Part 6
Boys and girls, I wonder how many of you have heard of Samuel C. Armstrong—General Armstrong, the founder of Hampton Institute in Virginia? General Armstrong was one of the best men who ever lived, and he was the friend of all mankind. His special services were rendered in behalf of Indians and Negroes—the weaker races. You ought to go to Hampton Institute sometimes and see that place, and go over to the little cemetery in one corner of the grounds and stand uncovered by the side of General Armstrong’s grave. He died in 1892.
You ought to get the story of his life and read it. It will bear to you a thrilling message; for to read that book is to enter the presence of a man of magnificent courage and indomitable faith.
A general at twenty-six, with a brilliant war record behind him, the quality of his courage had been already proved; but the future was to test it far more severely. The responsibility for the experiment at Hampton was a terrible one, presenting problems which no nation had been called upon to solve before. He had to face isolation, ignorance, indifference, misrepresentation. At the best, after he had conquered prejudice and won friends for the work, he had to spend half his time begging for money, for he had to raise by personal efforts from fifty thousand to eighty thousand dollars annually for the current expenses. Yet in all that time and under all his burdens no one ever saw him discouraged. He used to explain his position by a story which he called his “rule of conduct.”
“Once there was an old colored man who could not be dissuaded from working at an empty ’possum hole. ‘Ain’t no ’possum in dat hole? Dey’s jest got to be, ’cause dey’s nuffin’ in de house fer supper’.” Or, as he used to tell his children, “Once there was a woodchuck. Now woodchucks can’t climb trees. Well, this woodchuck was chased by a dog, and came to a tree. He knew that if he could get up this tree the dog could not catch him. Now woodchucks can’t climb trees, but this one had to, so he did.”
He had to, so he did, was the motto of General Armstrong’s life. “Doing what can’t be done is the glory of living,” he once said. “For most people,” said one of General Armstrong’s friends, “an obstacle is something in the way to stop one from going on, but for General Armstrong it merely meant something to climb over; and if he could not climb all the way over, he would get up as high as possible, and then crow!”
When you come to read the story of General Armstrong’s life you will find that there is no finer picture in it than that of an evening when he spoke at a little suburban church far down a side street. It was a bitter winter night, with a driving storm of sleet, and when it was time for the meeting to begin the audience consisted of a score or so of humble people who evidently enough had no means to contribute, and a dozen restless boys kicking their heels in the front pew. Then “in the midst of the bleakness and emptiness rose the worn, gaunt soldier, as bravely and gladly as if a multitude were hanging upon his words. His deep-sunk eyes looked out beyond the bleakness of the scene into the world of his ideals, and the cold little place was aglow with the fire that was in him.”
Dangers, hardships, obstacles—upon these he had tried “his soul’s stuff” all his life, but here was another and a more difficult test. Triumphant in faith and unflinching in duty, he could meet even defeat in the spirit of victory.
XXVII. HOW TO BE HANDSOME.
Do you want to be handsome? I’ll tell you how.
First, look well to your health. Eat regularly and simply, and take proper rest, in order to be healthy. Do not crowd the stomach. The stomach can no more work all the time, night and day, than a horse; it must have regular rest. The body must have proper rest also. Do not keep late hours. Go to bed early. If you have work which must be done, it is a good deal better to rise early in the morning and do it than it is to sit up late at night and work.
Secondly, good teeth are essential to good looks. Brush the teeth regularly with a soft brush morning and night, especially at night. Be sure to go to bed at night with clean teeth.
Thirdly, look well to the ventilation of your bed-rooms. No one can have a clear skin who breathes bad air. Fresh air is a preventive of a multitude of diseases. Bad air is the cause of a great many premature deaths.
Fourthly, cleanliness of the entire body is of vast importance. Some one has said that “Cleanliness is next to godliness,” and some one else has added, “And soap is a means of grace.” Handsome people not only eat regularly and simply; they not only sleep regularly and look well to proper ventilation; but handsome people will take regular baths.
Fifthly, more than all else, in order to look well you must wake up the mind and soul. When the mind is awake, the dull, sleepy look passes away from the eyes. Keep thinking pleasant and noble thoughts; do not read trashy novels or books; read books which have something good in them. Talk with people who know something. Be often in the company of those who know more than you do. Hear lectures and sermons and profit by them. If we listen and understand and heed, the mind and soul are awakened. So much the better if the spiritual nature is aroused. Sometimes a plain face is really glorified with the love of God and of man which shines through it.
Lastly, keep a strong and vigorous body by taking plenty of wholesome outdoor exercise, and do all the good you can.
Why not begin to grow handsome to-day?
XXVIII. PATIENCE.
Patience is one of the marks of a high character. It might well be called the habit of closing the mind against disagreeable and annoying conditions. To acquire this habit so effectually as to hide even from one’s self any sense of suffering or offense from contact with such conditions is what the truly cultivated aim at. Life, it is true, is full of trying things, but to let the mind dwell upon them only serves to increase their offense to the feelings or the senses.
There are people, of course, who are incapable of self-concentration, and whose imagination, if left free to gad about, seems always to fix upon and exaggerate every element of disturbance. They live in what is called an elementary stage of moral discipline, and are perpetually fretting about things they cannot help. They are never able to shut down the will against any unpleasantness. They permit merely accidental conditions to exercise a kind of tyrannical sway over them, which, if their minds were once bent to the practice of putting up with things, would cease to present any annoyance whatever.
It is difficult, no doubt, to acquire this habit, but this is what patience means in its highest sense. It is spiritual endurance, and its chief power consists not so much in adding to the number of our joys as in lessening the number of our sufferings. It is, therefore, a mark of power over one’s self and a means of power over others. With patience the outward success or failure of a man is a small thing compared with that success which he has achieved within himself. And that kind of success—the success which enables a man to laugh at failure and rise superior to discouragements and difficulties—that kind of success is a means of help and inspiration to all those about him.
If we consider the works of nature we shall see that nature’s most beneficent operations are the results of patience. Anything which grows must have time, and the best things in the world are generally those things which demand the longest time for their growth and development. The rank and short-lived weed reaches its full development in the shortest possible time, but the oak, which is to stand for centuries, demands the sunshine and the storm of years before its strength is fully developed.
Now, boys and girls, one of the hardest demands which nature makes upon people (especially upon young people, full of strength and energy and ambition) is to wait for the results of growth. No man becomes instantly strong morally; he must grow into strength. However great his ambition and his zeal may be, no man becomes a scholar in a year. It takes time, and lots of it. No man reaches at a single bound the full development of his whole nature. He grows into strength. A good soldier cannot be made without war, nor can a skillful seaman be made on land.
So in the race of life we must fight hard for all we get and be patient. Whatever else may be true, or may not be true, only patient and continued efforts—not hasty efforts—lead to success.
Before me lies a block of wood. It is full of knots. It seems to me I can never split it. But I bravely make the attempt. The first blow makes little impression. The axe springs back with a bound. Again and again I strike. Then a tiny crack appears. A few more licks—and the block yields. I have succeeded. Can you tell me which blow did the work? Was it not the first blow and the last and all between? You have tried something and failed. Try again. If you fail, try once more. And on and on, keep trying until you win the victory.
XXIX. THE BITER BIT.[4]
In the broad light of day a would-be highwayman sprang from the bushes that skirted the “Big Road,” and with a pistol pointed at Eli’s head commanded the wayfarer to hold up his hands. Without hesitation Eli obeyed, grabbing his hat from his head while his hands were making the ascent. Then he stood trembling, as if in great fear, and said:
“Lawdy, Boss, what is dat you got?”
The highwayman replied: “It’s a bulldog.”
“Kin he bark, Boss?” asked poor Eli.
“Certainly,” was the answer.
“Boss, I’ll give you a dollar des to hyeah dat dawg bark wunst,” said humble Eli.
“Bang!” went the gun, and the ball went crashing through the woods. Eli pulled out a silver dollar and handed it over to the would-be robber.
“Do hit ag’in, Boss,” said Eli.
A second, a third, a fourth, a fifth, a sixth time the dog barked, and each time Eli paid a dollar for the fun. When the revolver had been emptied the old negro asked pitifully:
“Boss, can’t he bark no mo’?”
On being assured that the dog could bark no more Eli said:
“Well, Boss, ain’t you got anuddah dawg?”
The robber said he was sorry, but he did not have another. Then Uncle Eli said, as he ran his hand into his hip pocket:
“Boss, I got one uv dem dawgs myse’f, an’ I ’spec’ I’ll let you hyeah mine bark some. Drap yo’ dawg, Boss, an’ drap hit quick,” he commanded as he pointed his gun at the would-be robber’s head. Down went the other man’s gun.
“Now drap dem dollars right ’long side uv dat gun. Be quick,” said Eli. Down went the dollars.
“Now you git, an’ don’t you look back. Step lively, an’ ef you das’ to look back you sho will hyeah sump’n impawtunt!”
XXX. THE ALPHABET OF SUCCESS.
Attend carefully to details. Be prompt in all things. Consider well, then decide positively. Dare to do right, fear to do wrong. Endure trials patiently. Fight life’s battles bravely. Go not into the society of the vicious. Hold integrity sacred. Injure not another’s reputation. Join hands only with the virtuous. Keep your mind free from evil thoughts. Lie not for any consideration. Make few special acquaintances. Never try to appear what you are not. Observe good manners. Pay your debts promptly. Question not the veracity of a friend. Respect the counsel of your parents. Sacrifice money rather than principle. Touch not, taste not, handle not, intoxicating drinks. Use your leisure for improvement. Venture not upon the threshold of wrong. Watch carefully over your passions. X-tend to everyone a kindly greeting. Young people should read “FLOYD’S FLOWERS FOR COLORED CHILDREN.” Zealously labor for the right, and success is certain.
XXXI. EASTER MONDAY IN WASHINGTON.
The approach of Easter arouses delightful expectations in the hearts of the little children in the great city of Washington, the nation’s capital. On Easter Monday there is an event which places the day among the great holidays of the year. The United States government is drawn into the observance of the day because it furnishes the country’s greatest band to play the music and the government pays the bills. The president of the United States, whoever he may happen to be when the day rolls around, wins the gratitude of the children, for he lets them play in his back yard. The president’s back yard is called the White Lot; it covers many acres, and stretches from the back porch of the White House way out to the great white Washington monument, which towers for more than five hundred feet in the air a half mile away. The lawns of the White Lot are always green and inviting, and are covered with the prettiest flowers and trees that you ever saw. The ground is not low and level, except in spots. There are many little hills which serve to make it a beautiful place. Really the president’s back yard is a great big park.
Bright and early Easter Monday morning happy little groups of children may be seen proudly marching toward the White House. Their mothers and nurses or some grown-up sisters are with them. All the trolley cars are filled with them, coming from every section of the city. Their little tongues are very busy chattering about the pleasures that are in store for them. Some, whose memories stretch back over a long, long expanse of time, are relating some glowing incident of the year before, for those who are yet unacquainted with the joys that are to come. The little ones listen with open mouths and wide-open eyes, and hurry along all the faster.
I have been in Washington on two occasions at these great celebrations—once while the sturdy Grover Cleveland was president and once while the great and good William McKinley occupied the White House. In all my experience I have never seen anything that has made me feel prouder of my country than these feast days for the children; for, in the president’s back yard, all the children meet on a common level—children of all races and of all classes. Neither their father’s position nor their mother’s social standing concerns them. Two little strangers will meet and play and romp together as if they had been companions all their days.
All the little children carry with them little baskets and in the baskets are the prettiest Easter eggs that can be made. Some are painted and striped and spotted with bright colors; others are covered with silver and gilt paper. When the merry-makers get to the great big gates, where the policemen always stand, they march right through, because they know the policemen won’t stop them this time. The little fellows hold their heads high and feel very important, and the policemen smile as they pass by. The children keep coming and coming until by-and-by the lot is almost filled, all the way from the White House to the tall white monument, with laughing children—and with eggs! It would seem that there were no children left anywhere in Washington. The children are allowed to run on the grass just as much as they please for this one day.
If you go near one of the little hills or long banks you may hear one small girl say to another, “My egg’ll ’oll furver ’an your egg.” And the other small girl will answer, “No; mine’ll ’oll furvest.” And then they will start their eggs rolling down the hills and go racing after them to see whose egg goes the farthest.
Many of the boys throw their eggs along the ground like ninepin balls, and see whose will go the farthest. When they get tired of this they stand a little distance apart and roll their eggs against each other’s to see whose will break. There is another way that they try to break each other’s eggs. One holds an egg in his hand so that the top is uncovered, and another takes his egg and taps it gently against the first one. He keeps hitting a little harder and harder until one of them breaks, and the one whose egg doesn’t break is the winner.
Most of the eggs are boiled hard first, so that the children are not very sorry, after all, if their eggs do break, because they can eat them. And their mothers or nurses will give them crackers and salt to go with them.
In such a great crowd, where the children are allowed to run where they please, there are sure to be some little ones who will wander away from their guardians. All the little “lost” children, as fast as the officers find them, are taken to a small house in the center of the lot, and the mothers know just where to look for them. Often there are twenty or thirty little tots, all tired out, waiting to be claimed by their guardians.
On the highest mound of all there is a band—the United States Marine Band—and they play some of their nicest music on this day. So when the little ones get weary from running after their eggs they can go and watch the man pound the big bass drum, and listen to the music. Sometimes, while the music is playing, the president will come out on the back porch, high over all, and watch the festivities. A mighty shout, from old and young alike, always greets the appearance of the president. No wonder this is one of the big days for the little folks.
By-and-by all the eggs are broken or eaten, and then it is time for the tired and happy little fairies to go home.
XXXII. KEEPING ONE’S ENGAGEMENTS.
What would happen if everybody should begin to-morrow to keep all his promises and fulfill all his engagements? I think it would make a new world at once. There is great need that the attention of young people should be called to the importance of keeping engagements. Much of the confusion and annoyance and trouble of this world would be done away with if people would learn to keep their promises. The oft-repeated excuse, “I forgot,” is not reasonable. If the memory is in the habit of playing tricks with you, then you ought to make notes of your engagements, write them down in some way, so that you will not forget them. Arnold of Rugby said: “Thoughtlessness is a crime,” and he was right. The great Ruskin has also uttered strong words in condemnation of thoughtlessness in youth. He said: “But what excuse can you find for willfulness of thought at the very time when every crisis of future fortune hangs on your decisions? A youth thoughtless! when the career of all his days depends on the opportunity of a moment. A youth thoughtless! when his every act is a foundation-stone of future conduct, and every imagination a fountain of life or death. Be thoughtless in any after years rather than now, though, indeed, there is only one place where a man may be nobly thoughtless—his deathbed. No thinking should ever be left to be done there.”
And, then, boys and girls should remember that promptness should always accompany the fulfilling of an engagement, otherwise the engagement is not really kept. A person’s time is a valuable possession, which should be respected by all. Who has not been exasperated by some one with apparent indifference keeping (?) an engagement a half or three-quarters of an hour late! And often a whole train of troubles will follow in the wake of tardiness. The punctual boy or girl in this life is the one who advances most rapidly. The punctual boy or girl will make a punctual man or woman. A promise-breaker, or one who is late in keeping his appointments, cannot in the true sense of the term be considered a first-class person.
XXXIII. A MIDNIGHT MISHAP.[5]
Uncle Ned returned from his ’possum hunt about midnight, bringing with him a fine, fat ’possum. He built a glowing fire, dressed the ’possum, pared and split the sweet potatoes, and pretty soon he had the “’possum an’ ’taters” in the oven. While the meal was cooking Uncle Ned amused himself with his favorite old banjo. When the ’possum had been baked brown and crisp he took it out of the oven and set it on the hearth to give it time to cool. Mentally congratulating himself upon the glorious repast he thought soon to enjoy, he sat silently for awhile in the old armchair, but presently he was snugly wrapped in the arms of “tired nature’s sweet restorer—balmy sleep.”
It happened that two young fellows who were pretty well acquainted with Uncle Ned’s habits had been stealthily watching about the house waiting this particular chance. As soon as they were convinced that the old man was safe in the arms of Morpheus, they crept into the house and hurriedly helped themselves to Uncle Ned’s supper, including even the coffee and bread. When they finished the hasty meal, by way of attempting to cover up their tracks, they smeared Uncle Ned’s hands and mouth with the ’possum gravy and then beat a retreat.
After a time Uncle Ned aroused from his peaceful slumber. It is needless to say that he had dreamed about his supper. At once he dived down to inspect the viands, when, lo and behold, the hearth was empty! Uncle Ned steadied himself and studied awhile.
“Well,” said he finally, “I must ’a’ et dat ’possum; I must ’a’ et dat ’possum in my sleep!”
He looked at his hands. They were greasy. He smelt his hands. As he did so he said:
“Dat smells like ’possum grease! I sho must ’a’ et dat ’possum.”
He discovered grease on his lips. Out went his tongue.
“Dat tas’es like ’possum grease,” he said. He got up. He looked about the house. There was no sign of intruders. He rubbed his stomach. He resumed his seat, and, giving up all for lost, he said:
“Well, ef I did eat dat ’possum, hit sets lightah on my appertite dan any ’possum I evah et befo’.”
XXXIV. FREDERICK DOUGLASS.
In 1893 the World’s Columbian Exposition, or World’s Fair, was held in Chicago in commemoration of the four hundredth anniversary of the discovery of America. A negro man, the Hon. Frederick Douglass, attended that exposition and delivered an address on negro day. Speaking of this great man’s visit the Advance, one of Chicago’s great religious papers, said:
“It was fine to see at the Congress on Africa the tall form and magnificent head of the grand old man, Frederick Douglass, now seventy-five years of age, perfectly erect, kindly, majestic, the ‘ancient fires of inspiration welling up through all his being yet’; affable to all; finding it still to be as natural to be eloquent as to speak at all; sympathetic to the core with the people of his own race, yet none the less loyal to the common interests of all the people of his country; neither blind to the obstacles in their path and the cruel social injustice and meanness to which they are often exposed, nor, on the other hand, unmindful of the friends they have in the South as also in the North, or above all to the over-shining care and purpose of God Himself, with the ‘far-off divine intent’ that so clearly takes in the future of both the American and African continents. Few Americans have had a more conspicuously providential mission than Frederick Douglass. And hardly anything in this remarkable congress was more eloquent or more convincing than his personal presence.”
Frederick Douglass was born a slave, and his life as a slave was one of peculiar hardship. Of it he himself says in his autobiography: