enter into, and be affected by, their operations, should not be so lightly esteemed in comparison, as many seem to think. I would present to those who cannot astound with great things, an example of accomplishing great, yea, greatest things, without astounding. For is it not a great thing, yea, one of the greatest, to take the inhabitants of a remote and rude town, and not only lead them in the ordinary ways of religion, but guide them to the study of all the Divine works, from the minutest, creeping at the roots or unfolding at the tips of the herbage, to the mightiest, which circle and shine in the celestial immensity? Is it not glorious, so to teach and exemplify, that out of nearly infant mouths, not only evangelically, but scientifically and philosophically, the praise of God is perfected? Let those who say, yea, go and do likewise, and great shall be their reward. When I began this article with an allusion to the gain-getting spirit, and with the fore-mention of an instructive incident, I did not anticipate that so wide a space would intervene before I should come to my story. But that scenery burst anew and so inspiringly on my conceptions, that I could not but describe it; that friend came so dearly and instructively into remembrance, that I did not like at once to dismiss him. And now, as an introduction to my incident, I would remark, that I am pleased to imagine that the part acted by the above-named individual, in the culture of the young, tended to paint the incident with its moral beauty and to point it with keen instruction. Early one summer morning, I was traveling in a chaise through this mountain town. I had arrived near the outskirts, when I fancied that I heard a singular noise, but did not then stop or look out to see what it might be, as I was in particular haste to my destination. I drove rapidly on. But soon the noise again startled my ear, and seemingly the shrill scream of a human being. Still driving on, I leaned out of the vehicle to learn whence came the piercing sound. I then discovered a boy pursuing me at the top of his speed, and crying after me to stop, which I now did. He came up nearly exhausted by half a mile's run, with his bosom all open, and his face all reddened with the heat, and reeking with perspiration, and he pantingly exclaimed, "You are losing your trunk, Sir." At this information I leaped out, and surely my trunk was in a deplorable condition. It had been fastened beneath the axle-tree. But one of the straps had got broken, and it was dangling by the other now almost wrested off, having been knocked against the stones and dragged through dust and mud till it was a sorry sight. I requested my benevolent informer to stand at the horse's head till I should put it into safety. Of course such a boy, or any boy, could not but do this under such circumstances. When ready to start again, in spontaneous gratitude I held out a piece of money, of more tempting value than our smallest silver coin; and lo! the little fellow drew back, and straightened up, and with a keener eye, and almost an offended tone, exclaimed-"Do you think I would take pay for that?" I could not prevail on him to receive the least compensation. I went on my journey, rejoicing in the accident, although it was to cost me the repairing of my torn and bruised trunk. It had made known to me one magnanimous boy. For, how many much slighter favors had I received from the young, who capered away insensible to the pleasure of doing a kindness, in the satisfaction of "taking pay for that." Ay, thought I, this boy is an honor to the common school; he is a Christian learner in my friend's Sunday School; he is a diligent reader of the juvenile library. Blessed pupil of a blessed pastor! thy getting is the true and the best one, that of understanding; to thee, "wisdom is the principal thing." How many, many times since, have I thought of that boy, and wished that I knew his name, and could trace his onward course. How many times, in my wanderings and stoppings within sight, even within the most distant glimpses of the peaked crown of that proud old hill-king, have I thought of that grand, that royalspirited boy. That mountain, by natural association, is to me a most fit monument to one magnanimity towering above many meannesses. Ye boys, and indeed ye men, of our country, to whom the moral of my story may apply, I pray you, when you shall perform a little favor spontaneously, or even by request, let your souls stand up in true nobility—in the heavenward grandeur of disinterestedness, and say in the spirit, "Do you think I would take pay for that?" |