THE FIRST OATH
BY REV. EBEN FRANCIS.
It is now many years since a near friend of mine uttered his first oath. We were very intimate in our youthful days. I have thought that I would write a little story about him, for some of the little folks of these times to read, hoping that it will not only be interesting, but do them good; for I am indeed sorry to know that swearing is a very common sin among the boys of our times.
The parents of my young playfellow were of the humbler class in society; they were industrious and prudent, and took great pains to teach him what was right. They lived in the metropolis of New England, where my schoolmate was born. His father wrought with the saw, the plane, the hammer, and such tools as carpenters use about their business. His home was a neat, wooden two-story house, in one of the streets of that part of Boston which was generally known, when we were boys, by the name of the MILL-POND. I suppose that most of my little readers who live in the city can tell where it is. Many changes have taken place there since my childhood. When I was a small boy it was called the town,—now we never hear of it but as the city of Boston. Its population has increased rapidly; its territory has been extended; it has grown in wealth, in splendor, in its means for mental and moral improvement; in the number and convenience of its public schools,—the pride and ornament, or the disgrace, of any place. Yes, Boston is not, in appearance or in fact, what it once was.
But I am getting off from my story. I was saying that my young friend resided on the "new-land"—no; the "Mill-Pond;"—well, it's all the same—for when they dug down old Beacon Hill, they threw the dirt into the Mill-Pond, and when it was filled up, or made land, the spot was still known as the Mill-Pond, and oftentimes was called the new-land. In later years, there have been other portions added to the city, by making wharves, and filling up where the tide used to ebb and flow, and where large vessels could float.
But again I am digressing too far from the story.
So soon as my friend was old enough, he was sent to one of the primary schools, and was a pretty constant scholar at that, and afterwards at a grammar school, till he was about twelve years old. He was, of course, much with other lads of his own age, and some who were older and younger than himself. He was, also, often in the streets, and as there were a great many people who used profane language in those days,—as there are at the present time,—he heard much of it; yet he had been so carefully trained that he did not for years utter wicked words.
It is always painful to most persons, old as well as young, to hear profanity, even though it be very common in their hearing, if they are never accustomed to its use.
My young friend had been taught to reverence the name of that great Being who made heaven and earth and all things. He was a member of a Sabbath school, and thus had much valuable advice from his faithful teacher to govern his conduct in word and deed. For a while he heeded this, and was careful of his moral character. But by-and-by, he overstepped the bounds of right.
It is very true that "evil communications corrupt good manners;" and that if one would not be bad, one means of safety is to keep out of bad company.