HARRISON LEAVING SCHOOL.
"The Lord . . . . blesseth the habitation of the just."
THOUGH we have made rather a long digression, yet we think, the reader will be interested to know more of the family in which our hero was to reside.
As his children grew up Mr. Cowles endeavored to instill into their minds the principles which had governed his own life.
One evening, Warren, the oldest boy, was trying to write a composition. He had finished his caption, and was leaning his head on his hand, puzzling his brain as to how he should begin. His father came and looked over his shoulder, and read, "Honesty is the best policy."
"Honesty is the only policy, for the matter of that," he exclaimed. "If you had seen as many persons as I have, try to work by some other, and try cheating or lying as the best policy, you'd be convinced they had no policy at all. Men don't want to be fooled more than once. When they see you have overreached them, they are shy of you ever afterwards. Or, if you are skilful at the business, and they don't find you out for a little, why then it's so much the worse for you; for you're just clapped into jail, and there's the end of your story."
"But, after all," continued the old man, "policy is neither here nor there. Policy isn't the rule we're required to go by. We've a higher rule than that. We've the plain commands of God, right up and down. You can't leap over them nor crawl under them. There they are, and there they'll stand, strong as the everlasting hills."
Mr. Cowles, in his earnestness, had arisen, and was walking back and forth across the room.
"I wish you wouldn't say it so fast, father," called the boy; "I can't write half of it."
The mother smiled; but the father turned to his son and asked, "What are you doing, Warren?"