Such is the force of perseverance. It gives power to weakness, and opens to poverty the world’s wealth. It spreads fertility over the barren landscape, and bids the choicest fruits and flowers spring up and flourish in the desert abode of thorns and briars. Look at Boston! Where are the three hills which first met the view of the pilgrims as they sailed up its bay? Their tops are shorn down by man’s perseverance. Look at the granite hills of Quincy? Proudly anchored in the bosom of the earth, they seem to defy the puny efforts of man, but they are yielding to man’s perseverance. Forbidden and hopeless as they would appear to the eye of indolence and weakness, they are better than the treasures of Peru and the gem-strewn mountains of Brazil, to a people endowed with the hardy spirit of perseverance! They are better, for, while they enable them to command the precious metals yielded by other climes, they cherish a spirit and a power which all the gold of Golconda could not purchase.—Fireside Education, by S. G. Goodrich.
LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP.
“Look before you leap,” is an advice applicable to many circumstances of human life, besides the mere examination of the locality in which, on which, or over which, you are about to exhibit your own or your horse’s agility in the performance of a saltation. Such was the course of meditation that suggested itself to my mind, as I beheld an old woman step slowly and deliberately off the foot-path of Carlisle Bridge, and, without looking right or left, walk directly across the path of the Kilkenny mail-coach, that was just then coming in, the driver, of course, making his cattle do the thing handsomely, as they were so near home. Before he could pull up, the leaders had upset her, and the coroner had tenpence of his shilling surely counted, when a tall, athletic-looking gentleman, stooping suddenly, seized her by the legs, and dragged her from under the horse’s feet, somewhat to the disarrangement of her attire. “Look before you leap,” said he, giving her a smart shake; “did you never hear that adage, you stupid creature?”
“Arrah!” said she, with the most perfect innocence, “sure I was’nt goin’ to jump. Such a sayin’ was’nt made for the likes iv me.” “Poh! you stupid being,” said he, and walked on.
I followed, making the above reflection, when, about half way over, the actively benevolent gentleman saw a little boy about nine or ten years old put his hand into a gentleman’s pocket; he instantly, with a promptitude similar to what he had just exhibited, dealt him a blow that nearly knocked the breath out of him.
The proprietor of the pocket, startled by the “Hagh” that announced the sudden and almost total expulsion of the sufferer’s breath, turned sharply round, and, as the boy staggered over against the balustrades, fiercely asked, “Who did that?”
“That young rascal, sir, had his hand in your pocket,” said the striker.
“Well, sir, and what if he had?—He’s my son.”
“Your son! Sir, I beg a thousand pardons. I—I—I—”
There is nothing I hate more than to see an unfortunate individual in an awkward dilemma. Maybe it is from having so often suffered, that I have a sort of fellow feeling. So, merely repeating to the recent promulgator of the old adage his own words, “Look before you leap,” I passed on.