We have, many of us, heard the story of the soldier who was killed in battle, and whose dog, unknown to him, had followed him, until he fell; and how when night descended on the battlefield, the faithful creature, mindful of his dead master's kindness to him, refused to quit the corpse, but stayed there to protect it. We have heard, many of us, the story of the poor beggar, with no friend on earth but one little dog, who, in return for his kindness in giving it food, followed him in his weary walks, until at last, on the cold and snowy high road, when the poor man lay down to die, it was his only companion. When in the morning a party of travellers passed along the road, they found them lying dead together, with a shroud of pure white snow covering them both. Then again you may have, seen Landseer's beautiful picture of "The Shepherd's chief mourner." The room is deserted, and the coffin is alone in the middle, with the shepherd's plaid thrown over it; alone, yet not alone, for there, with his head resting on his master's coffin, sits "the shepherd's chief mourner," the sheep-dog, who had followed him in life, and will not leave him, even after death. And if kindness, heaven-born kindness, goes so far with the lower animals, it has an equal, may I not say even a greater influence upon mankind. Which of us has not felt sometimes the benefit of kindness? It may have been in a time of sickness, or sorrow, it may have been a kindly word spoken as we passed away from a new-made grave. But whatever may have been the circumstances under which it was spoken, there can be but few whom a kind word has failed to reach. And if this is so; if we have derived joy and happiness from a kind word, why not speak a kind word to others, after the example of our God, "for He is kind, to the unthankful and the evil[#]."
[#] S. Luke vi. 35.
Strive, then, to practise the golden rule of kindness, in whatever station God has placed you. Be genial, be kind, be civil to all, following the Apostolic rule, "Be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another: even as God, for Christ's sake, hath forgiven you[#]."
[#] Ephesians iv. 32.
OUR PARENTS.
"Who sat and watched my infant head,
When sleeping on my cradle bed?
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My Mother!
Who taught my infant lips to pray,
And love God's holy Book, and Day,
And walk in wisdom's pleasant way?
My Mother!
And God, Who lives above the skies,
Would look with anger in His eyes,
If I should ever dare despise
My Mother!"
Our earliest recollections are of our father and mother! All through our childhood they were near us, joining in our play, nursing us in sickness, comforting in pain or trouble. All that made us happy, or that made the world seem bright to us, they gave us. They were always ready to reward us when we were good; they were always grieved when we did wrong. We never can repay our parents for all their kindness to us in our infancy. All the labour which supplied the bread we ate and the bed we slept on; and shall not we do what we can for them in their old age? If your parents, reader, were religious people, they prayed for you besides, and you will never know on this side the grave how many early temptations those prayers may have kept off. You can understand now why it was that your parents sometimes punished you for doing wrong, though you might not have seen the wisdom of it then. And the day will come, believe me, when you will learn--it may be only "through much tribulation"--the wisdom of the punishments inflicted by our Father in heaven. "For now we see through a glass darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part, but then shall I know even as also I am known." And now, in all humility, do let me say a word to those parents into whose hands this book may chance to fall. I have spoken of influence and its wonderful power in the other parts of this book. I have repeatedly dwelt on the necessity of setting a good example; let me do so once again here. I cannot put what I wish to say into better, or shorter, or simpler language than it has been put by a recent writer, who speaks as follows--"Old friends," he says, "fathers, mothers, whose heads are filled with the snows of age, whose brows are furrowed deep with the traces of life's cares and burthens, perhaps with the thorns of its crown, we look to you to teach us all that God means by death; all the blessings with which the angel who guides our pilgrimage comes laden, when he advances to clasp our hand, to be to us a rod and a staff through the glooms that hang about the threshold of the ever-lasting home. We look to see you with something of the brightness of the heavenly home upon you now; a gleam in the eyes, a tone in the look and bearing, which have been caught from long communion with the things and beings, whose full glory awaits you there. No complaints, no sadness, no sorrowful looking back to the world which you are leaving, and where your place, to which you thought yourself all-important, is already filled."
Lastly, let me return for a moment to those to whom this book is specially addressed. Young men, it is your duty and your privilege alike to take care of your parents, and to provide for their wants when they are too old or infirm to do so for themselves. Be laying by a little store of money now against that day, if it be only a few pence a week that you can save out of your wages, you can't think what a help it may be hereafter. You wouldn't like your children to leave you to die in the workhouse; you wouldn't like, when old age comes, to feel that you and your wife, who had lived happily together for years, were now to be taken to live within high walls in a pauper's dress, and not be free to go in and out as you pleased. You wouldn't like to find that you were suffering all this want, while your son, who was quite able to keep you out of it, was drinking away his wages in the nearest public-house. And if you wouldn't like this yourself, why should you treat your parents so? This, as you know, is not a made-up case; it is happening every day in almost every village in the country. God gave us parents, first, that they might take care of us; and then, if need be, that we should take care of them. The earthly parent should be in every way a pattern of the heavenly, for He is good, "even to the unthankful and the evil," to the just and to the unjust alike.
Reader, if you have not been doing your duty to your parents hitherto, go and begin at once. Try and make the old folks comfortable. Let them feel that their son is indeed a comfort to them, and a stay in their old age. And then, when old age comes upon you, God will repay you. In the hour of sickness He will be with you, comforting and blessing you: until the time come when you too have to lean on your staff for very age, while the shadows grow darker and darker round you.
OUR CHILDREN.