Playing Truant.
Playing truant when sent to school, is almost always the means of getting into bad company; and bad company leads to ruin. A boy thirteen years old, was brought before the police court in Boston, charged with stealing a gold pen from a lawyer’s office. He had been in the habit of coming into the offices, in the building, and selling apples. The gentleman from whom he stole the pen had furnished him money to fill his basket; and he returned his kindness by stealing his pen, which was worth three dollars. His mother appeared before the court, and plead earnestly for her boy, saving that he was a good boy to her, except that he played truant from school. He then got into the company of a gang of boys, who peddle apples,—a thievish set,—and of them he also learned to steal. He was sent to the House of Reformation; which is a prison for boys, where they are kept at work and study, but not allowed their liberty.
Ruin of a Deacon’s son.
Several years ago, a young man about twenty years of age, filthy in his appearance, and shabbily dressed, called at the house of a clergyman in the city of New York. His countenance, though haggard, bore the marks of intelligence. The young man said he had been at his church the previous evening, and was desirous of having some conversation with the minister. He was requested to open his mind freely. He said he was the son of a deacon of a Congregational church in Connecticut. His father was a man of property and influence, and he himself had always moved in the most respectable society. He had come to New York in order to become acquainted with business, and prepare himself for an active and useful life. But he soon found himself surrounded with new temptations, without the restraining influences of home and friends. He fell into bad company. His vicious associates led him to the theatre, and when his passions were excited by what he saw, and stimulated by intoxicating liquors, he was persuaded to visit places of infamy and crime. These indulgences called for more money than he could honestly obtain; but his appetites, once excited, could not be easily restrained; and he had recourse to his employer’s money drawer to supply the deficiency. He eased his conscience, in this act, and deceived himself, with the hope of repaying it before he was detected. But in this he was mistaken. He was detected, tried, found guilty, and sentenced to the penitentiary for six months. He had now been out of prison a week, during which time he had been wandering about the city, ashamed to be seen or known. He had come to ask advice. The clergyman advised him by all means to go home to his father; assuring him that it was his only hope, for if he remained in the city, he would fall into the company of his old associates and be ruined. With the deepest agony, he exclaimed, “How can I ever return to my father’s house? How can I ever meet him or the virtuous companions of my youth? No! No! I am fallen—disgraced! I have been a felon, and in prison! No, I would rather die a vagabond in the street, than to see the face of my father, or the faces of the young people, who were my associates in the days when I felt myself as good as they.” He was yet unhumbled. He was yet unwilling, like the prodigal, to return to his father’s house. However, after much persuasion, he promised that the next morning he would set off for home. But he had not the moral courage to fulfil his purpose. He was ashamed to arise and go to his father. He continued to roam about the streets, and was again detected in stealing.
This anecdote shows not only the danger of bad company, but the peril of young men who go from the country to the city to engage in business. They had better remain at home, unless their principles are firmly established upon the foundation of true religion. There is nothing to be gained in the city that is worth the exposure of morals and character.
Bad Books.
Books are company; and the company of bad books is as dangerous as the company of bad boys or bad men. Goldsmith, who was a novel-writer of some note, writing to his brother about the education of a nephew, says, “Above all things never let your nephew touch a novel or a romance.” An opinion given in such a manner must have been an honest opinion. And, as he knew the character of novels, and had no nice scruples on the subject of religion, his opinion ought to have great weight.
An Example for boys.
A boy in London, in destitute circumstances, was put out as an apprentice to a mechanic. It is the business of the youngest apprentice to do all the errands and drudgery of the establishment, and frequently of his master’s family also. He was often sent by the workmen and older apprentices, to procure intoxicating liquors for them; of which all of them partook, except himself, because, as they said, it did them good. But because he refused to drink he was made an object of ridicule among them. They said he had not sufficient manhood to drink rum. But he had sufficient manhood to refuse to drink rum; and it requires much more to refuse than to drink.
Nothing can be more false than the idea that it is courageous and manly to fall in with the habits and practices of those with whom we are obliged to associate. It is a sign of cowardice rather than of courage. The sheep is the most timid of animals. But if a man is driving a flock of sheep, and one of them gets frightened and turns out of the way, all the rest will follow, no matter if it is over the railing of a bridge into a river. The boy that drinks or swears or plays truant, or breaks the Sabbath, because his companions do, is as courageous as—a sheep!