“Heard it, what kind of a bringing up has a fellow had, do you think? You know well enough that ever since I was in knickerbockers, that immortal rhyme has been drilled into me. I’m sick and tired of sermonizing, and all I have to say is, if you don’t wish for something grand, something beyond you, you never will amount to anything.”
“That is true, Jo, but wishing without action will not accomplish much. I’ve heard you make at least twenty wishes this morning. One, ‘I wish I was rich!’ just as though that were anything new; all boys wish that. Then you wished you were somebody great, somebody famous, like Cæsar or the Czar of Russia, or the President of the United States. Then you wished your father could only let you have a college education so that you might be a lawyer. And then, to go on to smaller matters, you wished it was Christmas, so that you might have vacation. And lastly, you wished you were a fine bicycle rider, so that you might win the prize in the coming race. I tell you, old fellow, I long ago learned such a wholesome lesson on the wishing point, that it made me over new, so to speak.”
“How so, John? now I am interested, for I thought you had been perfect from your youth up.”
“Well, to begin with the beginning and make an out-and-out confession, I’ll have to introduce you to my Uncle Charles. I wish you knew General Journay; I know you would like him even if he is an odd-looking man; he was once very handsome. He is too sensible to think he is handsome now, though, for there is no denying that he’s fat. He says it is constitutional, and maybe it is. I notice he is very uncomfortable, short of breath, you know; gets a red face in climbing up the stairs to the elevated road, and all that, but he’s jolly and good, and says he wants me to be a manly man, and I am going to try my best to please him. You know I am not as rich in relations as you are, for my parents died when I was a baby, and I never had either brothers or sisters; perhaps that’s one reason I think so much of you, Jo. Well, to go on with my story, when I was about twelve years old I went to visit for a week at my Uncle Charles’ home. He was delighted to have me with him, and I never tired of his companionship, or of looking at his soldier’s uniform, his sword and his medals. One day I said to him, ‘Oh, Uncle, I wish I were a General,’ and he replied, ‘There is no reason why you cannot be one, my boy, if the right material is only in you.’”
“‘What do you mean by right material, Uncle?’ I inquired.
“‘Why, humility, obedience, courage, honesty, truthfulness.’
“‘I did not know that soldiers were ever humble.’
“‘You must be humble enough to enter the lowest ranks, obedient enough to follow orders, courageous enough to face any emergency, honest enough to submit to pain rather than to steal, and truthful enough never to soil your lips or conscience with a lie.’
“Then my uncle told me of his own boyhood, of his poverty, his hindrances, his temptations; and I saw that the rank of General did not come by wishing, but by the greatest endurance, study, and hard work. I tell you what, Jo, as I listened to his story I felt so ashamed, and so small, I thought I would like to crawl away in a hole, anywhere almost, if I could only hide, for you know my uncle is such a noble, grand man. Then, too, my uncle told me of our great inventors, officers, rulers, whom the world is delighted to honor, and I saw that wishing had but little to do with their achievements and successes. I saw I had to buckle on my own armor and go to work.
“That night I could scarcely sleep; I kept thinking how insignificant uncle must think me, for I knew I had often wished for this, that and the other thing in his presence, and so when I did sleep I dreamed that I was in the woods, and I thought that all the bushes and trees were waving, and one big branch seemed like a long, bare arm beckoning to me. I felt an awesome, queer, uncanny feeling, and I was sure I was losing my way. I saw one and another path, but which one to take I knew not, when suddenly I heard a laugh; this frightened me so much that I jumped; then a voice said, ‘You little goosey-gander, what a brave soldier you would make, to be sure, afraid of a little laugh;’ and then I heard ha! ha! ha! and what seemed to me to be the most uproarious laughter, the shout of a hundred fairies. Soon a tiny old woman approached me saying, ‘I am a fairy queen. Ask for whatever you may wish while you are in my domain?’