Stepping stones to manhood

by William Peter Pearce

WHAT IT MEANS.

What Napoleon was in this instance every boy can be. Generosity is a beautiful characteristic of a noble soul. As the hands of a clock tell the hour of time, generosity bespeaks heart-felt love and sympathy. And

“The truly generous is the truly wise;

And he who loves not others lives unblest.”

This word “generous” was once supposed to apply to nobility of descent, but now it applies to nobility of character. It is used in several ways, yet all fit and depend on each other as joists fit in mortises. Some one has defined the word as greatness of mind. Mind, that which Seneca calls “the proper judge of man,” “that which makes,” as Shakespeare said, “the body rich.” But greatness of mind is much more significant. It is like a large number before a cipher. It is, as Johnson said: “Great in great things and elegant in little things.”

“If there is a boy in school,” says Horace Mann, “who has a club foot, don’t let him know you ever saw it. If there is a boy with ragged clothes, don’t talk about rags in his hearing. If there is a lame boy, assign him to some part of the game that does not require running. If there is a hungry one, give him part of your dinner. If there is a dull one, help him to get his lessons. If there is a bright one, be not envious of him, for, if one boy is proud of his talents and another is envious of them, there are two great wrongs and no more talent than before. If a larger or stronger boy has injured you, and is sorry for it, forgive him. All the school will show by their countenances how much better it is than to have a great fuss. And remember Him who said: ‘Love your enemies,’ ‘bless them which curse you.’”

MEANNESS AND INJUSTICE.

As the North Pole is the opposite to the South Pole, so generosity stands over against selfishness. It glories in the right but scorns the wrong. “What can I do for you, madam?” asked President Jackson of an early caller at the White House. “Mr. President,” replied the visitor, “I am a poor widow and keep a boarding-house on E Street. Mr. H. has boarded with me for several months, but declines to settle his account. He receives a good salary as a clerk in the Treasury Department, but I cannot collect any money of him.” “Why not?” “He won’t pay it, sir.” “How much does he owe you, madam?” “Nearly $200.” “What is his salary?” “Almost $2,000 a year.” “That is a fair income,” said the President, thoughtfully, “he ought to live on that.” “He has paid me nothing for five months, sir. I need the money and came to ask your advice how to get it.” “He admits his indebtedness?” “Yes, sir, but he avoids me, on pay days, and I can get no satisfaction from him, after repeated solicitations.” “He must pay you, madam.” “I hope he can be made to. I can ill afford to lose it.” “Go to him,” said Jackson, “and get his note at thirty days for the full amount and interest.” “His note, sir! It wouldn’t be worth a penny.” “Get his note,” repeated the President, “and come to me again. We shall see how much it will be worth.” The widow withdrew. “I must have some kind of settlement of our account to-day,” she said to the delinquent boarder at noon, “if you cannot pay me cash you must give me your note at thirty days for the full amount and interest.” “Note? Certainly,” replied the clerk, carelessly, “I’ll give you half a dozen notes if that will do you any good. What are you going to do with it?” he continued, as he handed her the paper, without the slightest intention of paying it at maturity. “Collect it,” replied the landlady, firmly. “Hope you’ll have a good time and be successful at it,” said H., smiling sarcastically. “I certainly shall,” said the widow. “This note squares our account in full. You will please find other accommodations, Mr. H., from to-day.” Mr. H. left as requested, and next morning the widow called on the President a second time. “Good morning, madam,” said he, “did you get the note?” “Oh, yes, sir. He was very ready. But he laughed at me for being so easily satisfied with his mere promise to pay.” “Well, madam,” said the President, as he took the note and wrote boldly across the back, “Andrew Jackson,” “put this in the Washington Bank for collection. You’ve got a good endorser, at all events. The note will be paid at maturity. Good morning, madam.”

In due time the landlady notified H. that his note for $200 was due at the bank, on a certain day, but he only smiled. “But that note will surely be paid,” said the widow, confidently, “for I’ve got a good man’s name on the back of it.” “Have you, indeed?” asked the clerk, with a chuckle. “Who was fool enough to endorse my note for $200?” Merely out of curiosity to see who the fool was, he called at the bank the day the note was due. But he did not laugh when he read the endorsement. He could not afford to let that name go to protest, so he paid the note at once. Three days later he received the following letter:

Treasury Department.