And they’ll dig for a woodchuck the whole afternoon.”
The father of Daniel and Ezekiel Webster on leaving the home for a short time gave these boys some special work on the farm. On his return he found the labor unperformed, and frowning, demanded, “What have you been doing Ezekiel?” “Nothing, sir,” was the reply. “Well, Daniel, what have you been doing?” “Helping Zeke, sir,” he answered. How many boys are likewise disposed. They care not, and, if they can help it, will not work. They are like
—“a watch that wants both hands,
As useless when it goes as when it stands.”
MISCHIEF FOR IDLE HANDS.
Idleness has been well expressed by the ancients as “the burial of a living man.” It is “the very rust and canker of the soul, the devil’s cushion, pillow and chief reposal.” The boy who courts it will experience no little personal feeling of disgust in after years. When along in life, he will be able to say with a French beggar, who, while undergoing a long imprisonment, tattooed upon his right arm, “The past has deceived me, the present torments me, the future terrifies me.” Better heed Plato’s advice, “Prefer diligence before idleness, unless you esteem rust above brightness, for idleness is the hour of temptation.”
“Wanted, a well-grown boy who can make himself generally useful. Salary moderate to start with.” This was the advertisement that had called together some twenty-five boys. The merchant talked with one after another until only two remained in the outer office. “Come in, both of you,” called the merchant, “I can tell you what I want and what I’m willing to pay.” Then followed an enumeration of the services expected with the promise of two and a half dollars a week with an increase at the end of each six months. One of the two boys turned on his heel and said, “That settles it! I can’t afford to work for any such wages as that.” “I’ll try it,” said the other, “and if I suit you six months will soon pass. The two-fifty will pay my actual expenses, for I live at home; then when I get to earning more I can help more.” Five years passed. The first boy idled away his time and went from bad to worse. At last he stood in the prisoner’s dock awaiting trial for forgery. What was his astonishment to behold his former friend ranged on the side of the prosecution as junior member of a firm of eminent lawyers. There was no need for argument on either side, for the poor fellow broke down at the sight of his former schoolmate, and rising, said, “I’ll tell the truth and take my punishment. If I’d begun as that young man did five years ago I might have been somebody to-day, but I was above low wages and didn’t believe in small beginnings. Now I am a living example of what pride and indolence can do for a boy.” Satan is sure to find mischief for idle hands, and the only way to keep clear of his work is to be busy at something, pay or no pay.
Industry is one of the pet laws of nature, and as Periander, one of the Seven Wise Men of Greece, said, “Nothing is impossible to industry.” It has conquered our American forests, built cities as by magic, improved prairies and valleys until they blossom like the rose, and made our civilization rich with the arts, both liberal and fine. Long before the Indians owned California the gold fields were there. Before Franklin found electricity in the clouds, it was there. Before Marconi discovered the unseen waves of air to carry his messages across the sea, they were there. All that was needed was concentration, careful thinking and earnest, persistent effort to bring them into use.
All great men have had the gift of laboring intensely, continually and determinedly before succeeding, many of whom won their way against heavy odds. Arsaces, who founded the Parthian empire, against which the mighty hosts of Rome long contended in vain, was a mechanic of obscure origin. Andersen, the popular Danish author, was the son of a cobbler, and in his earlier years worked on the bench, doing his literary work on scraps of paper during the moments of rest from his regular duties. Cararra began his life as a drummer boy and driver of cattle, but subsequently rose to the presidency of the Republic of Guatemala. Demosthenes, the Greek orator and “prince of eloquence,” was the son of a blacksmith. In his first attempt at public speaking, he displayed such a weakness of voice, imperfect articulation and awkwardness that he withdrew from the speaker’s platform amidst the hooting and laughter of his hearers. Giotto, one of the founders of Italian art, was a shepherd boy whom Cimabue discovered drawing sheep in the sand with a pointed stone, with such accuracy that he took him as a student. Herschel when a boy, played for balls, and while the dancers were lounging round the room he would go out and take a peep at the heavens through his telescope. It was while doing this that he discovered the Georgium Sidus, which made him famous. Samuel Richardson, the novelist, was a poor bookseller. He sold his books in the front part of the store, while he wrote them in the rear. It was a hard struggle. “My own industry and God’s providence,” said he, “have been my whole reliance.” Lough, the English sculptor, reached success only through self-denial and hard work. He followed the plough by day and modelled by night. At length he went to London and took lodgings in an obscure house in a back street above a grocer’s shop, and there began his statue of Milo. While working on it he went three months without meat. All the coal he used that winter was a bushel and a half. When Peter Coxe found him he was tearing up his shirt and dipping the strips into water to keep the clay moist. At last the statue was finished. The roof had been removed to finish its head. His work was soon noised abroad and sculptors took great interest in it. The Duke of Wellington went to see it and ordered a statue, and the boy who had struggled and suffered so much became the greatest sculptor of England.