; but, when five miles of cable had been paid out, it caught in the machinery and parted. On the second trial, when two hundred miles at sea, the electric current was suddenly lost, and men paced the decks nervously and sadly, as if in the presence of death. Just as Mr. Field was about to give the order to cut the cable, the current returned as quickly and mysteriously as it had disappeared. The following night, when the ship was moving but four miles an hour and the cable running out at the rate of six miles, the brakes were applied too suddenly just as the steamer gave a heavy lurch, and the cable broke and sank to the bottom of the sea.

Directors were disheartened, the public skeptical, capitalists were shy, and, but for the faith of Mr. Field, who worked day and night, almost without food or sleep, the whole project would have been abandoned.

A third attempt also resulted in failure, but not discouraged by all these difficulties, Mr. Field went to work with a will, organized a new company, and made a new cable far superior to anything before used; and, on July 13, 1866, was begun the trial which ended with the following message sent to New York:

"HEART'S CONTENT, July 27.

"We arrived here at nine o'clock this morning. All well. Thank God! the cable is laid and is in perfect working order. CYRUS W. FIELD."

Such, in brief, is the story of the faithful performance of a seemingly impossible task. It was a long, hard struggle, covering nearly thirteen years of anxious watching and ceaseless toil. But the name and fame of Cyrus W. Field will long be cherished and remembered by a grateful people.

[Footnote: See Appleton's "Cyclopedia of American Biography," Vol. II., pp. 448, 449, and Johnson's "Universal Cyclopedia," Vol. III., p. 351.]

XXVI.

THE SECOND TEANSITION PERIOD.

MEMORY GEMS.

It is the pushing fellows who get well to the front.--William Black

The tricky, underhanded individual pays higher for all he gets.
--W. M. Thackeray

A man ought to be something more than the son of his father.
--J. Staples White

Honor and shame from no condition rise;
Act well your part, there all the honor lies.--Pope

The darkest hour in the life of any young man is when he sits down to
study how to get money without honestly earning it.--Horace Greeley

If we have seen that the first transition period in life is that which marks the passing of the child into the youth, then we may safely speak of the second transition period as that which marks the passing of the youth into the man.

Usually there is involved in this change the leaving of the parental home; the selecting of a business or profession; and, sometimes, the establishment of a new home, and the assuming of the cares of family life. It is, therefore, of importance that we should guard all the several interests of this period with more than ordinary care, and especially that we should acquaint ourselves with those facts and principles which have successfully guided others through a similar experience.

First of all we must make a careful study of our possibilities. Young men are constantly worrying lest they be failures and nonentities. Every man will count for all he is worth. There is as steady and constant a ratio between what a man is, and what he can accomplish, as there is between what a ton of dynamite is, and what it can accomplish. There is as much a science of success as there is a science of mathematics. A great deal depends on the matter of laying in supplies, accumulating primary stuff. A man is never too young to have that fact put before him, and never too old to have it rehearsed. He will understand and appreciate the truth of it before he gets through life; and it is a great pity for him not to have, at least, a little appreciation of it near the beginning, so as to frame his initial years in accordance with it.

Let, therefore, nothing escape your observation--deem nothing below your notice. Dive into all depths, and explore all hidden recesses that will render you a master of every department of any business or profession you may engage in. The man who can render himself generally useful has always a better chance of getting on in the world. Whatever you thoroughly acquire will be a source of satisfaction and profit to you throughout your future life. It will save you many an anxious hour by day, and many a restless one by night. Remember that the whole is made up of parts, and that the parts must be well understood before you can master the whole. You will never be able to manage your business successfully without a thorough knowledge of it in all its details. Resolve, therefore, at the very commencement of your career, to acquire such knowledge.

Young people sometimes say, "I shall never get an opportunity of showing what is in me, for every business is now so crowded." Shakespeare has answered this when he said, "There is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune." As a matter of fact opportunities come to all, but all are not ready for them when they come. Successful men are those who prepare themselves for all emergencies, and take advantage of the occasion when the favorable time comes.

A good many young men excuse themselves from ever becoming anything, or doing anything, by the fact that they always live where it is low tide. Perhaps that is because it is always low tide where they live. At any rate, the more we learn of the history of the men who have succeeded, the more apparent it becomes that if they were born in low water, they patched up their tattered circumstances, and beat out to sea on a tide of their own making.

If you would be a success in the business world, then you must master everything that you lay your hands upon. Bear in mind that this is your own interest, as well as your duty toward your employer. Think nothing below your attention; do not be afraid of drudgery. Investigate all, comprehend all, grasp all, and master all. Business, like an ingenious piece of machinery, is made up of many complicated parts. Analyze it, therefore, thoroughly search all its parts, and know for yourself how they are put together.

You may cherish the hope that you will one day be an employer yourself. It would be very desirable if we could repose unlimited confidence in the words and acts of our fellow-men; but, unfortunately, the condition of the world is not as yet sufficiently advanced to enable us to do so. Where you will find one that you can trust, you will find many that need watching. If you should be unacquainted with some of your business details, you must trust to others, and may in consequence be deceived. A few months of careful attention to it at the commencement of your career will secure you against deception throughout the whole of your life as an employer.

Then you must also be careful to remember that dividends in life are not paid until the investment of personal effort has been made. Sowing still antedates reaping; and the amount sowed determines pretty closely the size of the harvest. Whether it be young men or wheat fields the interest can be depended upon to keep up with the capital, and empty barns in October are the logical consequence of empty furrows in spring. The young man may as well understand that there are no gratuities in this life, and that success is never reached "across lots."

Success means, all the way through to the finish, a victory over difficulties; and if the young aspirant lacks the grit to face and down the difficulty that happens to confront him at the start, there is little reason to expect that his valor will show to any better advantage in his encounter with enemies that get in his way later.

Young men are apt to imitate each other. Let your conduct be such as to bear imitation; otherwise you will lead those who are younger than you to form injurious habits, and be the means of leading them away from the path of duty. It is an obligation you owe your seniors. In the discharge of their duties they will have to depend upon you to a certain extent; and if your part is not properly performed, the whole system must unavoidably suffer derangement.

If the mind is temperate in feeling, deliberate in choosing, and robust in its willing, character becomes set and enduring. If, on the contrary, feeling is volatile, choice fickle, and the will flabby, one quality after another awakens momentary admiration and impulse; ideals succeed each other as the vanishing visions of a dream; life is passed in a state of perpetual inward contradiction; and failure, both for yourselves and for your imitators, is almost sure to follow.

No young man can remain long in this unsettled or transition state; but he must become _something_. You will therefore do well to be careful how you tread this probationary ground; for it is really the one great opportunity of your lives so far as concerns the formation of your general characters. Use it thoughtfully and well, and your manhood will be stronger, richer, and more helpful, all through your later years.

XXVII.

ORDER.

MEMORY GEMS.

Accuracy is the twin brother of honesty.--C. Simmons

Without method, little can be done to any good purpose.--Macaulay

A place for everything, and everything in its place.--Old Proverb

Order is the law of all intelligible existence.--Blackie

Order is the sanity of the mind, the health of the body, the peace of
the city, and the security of the state.--Southey

The two words "order" and "method" are so closely akin to each other that it is quite difficult to separate them, even in the mind. "Order is heaven's first law," it is said; also, "Method consists in the right choice of means to an end." Here a distinction is made; but the two words taken together, cover the line of thought we now wish to follow.

Children nowadays do not learn to read as they once did. They go to kindergartens; but order is the rule even in such play-schools, and it is the one great reason why they succeed. All schools and colleges depend upon order for successful work.

"He who every morning plans the transactions of the day," says Victor Hugo, "and follows out that plan, carries a thread that will guide him through the labyrinth of the most busy life. The orderly arrangement of his time is like a ray of light which darts itself through all his occupations. But where no plan is laid, where the disposal of time is surrendered merely to the chance of incidents, all things lie huddled together in one chaos, which admits of neither distribution nor review."

There is no talent like method; and no accomplishment that man can possess, like perseverance. These two powers will usually overcome every obstacle; and there is no position which a young man may not hope to secure, when, guided by these principles, he sets out upon the great highway of life. In after years, the manners and habits of the man are not so readily adapted to any prescribed course to which they have been unaccustomed. But in youth habits of system, method, and industry, are as easily formed as others; and the benefits and enjoyments which result from them, are more than the wealth and honors which they always secure.

"Never study on speculation," says Waters; "all such study is vain. Form a plan, have an object; then work for it, learn all you can about it, and you will be sure to succeed. What I mean by studying on speculation, is that aimless learning of things because they may be useful at some time; which is like the conduct of the woman who bought at auction a brass door-plate with the name Thompson on it, thinking it might some day be of service."

Orderly boys and girls are fair scholars, firm friends, and good planners; they make few mistakes, and succeed pretty well in all they do. Order does not make a genius; but a genius without order is exasperating when he is a man, and is only pardoned for his want of order when he is a boy because he is expected to do better each day. Begin with orderly _habits_; next day try order in _thought_; and then will follow naturally order in _principles_.

"You would be the greatest man of your age, Grattan," said Curran, "if you would buy a few yards of red tape and tie up your bills and papers." Curran realized that methodical people are accurate as a rule, and successful.

The celebrated Nathaniel Emmons, whose learning made him famous through all New England, claimed that he could not work at all, unless order reigned about him. For more than fifty years the same chairs stood in the same places in his study; his hat hung on the same hook; the shovel stood on the north side of the open fireplace, and the tongs on the south side; and all his books and papers were so arranged that he claimed to be able to find any information he needed in three or four minutes.

The demand for perfection in the make-up of Wendell Phillips was wonderful. Every word must express the exact shade of his thought; every phrase must be of due length and cadence; every sentence must be perfectly balanced before it left his lips. Exact precision characterized his style. He was easily the first legal orator America has produced. The rhythmical fullness and poise of his periods are remarkable.

A. T. Stewart was extremely systematic and precise in all his transactions. Method ruled in every department of his store, and for every delinquency a penalty was rigidly enforced. His eye was upon his business in all its various branches; he mastered every detail and worked hard.

It has also been repeatedly asserted that Noah Webster never could have prepared his dictionary in thirty-six years, unless the most exacting method had come to the rescue. He himself claimed that his orderly methods saved him ten or twenty years, and a vast amount of anxiety and trouble.

Good habits are the first steps in order for children,--punctuality, neatness, a place for everything. Yet, do not let habits master you, so that you never can do anything except in a fixed manner at a fixed time, and cannot give up your way of doing for the sake of something greater.

It is true, however, that there is a wonderful force in mere regularity. A writer by the name of Bergh tells of a man beginning business, who opened and shut his store at the same hour every day for weeks, without selling two cents' worth of goods, yet whose application attracted attention and paved the way to fortune.

Sir Walter Scott has also said that "When a regiment is under march, the rear is often thrown into confusion because the front does not move steadily and without interruption. It is the same thing with business. If that which is first in hand be not instantly, steadily, and regularly dispatched, other things accumulate behind, till affairs begin to press all at once, and no human brain can stand the confusion."

The great enemy of order is laziness. It is too much trouble to do a thing when it ought to be done, instead of doing it when you want to do it. Young people should learn to think, talk, read in an orderly manner.

The country, the state, the town, the home, depend upon order. Supposing each person did what he wished, without regard to the welfare of others,--that meals, parties, lessons, came at any time; that caucuses and elections happened when any one desired them; that prisons and hospitals took people or not, just as superintendents felt; that everybody was a self-constituted policeman, yet no one wanted to be looked after himself;--what a hard time all people would have!

A very important point still remains to be noticed. It is this: Our principles ought to be strong enough to govern our habits. Habits may make us disagreeable and fussy; principles make us broad, far-seeing, sympathetic, and independent. Success in life depends upon having the _principle_ of order. Always do the _important_ thing _first_; for that is what order means. Some boys and girls are orderly about their rooms, but disorderly in their ways of doing things,--always in a hurry, and always puzzled what to do next. Orderly people make plans, allow a margin of time for carrying them out, so that they shall not overlap one duty with another; and then, if there is any time left, they fill it with some extra employment or enjoyment, which they have kept in the background all ready for use.

JOHN WESLEY.

If John Wesley had not been such an orderly boy, he never could have been the founder of Methodism. He was born at Epworth, England, in 1703, and had nineteen brothers and sisters, though only ten of them lived long enough to be educated.

His brother Charles was his intimate companion. When students at Oxford, they and two other friends formed a small society, which was called the "Holy Club" by those who laughed at it. They had sets of questions, labeled in order for their examination. From the exact regularity of their lives and their methods of study, they came to be called Methodists, in allusion to some ancient physicians who were so termed. The name was so quaint that it became immediately popular. They visited the poor and sick, and had regular lists of inquiries and rules for general use.

All the orderly habits of his youth guided him even when he became a man; and the amount of work he accomplished is almost beyond belief. In the last three years of his life, although sick nearly all the time, he preached as many times as ever until a week before his death, in 1791. Always anxious never to lose a moment, and to be methodical in all his habits, he read as he traveled on horseback for forty years. He delivered forty thousand sermons, and wrote many books and essays, and gave away in charity one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, which was a great sum in those days.

The secret of John Wesley's success began in his love of order, and culminated in the wonderful, orderly discipline of the immense Methodist denomination. At his death there were nearly eighty thousand members, whose leaders, great and little, had definite duties to perform. Yet, in his love for order, he never lost sight of individual poor and sick people, but remembered to serve each one.

[Footnote: See "Lives of Wesley," by Tyerman (1876); Riss (1875); Isaac Taylor's "Wesley and Methodism" (1868); and "Wesley's Journals," in seven volumes.]

XXVIII.

REVERENCE.

MEMORY GEMS.

Reverence is the crown of moral manhood.--C. Kingsley

No man of sound nature ever makes a mock of reverence.--T. T. Munger

True reverence is homage tempered by love.--W. B. Pope

In the full glow of the light of our times, only the pure are really
revered.--Wilberforce

Reverence is alike indispensable to the happiness of individuals, of
families, and of nations.--Smiles

Reverence is a word by itself. It has no synonyms, nor does any other word in the language exactly fill its place. It is not respect; it is not regard; it is not fear; it is not honor. Perhaps awe comes nearest to it; and yet reverence is more than awe. It is awe softened and refined by gentleness and love.

Reverence is a condition of thought and feeling which does not paralyze action, but kindles it; does not deaden sensibility, but quickens it. Even when used in a religious sense, reverence does not stand for religion itself, but as a means or aid to religious thought and life.

The presence or absence of a reverent spirit is of real importance; for it adds to, or takes away from, our enjoyment of the world in which we live. One person finds happiness everywhere and in every occasion; carrying his own holiday with him. Another always appears to be returning from a funeral. One sees beauty and harmony wherever he looks, while another is blind to beauty; the lenses of his eyes seem to be made of smoked glass, draping the whole world in mourning. While one man sees only gravel, fodder, and firewood, as he looks into a richly-wooded park; another is ravished with its beauty. One sees in a matchless rose nothing but an ordinary flower; another penetrates its purpose, and reads in the beauty of its blended colors and its wonderful fragrance the very thoughts of God.

Only the truly reverent soul can catch the higher music of sentient being, with its joys and hopes; its wealth of earnest, aspiring, struggling souls; tolerant, serious, yet sunny; and read those larger possibilities which lie hidden in the great deeps of the most ordinary human life.

While it is true that only the reverent can fully appreciate nature; it is even more true in regard to human nature. To the reverent mind an old man or woman is an object of tender regard; while by the irreverent, the aged are frequently treated with ingratitude, and sometimes even with contempt.

One of the lessons most frequently and most strongly impressed upon the Lacedaemonian youth, was to entertain great reverence and respect for old men, and to give them proof of it on all occasions, by saluting them; by making way for them, and giving them place in the streets; by rising up to show them honor in all companies and public assemblies; but, above all, by receiving their advice, and even their reproofs, with docility and submission.

On one occasion, when there was a great play at the principal theater in Athens, the seats set apart for strangers were filled with Spartan boys; and other seats, not far distant, were filled with Athenian youth. The theater was crowded, when an old man, infirm, and leaning on a staff, entered. There was no seat for him. The Athenian youth called to the old man to come to them, and with great difficulty he picked his way to their benches; but not a boy rose and offered him a seat. Seeing this, the Spartan boys beckoned to the old man to come to them, and, as he approached their benches, every Spartan boy rose, and, with uncovered head, stood until the old man was seated, and then all quietly resumed their seats. Seeing this, the Athenians broke out in loud applause. The old man rose, and, in a voice that filled the theater, said, "The Athenians know what is right: the Spartans do it."

The great German thinker, Goethe, claimed that three kinds of reverence should be taught to youth,--for superiors, for equals, and forinferiors. This was an advance over the old ideas; but, in a republic like ours, reverence is not up and down; it is not measured by class distinctions,--it is a spirit, to be related in sympathetic ways with all human beings as such; and especially with all whose lives are such as to command our respect and esteem.

Reverence can be cultivated, and needs to be cultivated in our times. There is too much mere "smartness" abroad. In society and in the world we find a flippant, cynical tone; no doubt much of this is reaction from old-time gloom and severity. But without a reasonable reverence we cannot have good manners, or loyal citizens, or possessors of really beautiful characters.

Reverence is developed by looking for the good in others; by avoiding fault-finding; by associating with high-minded acquaintances; by reading worthy literature; by using language unstained by vulgarity; by striving to enter more and more into the spirit of the noblest lives that come under our notice.

Reverence, then, is not fear; but wonder, solemnity, and veneration. "It is to cherish a habit of looking upward, and seeing what is noble and good in all things." Its blessings are many. By it we can win a masterly judgment to determine the fitness of behavior and habits; it will keep us from thoughtless words and deeds; it will make us respectful to old age and appreciative of the past; and, in many other ways, it will prove itself of real value to all who cultivate and cherish it.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

We select, as our special example, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, the best known of our American poets. The great poet, whoever he may be, is always reverential. His stanzas are crowned with a sacred seriousness. He gives to life a "grand, true, harmonic interpretation." Longfellow was born on the 27th of February, 1807, at Portland, Maine. In his earlier years he displayed the same gentle, amiable spirit which filled his after-life with sunshine and goodness.

He proved himself to be possessed of a very bright mind even as a boy, and entered Bowdoin College when only fourteen years of age. He afterwards served this same institution as professor of modern languages, and in 1835 was called to fill a similar position in Harvard University.

He visited Europe, twice at least, for purposes of study; and, on his return from his second trip, began that illustrious career of instruction and authorship which has been the source of so much honorable pride on the part of his countrymen. Longfellow selected a historic home in Cambridge; it was the house occupied by Washington when he took command of the United States Army in 1776,--a spacious structure, full of welcoming windows, and situated in the midst of old elms. Here he lived till his death; and now the stretch of land, from the estate to the river Charles, has been bought and adorned as a memorial.

The writings of Longfellow are household possessions, fully as much in England as in America, and we need not enumerate them. They are famous not so much for originality, as for their calm, spiritual, purifying messages. They are full of good-will, aspiration, trust, and real loftiness of tone. Indeed, Longfellow "loved to make clear his discipleship to him whose ministry was love, whose flock was all humanity, whose kingdom was peace and righteousness."

So deep was the impression made by Mr. Longfellow's beauty of character, that it equaled his literary fame. He always responded to callers, and they came by hundreds; he never refused his autograph; children loved him; his charities were manifold; young authors received his encouragement. Modest as to his own writings, he strove to praise the good in others. Every one who met him perceived the source of all this rare grace and fascinating nobility of soul to be a sense of the glory and divineness of all life. His soul stood in a reverential attitude toward existence, and a marvelous light shone through him and his poetry as the result.

Down to the last his pen was active. He died on the 24th of March, 1882. Degrees and honors had been freely bestowed on him; but the highest tributes came from his admirers on both sides of the Atlantic; and his reverential spirit still lives in hundreds of those who read his beautiful verses.

[Footnote: See "Life of Longfellow," and "Final Memorials" both by his brother; Samuel Longfellow, and articles in all the best magazines.]

XXIX.

SENTIMENT.

MEMORY GEMS.

Sentiment is nothing but thought blended with feeling.--J. F. Clarke

Sentiment takes part in the shaping of all destinies.--R. Southey

A little child is the sweetest and purest thing in the world.
--J. S. White

Sentiment is the life and soul of poetry and art.--J. Flaxman

Sentiment is emotion precipitated in pretty crystals by the fancy.
--J. R. Lowell

It is quite difficult to define sentiment. This has been done, however, by the use of the following figures. "We may think of it as color, without which nothing in nature or art is complete. A colorless character is as unsatisfactory as a colorless landscape. We may also think of it as cement; for it serves to bind together the ordinary facts and incidents of life. Just as the bricks and stones of a building are useless until held in the places designed for them under some governing plan, so we may say that a selfish and gross character is not bound together by noble sentiments. Or we may say, again, that sentiment is the wing-power of man, whereby he has ability to fly away from the commonplace and unworthy. By it the ordinary citizen becomes a glowing patriot; the drudging youth turns into the devoted statesman; and life is made better in a thousand ways."

In one of our memory gems we find it asserted that "sentiment is the life and soul of poetry and art." Perhaps this statement may help us here. Pure poetry is the perfection of prose, or prose idealized. "It is a dream drawn from the infinite, and portrayed to mortal sense." It takes a great mind, a great genius to weave into a gossamer web, complete and perfect in every part, a story, a tale, an idea, which alike charms the mind, enthralls the sense, and enchains the spirit. Poetry is the perfection of language. It is not a mere mechanical contrivance of words, but a glorious picture in which the outward execution is lost in a glory of expression.

The poet Holmes was brimful of sentiment. Listen to him as he talks about the flowers.

"Do you ever wonder why poets talk so much about flowers? Did you ever hear of a poet who did not talk about them? Don't you think a poem, which, for the sake of being original, should leave them out, would be like those verses where the letter 'a' or 'e' or some other is omitted? No,--they will bloom over and over again in poems as in the summer fields, to the end of time, always old and always new.

"Are you tired of my trivial personalities,--those splashes and streaks of sentiment, sometimes perhaps of sentimentality, which you may see when I show you my heart's corolla as if it were a tulip? Pray, do not give yourself the trouble to fancy me an idiot, whose conceit it is to treat himself as an exceptional being. It is because you are just like me that I talk and know that you listen. We are all splashed and streaked with sentiments,--not with precisely the same tints, or in exactly the same patterns, but by the same hand and from the same palette."

To say, as some do, that there is no place for sentiment in life, would be almost equal to saying that life is devoid of joy. But who says there are no joys in life? Take, for example a good pure natural laugh. We hear it bubbling, gushing, pealing out, every now and then, from some glad child of nature; and we say, there _is_ joy in life. The gloom of ages has been lightened with laughter and song.

There is much to awaken deep and real sentiment in us as we gaze on the tree-tops, the mountains and hillsides, the gurgling waters and sweeping billows; on sunlight, shadow, and storm. Behind the forest-leaf we suddenly discover a songster, the gleam of an oriole's breast in a bed of mantling green. Nature always rejoices. She has been singing and laughing all down the ages. She does her part grandly for the happiness of man; and as we come into closer touch with her, sentiment arises as naturally in our hearts, as does the water in her bubbling springs.

We may find a place for sentiment in all life's changeful affairs. Even the stern realities of war do not entirely eradicate from the heart that feeling for suffering humanity, which is the highest expression of sentiment.

There were but few who were so thoughtless as not to be stirred with the feeling which possessed the heart of Captain Phillips, and the crew of the battleship Texas, when, as they stood on the deck, with uncovered heads and reverent souls, on the afternoon of the engagement before Santiago, the knightly old sailor said: "I want to make public acknowledgment here that I believe in God. I want all you officers and men to lift your hats, and from your hearts offer silent thanks to the Almighty for the victory he has given us." But it was not the mere victory over a foe that caused this general and thoughtful lifting of heart; it was exultation at the triumph of justice and the progress of freedom.

The presence or absence of sentiment in our lives is largely accounted for by the fact that we usually find what we are looking for. The geologist sees design and order in the very stones with which the streets are paved. The botanist reads volumes in the flowers and grasses which most men tread thoughtlessly beneath their feet. The astronomer gazes with rapt soul into the starry heavens, while his fellows seldom glance upward. If we seek for the beautiful and the pure, it will be quickly revealed to us; and the sentiment of loving gratitude will arise within us as the result.

Nature takes on our moods; she laughs with those who laugh, and weeps with those who weep. If we rejoice and are glad, the very birds sing more sweetly; the woods and streams murmur our song. But if we are sad and sorrowful, a sudden gloom falls upon nature's face; the sun shines, but not in our hearts; the birds sing, but not to us. The beauty of nature's music is lost to us, and everything seems dull and gray. The lack of sentiment narrows and belittles us; and, for that reason, we cannot afford to be without it.

We must always strive to keep in mind how important sentiment is to a happy and useful career, whatever position in life we may happen to occupy. Noble sentiments are the richest possession we can have. They cheer us when we are despondent, they sing to us when we are lonesome, and they help to keep us young. They are like brilliant poets and divine musicians; by whom the true, the good, and the beautiful are kept constantly before our minds.

It is this trait of character which has to do greatly with worship, reverence, and aspiration. Morality needs to be touched by sentiment or emotion. Sentiment leads us to love sacred spots, to create commemorative days, and to sing songs of gratitude together. It makes life of far greater worth to us in every way. We must also glance at what is known as public sentiment. Public sentiment is not voluntary or self-creative. It is generally a thing of slow growth, springing from a gradual accumulation and development of evidences, impressions, and circumstances. It is a matter of education, impressed upon the masses by the most intelligent or the most influential forces of a community; and as it is often merely the adoption by the masses of the opinions of a class, clique, or ring, it is as likely to be wrong as right, since it frequently serves to popularize evils, the existence and the continuance of which, minister only to the benefit of a few.

But public sentiment, is after all, quite largely a personal matter. We all help in making it; and we should therefore be exceedingly careful as to the sentiments we personally cherish; for these are a very real part of the sentiments of the community as a whole.

BEETHOVEN.

Perhaps we should be safe in saying that the kingdom of music is especially the realm of sentiment. Music raises us to a loftier plane of thought and feeling. It has been beautifully said that "The composer's world is the world of emotion; full of delicate elations and depressions, which like the hum of minute insects hardly arrest the uncultivated ear."

We select as our special illustration Ludwig van Beethoven, who was born at Bonn, Prussia, in the year 1770. His father was a musician, and suffered from two great foes,--a violent temper, and a habit of drink. The family being poor, young Ludwig was made to submit to a severe training on the violin from the time he was four years old, in order to obtain money. By the time he reached the age of nine, he had advanced so far in music that his father could not teach him anything more, and he was passed over to others for further education. When he was fifteen years old he was appointed assistant to the court organist; and, in a description of the various musicians attached to the court, he is described as "of good capacity, young, of good, quiet behavior, and poor."

At the court he was an object of admiration, and his popularity was constantly on the increase. Absorbed in meditation, he forgot ordinary affairs. One illustration is as good as a dozen. He loved the sound of flowing water, and frequently would let it run over his hands until, lost in some musical suggestion from the murmur, he would allow the water to pour over the floor of his apartment until it soaked down and astonished the dwellers below.

He was very democratic, and desired that all men should enjoy freedom and equal rights before the law. When asked once, in court, to produce the proof of his nobility, he pointed to his head and heart, saying, "My nobility is here, and here." His high-strung nervous system would account for many of his peculiarities. By those who did not understand him he was called "a growling old bear." On the other hand, those who appreciated his genius called him "a cloud-compeller of the world of music." He is in music what Milton is in poetry,--lofty, majestic, stately.

Beethoven died on March 26, 1827, during a terrible thunderstorm. His funeral was attended by all the musicians of Vienna. The crowd of people was so enormous that soldiers had to be called in to make a way for the procession; and it took an hour and a half to pass the little distance from the house to the church.

Sentiment in music leaves one in an uplifted and wholesome state of mind. Sentimentality in music may give a momentary pleasure, but it is really hostile to strength of character; and this truth applies, with equal force, to every other feature of our lives.

[Footnote: See Thayer's "Biography of Beethoven" (1879); Schindler's "Beethoven;" and Grove's "Dictionary of Music and Musicians." Magazine articles on Beethoven are also numerous.]

XXX.

DUTY.

MEMORY GEMS.

The path of duty is the way to glory.--Tennyson

A sense of duty pursues us ever and everywhere.--Webster

The consciousness of duty performed "gives us music at midnight."
--George Herbert

I slept and dreamed that life was Beauty.
I woke and found that life was Duty.--E. S. Hooper

Let us have faith that right makes might; and in that faith let us dare
to do our duty as we understand it.--A. Lincoln

Samuel Smiles, who has written a most excellent book upon this subject, says, "Duty is the end and aim of the highest life; and it alone is true." It is certain that of all the watchwords of life, duty is the highest and best. He who sincerely adopts it lives a true life; he is really the successful man. It pertains to all parts and relations of life. There is no moment, place, or condition where its claims are not imperative.

Obedience to the commands of duty, and the ruling desire to be useful, are cardinal elements of success. It is at the trumpet call which duty sounds, that all the nobler attributes of manhood spring into life; and duty is something that must be done without regard to discomfort, sacrifice, or death. It must be done in secret, as well as in public; and according to the measure of our faithfulness in this respect, will be the real measure of our manhood.

History and biography are fairly crowded with examples of the faithful performance of duty, and the glorious results which have followed; such as Nelson at Trafalgar, Luther at the Diet of Worms, General Grant in the Civil War; and scores of other instances of note. But equally valuable are the cases of ordinary life. The engineer on the locomotive; the pilot at the helm of the storm-tossed vessel; the mother in her daily routine of work; the merchant upholding laws of trade in honor; the schoolboy plodding through studies in a manly thoroughness; the reformer of slums letting her little candle of service shine in the dark;--all these and similar instances are full of guidance and inspiration.

There are two aspects of duty; namely, cheerful duty and drudging duty. One says, "I want to do something;" the other says, "I must." Our New England forefathers were followers of duty, but they found very little joy in it, as we understand that word. We should endeavor to improve upon their methods, but we shall find it difficult to improve upon their faithfulness.

The life of Sir Walter Scott affords an interesting illustration of strict obedience to the line of duty. His whole life seems to have been governed by that sense of obligation which caused him, when a young man, to enter a profession which he heartily disliked, out of affection for his father; and, later in life, to set himself to paying off the debt incurred by the publishing house of which he was a silent partner. His sense of duty was expressed in his declaration that, "If he lived and retained his health, no man should lose a penny by him."

Just what is meant by faithfulness to duty may be clearly seen in the following incident. During the famous _dark day_ of 1780, in Connecticut, candles were lighted in many houses, and domestic fowls went to their roosts. The people thought the day of judgment had come. The legislature was then in session in Hartford. The house of representatives adjourned. In the council, which corresponds to the modern senate, an adjournment was also proposed. Colonel Davenport objected, saying, "The day of judgment is either approaching, or it is not. If it is not, there is no cause for adjourning; if it is, I choose to be found doing my duty. I wish, therefore, that candles may be brought."

Upon the world's great battlefields, this matter of faithfulness to duty has always been deemed of the first importance. Previous to the battle of Lutzen, in which eighty thousand Austrians were defeated by an army of thirty-six thousand Prussians, commanded by Frederick the Great, this monarch ordered all his officers to attend him, and thus addressed them: "To-morrow I intend giving the enemy battle; and, as it will decide who are to be the future masters of Silesia, I expect every one of you, in the strictest manner, to do his duty. If any one of you is a coward, let him step forward before he makes others as cowardly as himself,--let him step forward, I say, and he shall immediately receive his discharge without ceremony or reproach. I see there is none among you who does not possess true heroism, and will not display it in defense of his king, of his country, and of himself. I shall be in the front and in the rear; shall fly from wing to wing; no company will escape my notice; and whoever I then find doing his duty, upon him will I heap honor and favor."

Another great military commander was the Duke of Wellington. He once said to a friend: "There is little or nothing in this life worth living for; but we can all of us go straight forward and do our duty." Whether serving at home in his family, or serving his country on the field, his sense of duty was the one high and noble purpose that inspired him. He did not ask, Will this course win fame? Will this battle add to my earthly glory? But always, What is my duty? He did what duty commanded, and followed where it led. It was his firm adherence to what he thought was right, that brought down upon him the violence of a mob in the streets of London, assaulting his person and attacking his house, even while his wife lay dead therein. But the memory of few men is now more greatly honored; and his example is worthy of careful study and close imitation.

The foregoing facts show, far better than argument, both the nature and place of duty in the work of life. We see it in practical operation, always timely, honorable, and attractive. It cannot be discounted or even smirched. It stands out in bold relief, supported by a clear conscience and strong will. It demands recognition, and it always secures it.