Part 2

He who possesses a good constitution and a body whose strength he has tested by repeated trials is not apt to turn tail at small fears, as are the weak and delicate. He is able to present to difficulties, or, it may be, to danger, a steadfast mind and a calm exterior. It is this sort of Courage which makes the English soldier renowned in war. Had it not been for the dogged persistence of his soldiers in holding their ground, in spite of a hurricane of shot and shell, Wellington could never have held Napoleon at bay at Waterloo. But, while this Fearlessness is much to be admired, it is, after all, the least heroic form of Courage, because so much of it is purely physical.

Fighting, as a test of Courage, is greatly overestimated. Experienced soldiers tell us that it requires a good deal of Courage to go into battle for the first time. "You look pale," said one officer to another, as he came within range of the enemy's guns for the first time; "are you afraid?" "Yes," answered the other; "if you were half as much afraid, you would turn tail." But, with most soldiers, the feeling of fear soon wears off, and where there is no fear there is not much trial of Courage. The physical Courage that we all covet is that which leads a man to do what others dare not. In 1892, a young clergyman, on a visit to this country, was crossing the foot-bridge at Niagara Falls. When about one-third of the way across, he saw a lady stepping up from the carriage path to the sidewalk. She caught her toe against the edge, stumbled forward, and fell through the open iron work at the side of the bridge. She happened to be over the place where the broken rocks line the edge of the water. In her swift descent, she struck her head against one of the girders and was stunned; her body then turned over and fell across another girder. At this moment the clergyman came up. Looking over, he saw her body swaying gently, and evidently about to drop very soon to the awful rocks, over two hundred feet below. Without a moment's hesitation, he sprang out over the edge of the bridge, and, seizing one of the iron rods that supported the girder, he slid down, and then crept along the narrow girder till he reached the lady. Bracing himself with immense difficulty, he kept her from plunging into the abyss until help arrived, death beckoning to him from below, if he should lose his head for a single moment. At length a rope was lowered to him, and they were soon drawn up. That is a splendid example of physical Courage.

A higher type of Courage is that which enables us to endure pain. Endurance is a rarer quality than dashing Fearlessness. It was said that in the Franco-Prussian war, in 1870, the French soldiers were more brilliant in the on-rush than the Prussians, but they lacked endurance, and could not stand for long before artillery fire. This type of Courage is best seen in bearing pain. When Epictetus was a slave, his master was one day beating him. The poor slave said: "If you do not look out, you will break my leg." Presently the bone snapped. "There," said Epictetus, as _calmly_ as before, "I told you you would break it." One of the most remarkable instances of the Courage of endurance is that of the defence of Cawnpore, in the days of the Indian Mutiny, by a handful of English troops, with their wives and children. For twenty-one days they endured untold agonies of exposure by a never-ceasing fire, of hunger, of thirst (sharp-shooters picking off any one who dared approach the single well in the camp), of the midsummer sun, of sickness, and of the unutterable foulness of their surroundings. The soldiers' wives showed even greater endurance than the men. Women generally have greater courage than men in the matter of bearing pain.

The highest type of Courage is that which is called Moral Courage, and is exercised about matters of right and wrong as they affect us individually. "It is shown by the man who pays his debts, who does without when he cannot afford, who speaks his mind when necessary, but who can be silent when it is better not to speak. It requires Moral Courage to admit that we have been wrong." It requires Moral Courage to stand being laughed at, although it is the sign of a wise man to be able to enjoy a laugh at his own expense. It requires Moral Courage to run the risk of losing one's popularity. Socrates was the greatest teacher of ancient times, and he was beloved by many of his pupils; but because his lofty teaching ran beyond the attainments and spirit of his age, he was condemned to drink the deadly hemlock. He died calmly, even joyfully, discoursing to his judges of the immortality of the soul. Galileo was imprisoned when seventy years of age, and, probably, tortured. He was content to suffer it, and refused to retract what he had proved to be scientific truth.

When we are laughed at or threatened with persecution of any kind, Courage bids us stand by our principles.

"As the crackling of thorns under a pot, So is the laughter of a fool,"

said Solomon. It is the part of wisdom to disregard being laughed at. When a boy lacks backbone, we say he is easily led, which means, easily led wrong. How we pity such a boy!

The highest Courage is that which leads men to sacrifice their lives of their own free will. Such was the courage of the soldiers and sailors of the _Birkenhead_. In one of the battles of the Peninsular War, a sergeant named Robert M'Quaide saw two French soldiers aim their muskets against a very young officer, sixteen years old. M'Quaide pulled him back behind him, saying: "You are too young, sir, to be killed," and then fell dead, pierced by both balls.

Courage is a very different thing from Recklessness, or Foolhardiness. An old proverb says: "Courage is the wisdom of manhood; foolhardiness the folly of youth." And Carlyle said: "The courage that dares only die is, on the whole, no sublime affair.... The Courage we desire and prize is not the courage to die decently, but to live manfully."

No. V.

PURITY

+By Purity we mean that state of mind which is possessed by him who fights against foul thoughts, drives them away, and who never allows himself to perform an unclean action, or to use filthy, or obscene, language.+

Purity involves three things: (1) Clean language, (2) clean thoughts, (3) clean actions. They are put in this order because it generally happens among the young that impurity begins with hearing unclean language, and by imitating it. A little boy hearing others use foul language soon begins to use it himself, though he may not know its real meaning. Alas! it does not take long for him to learn the meaning of it also; and it is but a short step from foul language to impure thoughts and filthy actions.

Purity is one of the three heroic virtues; the others are Truth and Courage. In the age of chivalry men valued Purity above all things except Truth and Courage. Tennyson makes his hero say:

"My good blade carves the casques of men, My tough lance thrusteth sure; My strength is as the strength of ten, Because my heart is pure."

Purity is one of the most manly virtues. Impurity marks the coward and the sneak, because it is nearly always directed in thought or action secretly against those weaker than ourselves. In "Tom Brown at Oxford," one of Tom Brown's friends says: "I have been taught ever since I could speak that the crown of all real manliness is Purity." You may ask: "Why is it manly?" It is manly because it cannot be got without a hard struggle; the temptation to be impure in thought, if not in language, is one of the hardest temptations to overcome. A little boy may not feel it, but the older he grows the harder he has to fight against impurity in his heart, and in his life.

We must, first of all, guard against unclean language. There are some words which are merely filthy, without being immoral; both are bad, and the one leads to the other. Little boys often long to have other words to put into their language than they have learned at home, because they think the home language not strong enough or manly enough. In order to satisfy themselves that they are no longer children, they begin at school to copy the strong words of the boldest and most reckless of the boys they meet, and they quickly add to their vocabulary unclean and even immoral words, because such words seem to be the mark of manliness, and of personal independence of character. By the time that a boy begins to realize what such words really mean, he has already formed the habit of using unclean language, and a bad _habit_ is the hardest thing in the world to get rid of.

Any one who thinks about the matter for a moment will admit that filthy language is not only not manly, but that it is degrading to the mind and character. One of the most manly characters of modern times was Coleridge Patteson, Bishop of Melanesia, who died in 1874, by the clubs of savage islanders, who, when he was dead, placed him in a boat with his hands crossed, and set him adrift upon the Pacific. We are told by an old schoolmate of his that once, when he was captain of the cricket eleven at Eton, some boys at the cricket dinner began to sing a coarse song. "Coley" Patteson had said that he would leave the room if such a song were sung, and as soon as they began it he quietly got up and went out. The result of his action was that the bad custom was stopped entirely. The old poet of Israel sang: "O Lord, keep the door of my lips." We all need to make that request. Another of the most manly men of modern times was General Grant, President of the United States. We are told of him that on one occasion, when a number of gentlemen were dining together, some one began to tell an indecent story. He commenced by saying: "I have a first-class story which I may tell, seeing that there are no ladies present." "No! but there are _gentlemen_ present," said General Grant, and the story was not told.

The use of unclean words leads to impure thoughts and to filthy actions. It is difficult to speak plainly about this matter of personal Purity. Every boy when he reaches a certain age is tempted by the Devil in the way of impure thoughts. These are first presented by unclean things which come into the imagination. If they are not fought against, and driven out by force of strong will, in a short time the imagination, naturally one of the purest and most beautiful faculties of the human mind, will become tainted, and at last foul and degraded. Unclean words do harm, first, to the individual character, by destroying its early purity and delicacy, just as we spoil the beauty of a grape by rubbing off its bloom; and, secondly, to those who hear and may learn to use them. But unclean thoughts, the evil imaginations, injure the _soul_, and the _mind_, and the _body_. They injure the soul by making it take delight in that which is foul and base, and which belongs to the brutes. They hurt the mind by destroying its power to concentrate itself on work, or on anything that lies outside of self. They injure the body, because he who is given up to foul thoughts soon becomes capable of nothing else. He avoids companions, he desires to be _alone_, that he may take delight in foul images of the mind, and so the body is neglected and loses its strength.

There is even a worse stage, when the foul imagination results in _secret_ acts of filthiness, which eventually will destroy body, mind, and soul. The poor wretch who has learned such horrible habits may live on, but not many years can pass until he shall become an idiot, and must be confined in an asylum, away from his fellow-men. Terrible, indeed, is the fate of such a person. How significant are the words of the great Teacher, "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God!" Another great teacher once said that pure religion was: "To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself _unspotted_ from the world."

No. VI.

UNSELFISHNESS

+Unselfishness is the giving up personal gain or advantage. It is the desire to do the will of another rather than our own. It is making a sacrifice to please some one else.+

Truth, Purity, and Courage are called the heroic virtues; Unselfishness is greater than any of them. It is like the Christian virtue of Charity or Love; it makes people forget their own interests for the sake of others. Unselfishness is the great lesson we learn from studying the life of Jesus; He is the great example to the world of absolute self-forgetfulness. We admire notable examples of this virtue. One of the members of the Light Brigade tells us that in that terrible charge he was wounded in the knee, and also in the shin. He could not possibly get back from the scene of the fight. Another soldier passing by said: "Get on my back, chum." He did so, and then discovered from the flowing blood that his rescuer had been shot through the back of the head. When told of it, he said: "Oh, never mind that; it's not much, I don't think." But he died of that wound a few days later. The brave fellow thought not of his own wound, but only how he might help another, though he belonged to a different squadron and was unknown to him.

Unselfishness is one of the hardest things to learn. A boy may be naturally brave and even generous, but no one is naturally unselfish. We are apt to confuse generosity with unselfishness; really they are quite different. A generous person gives out of his abundance, liberally; an unselfish person of what seems necessary to his happiness. A generous boy shares his weekly purchases with his friends; an unselfish boy, out of pity at some distressful case, gives away all his allowance for that week, and cheerfully goes without. The selfish boy spends his money upon himself alone. It is hard to neglect Self.

Even the selfish make sacrifices occasionally. But there is not much virtue in being unselfish now and then, if, in the meantime, we think of nothing but gratifying our own desires. Real Unselfishness is a habit, and needs to be acquired as does any other habit. We have to begin practising it, and to go on practising it, in the little things of life as well as the great, for a long time before we are finally able to forget self and think of others first. It is perhaps impossible to forget self altogether; but Unselfishness aims to that.

A boy is going down town for some amusement. His sister asks him to take a parcel for her to the house of a friend, who lives considerably out of the way. He says he can't be bothered, or that he will miss some of his fun; he is selfish. Another boy is next at bat, and the "Pro." is going to bowl. A friend asks him to exchange places on the list, as he has to meet his father at the train later on, and he is near the foot of the list. The first boy consents, though he knows he will not get nearly so good a practice; he is unselfish. The unselfish person is constantly trying to lighten the burdens of others.

If you wish to tell a thoroughly selfish person, watch his conversation. He talks constantly of himself, of what he has done, or will do, or can do. His belongings are better than those of another, merely because they are his. He loves himself more than any one else; and it is natural to talk of what we love best. Lord Bacon said: "It is a poor centre of a man's actions, _himself_. It is right earth." He also said: "The referring of all to a man's self is a desperate evil in a citizen of a republic." "Wisdom for a man's self is, in many branches thereof, a depraved thing. It is the wisdom of rats, that will be sure to leave a house before it fall. It is the wisdom of the fox, that thrusts out the badger who digged and made room him. It is the wisdom of crocodiles, that shed tears when they would devour."

An old proverb says: "Love thyself, and many will hate thee."

Unselfishness is hard to practise, because it brings no reward in this life. The unselfish man, indeed, is often imposed on by the self-seeking, and more often still simply because he is unselfish, and never ceases to think of others. A Christian man in the city of Toronto, widely known for his charities, subscribed $500 to a deserving object. The committee in charge of the matter appointed collectors to go about and ask help from the public. A lady called upon this gentleman, not knowing that he had already given largely. He was about to tell her of his first subscription, when he noticed her face fall at the expected refusal. He immediately took her little book and put down his name for a second amount. He could not bear to send her empty away. His first subscription was generosity; his second, Unselfishness. There _is_ a reward here for Unselfishness--the approval of one's own Conscience, and, after all, that is of greater permanent value than the praise of men.

In an age when there is so much grasping after personal gain, it is refreshing to read of great instances of forgetfulness of self. When the _Victoria_, after her collision with the _Camperdown_, was found to be sinking, Admiral Sir George Tryon ordered the sick and the prisoners to be brought up from below, and then gave the usual order, always the last to be given on a ship: "All hands for themselves." Not a man broke ranks until that order was given. Even then the chaplain stayed to help the sick, and so lost his life. The Admiral himself went down, standing on the bridge; and, most notable of all, young Lanyon, a junior midshipman, refused to leave the Admiral's side, though told to jump, and they went down together.

"He that loseth his life shall find it."

No. VII.

HONESTY

+Honesty is Truth practically applied to questions about the property of others. It is the principle of dealing with others as we would desire others to deal with us. The sole guide in fulfilling this obligation is not what the Law may be, but what our Conscience tells us.+

(1) Honesty is a form of Truthfulness. It is that form of it which is concerned with our dealings with others, especially as to their possessions. The opposite of it is called Dishonesty, and the worst form of Dishonesty is Stealing. The thief is hated, and feared, and despised more than any other sort of criminal. Men fear him as they do poisonous snakes; because the thief is a creeping creature, hiding himself and his actions from the light of day. He watches you until you feel secure, and are less careful than usual of your possessions; then he sneaks about, waiting for a favourable moment when no one is near to observe or suspect him before snatching your property. A man may commit a very grievous offence against another in a moment of passion; and, though we acknowledge the justice of his punishment, we do not hate him. But men hate a thief because he is a sneak, and because his offence is done in cold blood, not in the heat of anger; in an underhand way, not openly and above board.

The confirmed thief is one who has yielded his soul to the Devil. He deliberately sacrifices his character; he surrenders himself of his own free will to a life of evil. Stealing inevitably leads to lying, and these two things degrade the character more quickly than any other evils that touch it. Not only does he destroy the purity of his soul; before long he must yield up his body for punishment. Not one thief in a hundred goes long unpunished.

(2) There are other forms of dishonesty not so open as stealing, and, in some cases, not so harmful, but generally degrading and destructive of high character. One of these is Cheating. If a coal dealer is paid for a ton of coal and delivers only nineteen hundred pounds, he is guilty of stealing. If, however, he gives full weight, but sells the coal as first-class, when it contains shale or other impurities, and is really of a cheap grade, then he is cheating. The schoolboy who copies his night-work from another, or gets help, and then presents the exercise as his own, is guilty of cheating. This form of cheating is made worse when it is done in examinations, because the result affects not only the standing of the person who cheats, but deprives others of fairly won advantage.

(3) Another form of dishonesty is that by which one person takes advantage of another in a bargain, through his ignorance or helplessness, even though nothing is actually misrepresented. For example, A. asks B. to lend him ten cents for a month. B. knows that A. is in a tight place, and must have the money; and so he offers it on condition that A. will pay him twenty cents at the end of the month. B. is dishonest, because he takes unlawful advantage of A.'s necessity.

(4) There is a kind of cheating not referred to above--that is cheating in games. Apart from the effect of this kind of cheating upon the character, the game itself is spoiled. There is a tendency, nowadays, to play games for the sake of the victory alone, and to take no interest in games that one cannot win. We should play the game for its own sake, and frown down all attempts to win it by going just a little outside of what we know to be the rules. He who allows himself to cheat at games is forming a habit which will lead him to cheat later on in serious business.

(5) Another form of dishonesty is that relating to property lost and found. A boy finds a sum of money in a room, or hall, or playground, or even on the street. Money is a thing not easily identified, and there is, therefore, a temptation to pocket it and say nothing about it. This is dishonest. The duty in such a case is plain, to try to find the owner, and, if that cannot be done, then to put the money to some useful or charitable purpose, and not into one's own pocket.

(6) Still another form of dishonesty is that in which one person takes to himself the praise belonging to another; or allows another to bear blame belonging to himself. We often see boys letting others suffer, in one way or another, for what they have done. Nothing can be meaner or more contemptible. It is not uncommon to see people eager to take the credit, or praise, or even rewards, which properly belong to others, who have been thrust aside, or forgotten, for the moment. It is a form of dishonesty.

Honesty has another side also. When practised according to the voice of Conscience, without regard to what the law may be, it is the sign of a noble character. A young man's father fails in business, and dies suddenly, leaving many debts behind him unpaid. The young man makes a solemn resolution that he will save and save, and work his hardest, to pay off those debts, though he did not make them; that is the Honesty of the truly noble character. A very striking example of this sort of Honesty is that of Sir Walter Scott, who applied himself, though nearly sixty years of age, to the enormous task of paying off, by the sale of his stories, a debt of $600,000, which he did not actually incur, and from which he could have got free, according to the letter of the law. But his inflexible Honesty forced him into making an effort which doubtless shortened his life.

No. VIII.

FAITHFULNESS

+Faithfulness is being true to our word, and to our friends, fulfilling our obligations, and doing what we see is our duty, at all costs.+