Third, there is the courage of endurance.—This is really the noblest form of courage. There is no excitement in it; nothing to be won by it. It is simply to bear without flinching. In the buried city of Herculaneum, near Vesuvius, now uncovered, after the guide has shown the visitor the wonders of the place he takes him to the gate and points out the stone box where were found, buried in ashes, the rusted remains of the helmet and cuirass of the Roman sentinel. When the black cloud rose from the mountain, and the hot ashes fell around him, and the people rushed out at the gate, he stood there immovable, because it was his duty, and died in his place, suffocated by the sulphury air. It was a grand instance of courage, but it is seen again and again equalled in common life. In men and women stricken down by fell disease; in those on whom adverse circumstances close like the walls of an iron chamber; in people for whom there was no possible escape, who could only bear, but who stood up firm and erect in their weakness, whose cross, instead of crushing them to the earth, seemed only to lift them up. We are told that Robert Hall, the great preacher, suffered much from disease. He was forced often to throw himself down and writhe on the ground in paroxysms of pain. From these he would rise with a smile, saying, "I suffered much, but I did not cry out, did I? did I cry out?"

These are the chief forms of moral courage in ordinary life. We have now to point out what are the sources of such courage.

The first source of courage is conviction—the feeling that we are in the right, the "testimony of a good conscience." Nothing can make a man brave without that. "Thrice is he armed," we are told, "who hath his quarrel just," and he is more than trebly armed who knows in his heart that it is just. If we go over the roll of the strongest and bravest men the world has seen we will find that at the root of their courage there lay this fact of conviction. They believed, therefore they spake, therefore they fought, therefore they bled and died. The man of strong conviction is the strong man all the world over. If a man wants that, he will be but a feeble character, a poor weakling to the end of the chapter. Shakespeare says that "conscience makes cowards of us all"; but it does something else when it makes us fear evil—it lifts us above all other fear. So it raised Peter, who had shortly before denied his Master, to such courage that he could say before his judges, "Whether it be right in the sight of God to hearken unto you more than unto God, judge ye. For we cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard." It has enabled men and women to endure a martyr's death when one word, which they would not speak, might have saved them.

The second source of courage is faith.—We use the word in the Christian sense of trust in God. When a man feels that God is with him he can stand up against all the powers of earth and hell. "If God be for us, who can be against us?" The heroes of the past, who subdued kingdoms and wrought righteousness, have all been men of faith. Recall Hebrews xi., the Covenanters, the Ironsides of Cromwell, the Huguenots, Luther, Knox. Their faith may not have been so enlightened as it might have been had their knowledge been wider. Their religious creeds may have contained propositions that are no longer accepted, but they were strong because of their undoubted faith in God. When His presence is an abiding presence with us and in us, our

Strength is as the strength of ten, Because our hearts are pure.

He who fears God will know no other fear.

The third source of courage is sympathy.—A man who has God with him will be brave if he stand alone, but he will be greatly helped if he is in company with others like himself and knows that he has the sympathy of good men. You remember St. Paul on his journey to Rome reaching a little village about thirty miles from the great city. The look-out for him was very depressing. He had appealed to Caesar, but what likelihood was there of his obtaining justice in Caesar's capital. He might be thrown to the lions, or made to fight for his life in the Coliseum, a spectacle to the Roman multitude. Then it was that a few Roman Christians who had heard of his approach came out to meet him, and, it is said, "he thanked God and took courage." Such was the power of sympathy. If we would be encouraged we will seek it. If we would encourage others we will give it.

We will only say in closing this chapter that its subject is most truly illustrated by the life of our Lord himself. The mediaeval conception of Christ was that He exhibited only the passive virtues of meekness, patience, and submission to wrong. From the gospels we form a different idea. He vanquished the devil in the wilderness; He faced human opposition boldly and without fear; He denounced the hypocrisy of the Pharisees, and encountered their rage and violence. He went calmly along His appointed path, neither turning to the right hand nor to the left. Scribes, Pharisees, Sadducees, could not deter Him from doing His Father's work. Amid a tumultuous tempest of ill-will He moved straight forward, foreseeing His death, "setting His face toward Jerusalem," knowing all that awaited Him there. He went through Gethsemane to Calvary with the step of a conqueror. Never was He more truly a king than on the cross, and the grandest crown ever worn was "the crown of thorns." In Him we have the highest example of courage, as of all other virtues.



CHAPTER VIII.

HEALTH.

Health means soundness of body and of mind; the keeping of our physical system in such a condition that it is able to do its work easily, without disturbance, and without pain; the exercise of the mind so as not to harm the body. There are certain preliminary considerations that we should bear in mind in connection with this subject.

I. The close connection between body and mind.—They are both related to each other in some mysterious way. So close is the connection that the one cannot be affected without the other. The well-being of the one depends on the well-being of the other. The power which the mind has over the body and the body over the mind has been well and tersely described by a writer of our time. "Man," he says, "is one, however compound. Fire his conscience, and he blushes; check his circulation, and he thinks tardily or not at all; impair his secretions, and the moral sense is dulled, discolored, or depraved, his aspirations flag, his hope and love both reel; impair them still more, and he becomes a brute. A cup of wine degrades his moral nature below that of the swine. Again, a violent emotion of pity or horror makes him vomit; a lancet will restore him from delirium to clear thought; excessive thought will waste his energy; excess of muscular exercise will deaden thought; an emotion will double the strength of his muscles; and at last, a prick of a needle or a grain of mineral will in an instant lay to rest forever his body and its unity." [1] When we consider the close connection between mind and body, and how the state of the one affects the other, we see how important it is that both should work together in that harmonious action which is health, and how carefully we should guard against anything by which that harmonious action may be interrupted.

II. Bodily health is almost essential to success in life.—It is not absolutely essential, but it is almost essential. (a) Physical health is not everything. "Give a man," it has been said, "a good deep chest and a stomach of which he never knew the existence, and he must succeed in any practical career." This has been said by a great authority, Professor Huxley, but it is only partially true, for many worthless people fulfil these conditions. They are, as Carlyle calls them, only "animated patent digesters." (b) Great things also have been done in the world by men whose health has been feeble. Calvin was a man of sickly body; Pascal was an invalid at eighteen; Pope was weak and deformed; William of Orange, a martyr to asthma; Hall, the famous preacher, suffered great paroxysms of pain; Milton was blind; Nelson, little and lame; St. Paul in bodily presence was weak. On the other hand, some of these men might have done more if their health had been better. Health is a splendid possession in the battle of life. The men of great physical vitality, as a rule, achieve most; other things being equal, their success in life is sure. Everything shows that the greatness of great men is almost as much a bodily affair as a mental one. It has been computed that the average length of life of the most eminent philosophers, naturalists, artists, jurists, physicians, musical composers, scholars and authors, including poets, is sixty-five years. This shows that the most successful men on the whole have had good bodies and been blessed with great vitality.

III. The care of the body is a religious duty.—(a) It is so because our spiritual feelings are largely dependent upon the state of our health. "Certain conditions of body undeniably occasion, irritate and inflame those appetites and inclinations which it is one great end of Christianity to repress and regulate." The spirit has sometimes to maintain a terrible struggle against the flesh. Intemperance is largely the result of bad feeding. "It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle," than for a dyspeptic person to be gentle, meek, long-suffering. Dark views of God often come from the state of the body. It would largely lift up the moral and spiritual condition of men if their surroundings were such as tended to keep them in health. To improve men's dwellings, to give them healthy homes, pure air to breathe, and pure water to drink, would tend to help them morally and spiritually, (b) God requires of us a certain amount of service by and through our bodies. We cannot perform the work if we destroy the machines by which the work is to be done. (c) Scripture especially calls us to make the body the object of our reverent care. "Your bodies are members of Christ." The body "is for the Lord, and the Lord for the body." "Your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost, which is in you, which ye have of God." "If any man defile the temple of God, him will God destroy." Yield "your members as instruments of righteousness unto God." Sin is not to "reign in your mortal body." "Glorify God in your body." We are to "present our bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is our reasonable service." (d) The body is a part of that humanity which Christ by His incarnation took, redeemed, sanctified and glorified. (e) Our Lord's miracles were nearly all performed on the human body, for its relief, cure, and restoration to life.

IV. To a certain extent our health is in our own hands.—Not altogether, for some are constitutionally defective, and subject to infirmities with which they are born, and which they have perhaps inherited. But a vast amount of disease is preventable, and comes from causes over which we have direct control. "It is reckoned that a hundred thousand persons die annually in England of preventable diseases"—from disobedience to the laws of health, which are God's laws, and the transgression of which, wilfully, is sin. Beyond all doubt a vast amount of sickness comes from bad living, from intemperance in eating and drinking, from breathing bad air, from inhabiting ill-constructed houses. It is possible to live in accordance with the laws of health so that life may be comparatively free from disease and from pain. If Providence denies health, the want of it must be patiently endured. If we have inherited weakness, we must make the most of the strength we have. But if we lack health through our own fault we are guilty of shameful sin.

To discuss fully the subject and laws of health would require a whole treatise, and would be beyond the scope of this text-book. There are, however, some outstanding conditions for the preservation of health which are plain to everyone, and which may be summed up in the three words Temperance, Exercise, and Rest. These have been well termed the three great physicians, whose prescriptions are painless and cost nothing.

1. Temperance.—Man needs a certain amount of food to sustain him, but if that amount be increased beyond the proper quantity it is dangerous to health. It overtasks the power of digestion and is injurious. We need therefore to be constantly on our guard as to what we eat and drink lest we run into excess. Every one must study his own constitution, find out its need, and suit the supply of food to its wants. According to the old proverb, "We should eat to live, not live to eat." It is a great matter for health when we are able to strike the proper medium and neither eat nor drink too much nor too little. To lay down rules on this subject for the individual is impossible. "One man's food is another man's poison." A man must determine from his own experience what he ought to take, and how much, as well as what he ought to avoid. The word intemperance is generally employed as applying to the abuse of strong drinks. On this subject much has been written, some advocating total abstinence and others judicious and moderate use. Into this region of controversy we cannot enter. The evils of drinking habits, as they are called, are plain to all. They are a terrible curse to society, and a terrible danger to the individual. They have ruined many a promising career. For many, perhaps we may say for most, entire abstinence is their only safety. He who finds that he can do his work well by drinking only water will be wise if he drinks nothing else. That will never harm him, though other liquids may. We must judge for ourselves, but "Temperance in all things" is a rule binding on every Christian man. We cannot have health unless we strictly and constantly practise temperance.

2. Exercise.—This is as necessary to health as food. "Only by exercise—physical exercise—can we maintain our muscles, organs and nervous system in proper vigor; only by exercise can we equalise the circulation and distribute the blood evenly over every part of the body; only by exercise can we take a cheerful and wholesome view of life, for exercise assists the digestion, and a good digestion is a sovereign antidote to low spirits; only by exercise can the brain be strengthened to perform the labor demanded of it." [2] No sensible man will try to do without it. If any man does so he will pay the penalty. As to the amount of exercise and the kind of exercise every man must judge for himself. Some, from their occupation, need less than others; the outdoor laborer, for instance, than the clerk who is most of the day at the desk. One man may take exercise best by walking, another by riding, another by following outdoor sports. Athletics, such as football, and cricket, are a favorite form of exercise with the young, and if not followed to excess are most advantageous. The walk in the open air is life to many. But boy or man can never be what they ought to be unless they take exercise regularly and judiciously, take it not to exhaust but to refresh and stimulate. It strengthens the nerve and clears the brain and fits for work.

3. Rest.—Man needs a certain amount of repose to sustain his frame in full vigor. Some need more, some need less. We must find out for ourselves what we need and take it. Lack of sleep is especially a great waste of vitality. Here also we must exercise our judgment as to the amount of sleep we require. One needs a great deal; another can do with very little. Early rising, which has been much recommended, is only good for those who go early to bed. If one is compelled to sit up late he should sleep late in the morning. It is no virtue on the part of anyone to get up early unless he has slept enough. That he must do if he is to have health. A man who would be a good worker must see to it that he is a good sleeper; and whoever, from any cause, is regularly diminishing his sleep is destroying his life. Shakespeare has well described the blessing of sleep when he says:

Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care, The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast.

These are but hints in connection with a great subject. A few brief rules may be given of a general character:

1. Take exercise every day in the open air if possible, and make it a recreation and not merely a duty.

2. Eat wholesome food, drink pure water.

3. Let your house and room be well ventilated.

4. Take time enough for sleep. Do not worry.

5. Watch yourself, but not too closely, to find out what exercise, air, diet, etc., agrees with you. No man can be a rule for another.

6. If you consult a physician, it is better to do it before you are unwell than later.[3]

We close this chapter with the powerful words of Thomas Carlyle, addressed to the students of the University of Edinburgh: "Finally, I have one advice to give you which is practically of very great importance. You are to consider throughout much more than is done at present, and what would have been a very great thing for me if I had been able to consider, that health is a thing to be attended to continually; that you are to regard it as the very highest of all temporal things. There is no kind of achievement you could make in the world that is equal to perfect health. What to it are nuggets or millions?"



[1] Frederic Harrison, Popular Science Monthly Supplement.

[2] Plain Living and High Thinking.

[3] These rules are given by J. Freeman Clarke in his work on Self-Culture.



CHAPTER IX.

EARNESTNESS.

Another word for earnestness is enthusiasm. The Scriptural equivalent is zeal. It means putting our whole heart into whatever we are doing. It is a sweeping, resistless energy, which carries everything before it, like a river in full flood. Its nature is well expressed in the saying of the old huntsman, "Throw over your heart, and your horse will soon follow."

Earnestness is not to be confounded with noise, vehemence, or outward demonstration.—It is often exceedingly quiet and undemonstrative. Notice when the machinery of an engine is standing still, how the steam makes a great noise as it issues from the safety-valve, but when the vapor is turned into the cylinder and is used in driving the engine all that thundering sound disappears. It does not follow that there is no steam. It is going in another direction, and doing its appropriate work. It is a great mistake to imagine that enthusiasm and what is called fuss are identical. The most enthusiastic men are often the quietest. No one can doubt the enthusiasm of a man like Livingstone. He had enthusiasm for science, for philanthropy and for religion. It was unflagging; yet not a boast, not a murmur escaped his lips. He did the thing he meant to do, and made no noise in doing it.

Earnestness is often regarded with suspicion and condemned.—It is the fashion with many to sneer at it. It is often alone, and then it is not respectable. It is often in excess, and is therefore ineffective. It is often disturbing to the sleepiness of others, and is therefore hated by them. Our Lord was an enthusiast in the eyes of the Pharisees. St. Paul was an enthusiast to Festus. The early Christians were enthusiasts to the pagan world because they turned it upside down. The martyrs and confessors of all times have been regarded as enthusiasts by those of their own time who were not in sympathy with them. An enthusiast is called by many a fanatic, and a fanatic in the eyes of some is a most dangerous member of society.

All the great leaders of the world have been men in earnest.—Emerson says truly that "every great and commanding movement in the annals of the world is the triumph of enthusiasm." Our civil and religious liberties we owe to enthusiasts for freedom. The enthusiasm of Columbus gave us America; the enthusiasm of Knox reformed Scotland; the enthusiasm of Wesley regenerated English religious life; the enthusiasm of men like Garibaldi and Cavour and Mazzini has made in our own time a new Italy. These men were all denounced in their day, cold water was thrown on all their projects, but their burning earnestness carried them on to triumph. The scorned enthusiast of one generation is the hero of the next.

Earnestness is a great element in securing success in life.—A well-known writer and preacher, Dr. Arnot, tells that he once heard the following conversation at a railway station between a farmer and the engineer of a train: "What are you waiting for so long? Have you no water?" "Oh, yes, we have plenty of water, but it is not boiling." So there may be abundance of intelligence and splendid machinery, and all the appliances that help to success, but what is wanted is intense boiling earnestness. We have a good illustration of the power of earnestness in speaking. One man may say the right thing, and say it in a pleasing and cultured manner; every phrase may be well placed, every sentence polished, every argument in its proper place. Another man may have no elegance of diction, his words may be unpolished, his sentences even ungrammatical, and yet he may move a great multitude, as the leaves of the trees are moved by the wind, through the intense earnestness and enthusiasm by which he is possessed. We see the same thing in Christian effort. The organization of a church may be perfect, its resources may be large, and it may have in its service an army of able and well-disciplined men; but without enthusiasm and burning zeal its efforts are powerless and come to nothing. When, as at Pentecost, the Holy Spirit descends upon a church in tongues of fire, then there is quickening, and souls are gathered in. No man has ever had a supreme influence over others without more or less enthusiasm in his nature.

There are three directions we may give in regard to earnestness or enthusiasm.

1. Respect it in others.—Do not join with those who regard it as something that is not respectable. It is always preferable to what is cold and formal. Life is better than death, and when there is life there is energy and earnestness. Even when enthusiasm takes forms that we cannot altogether approve of, it is worthy of respect. "Next to being Servetus who was burnt," said one, "I would have been Calvin who burnt him." That was a strong way of saying that zeal is a beautiful thing in itself, though "zeal that is not according to knowledge" is not good. We may not approve of many of the opinions and methods of Francis Xavier, the great missionary and saint of the Roman Church, but we cannot fail to admire his burning zeal in the cause of Christ, and look with something like awe on his high-souled devotion to the work of an evangelist. He was swept on by an enthusiasm that never failed, and which carried him over obstacles that would have daunted any ordinary man. The Puritans were denounced by many good people of their time, and the great preacher, Dr. South, delivered a sermon against them, entitled "Enthusiasts not led by the Spirit of God." But we all know how great the men were, and how great a work they did through the very enthusiasm that he condemned. "It is better," according to the proverb, "that the pot should boil over than not boil at all." The word enthusiasm literally means filled, or inspired, by God, and the meaning of the word may teach us how noble a thing enthusiasm is in itself, and how worthy it is of admiration and respect.

2. We should cultivate it in ourselves.—It is a virtue, like all others, that can be cultivated. (a) By resolutely setting our face against doing anything in a languid and half-hearted way. If a thing is worth doing, it should be done "with all our might." (b) By studying the lives of great men. When we do so we catch something of the earnestness that inspired them. This is perhaps the best result of reading biography. We feel how noble was the enthusiasm of the heroes of the past, and how, by means of it, they were able to do great things, and to march on to victory. (c) By associating with those who are in earnest. There is nothing so contagious as enthusiasm, and when we come in contact with those who live under the impulse of grand ideas, something of their force and power is conveyed to ourselves. The great soul strengthens the weak soul. While the solitary coal on the hearth will go black out, when it is heaped up with others it springs into a blaze.

O ever earnest sun! Unwearied in thy work, Unhalting in thy course, Unlingering in thy path, Teach me thy earnest ways, That mine may be a life of steadfast work and praise.

O ever earnest stars! Unchanging in your light, Unfaltering in your race, Unswerving in your round, Teach me your earnest ways, That mine may be a life of steadfast work and praise.

O ever earnest flowers! That with untiring growth Shoot up and spread abroad Your fragrance and your joy, Teach me your earnest ways, That mine may be a life of steadfast work and praise.

O ever earnest sea! Constant in flow and ebb, Heaving to moon and sun, Unchanging in thy change, Teach me thy earnest ways, That mine may be a life of steadfast work and praise. HORATIUS BONAR.

3. We should carry earnestness into our religious life.—This above all. There are many who tolerate earnestness in other things, but who look upon it as dangerous in connection with religion. It is regarded as of very questionable value, and spoken of with doubt and suspicion. Let a man become earnest in prayer, earnest in work, or rise in any way above the dead level in which so many are content to rest, and he will be often spoken of in tones of pity, sneered at as a fanatic, or denounced as an impostor. This suspicion with which earnestness in the Church of Christ is often regarded may be accounted for. (a) There has been a vast deal of zeal in the Church about religion which has not been zeal for religion: about matters of ritual, Church government, and the like. (b) Zeal has been often expended in contentions about small points of doctrine; often about those very points which are shrouded in mystery. (c) Zeal has been often manifested in the interest of sect and party rather than of Christ. (d) Zeal has often taken persecution for her ally, and wielded among men the weapons of earthly warfare. For these reasons its appearance in the Church is often regarded as we might regard the erection in a town of a gunpowder magazine which, at any moment, might produce disorder, ruin, and death.

Yet Scripture regards earnestness in religion as essential.—Indifference and lukewarmness it regards as hateful (Rev. iii. 15, 16). It calls us to a solemn choice and to a lifelong service. Its heroes are those who lived in the spirit of Brainerd's prayer, "Oh, that I were a flaming fire in the service of my God." There is an allegory of Luther which may be quoted here. "The devil," he says, "held a great anniversary, at which his emissaries were convened to report the results of their several missions. 'I let loose the wild beasts of the desert,' said one, 'on a caravan of Christians, and their bones are now bleaching on the sands.' 'What of that?' said the devil; 'their souls were all saved.' 'I drove the east wind,' said another, 'against a ship freighted with Christians, and they were all drowned.' 'What of that?' said the devil; 'their souls were all saved.' 'For ten years I tried to get a single Christian asleep,' said a third, 'and I succeeded, and left him so.' Then the devil shouted, and the night stars of hell sang for joy."

There are three spheres of religious life in which earnestness should be specially shown.

1. In prayer.—This is specially inculcated in the two parables of our Lord, the "unjust judge" and "the friend at midnight," and in His own words, "Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you." One, it is said, came to Demosthenes, the great orator, and asked him to plead his cause. He heard him without attention while he told his story without earnestness. The man saw this, and cried out anxiously that it was all true. "Ah!" said Demosthenes, "I believe you now." The earnest prayer is the prevailing prayer.

2. In sacrifice.—This is in all life the test of earnestness. The student giving up time for the acquisition of knowledge; the merchant giving up his hours to the pursuit of business; the explorer braving the heat of the tropics and the cold of the arctic regions in his zeal for discovery. It is the same in religion. We must count all things, with St. Paul, "as loss, that we may win Christ, and be found in Him."

3. In impressing others.—It is "out of the heart that the mouth speaketh," and power to impress others is given only to those who do so with a full heart, and who are consumed with a burning zeal for the salvation of souls. These are they whom God has, in all ages, blessed in the conversion of men.



CHAPTER X.

MANNERS.

The word manners comes from the Latin manus, the hand, and literally means the mode in which a thing is handled—behavior, deportment. Manners may be defined as the pleasing or unpleasing expression of our thoughts and intentions, whether in word or action. We may say or do a thing in an agreeable or a disagreeable way. According as we choose the one or the other, our manners may be said to be good or bad.

Good manners are the result of two things.—(a) Self-respect and (b) consideration for the feelings of others. The man who respects himself will be careful to say or do nothing that may seem to others degrading or unworthy. The man who has consideration for the feelings of others will be equally careful to do or say nothing that may give them pain, or be offensive to them.

Good manners beautify character.—It was a celebrated saying of an old bishop, William of Wykeham, "Manners maketh man." This is, however, only partially true. Manners do not make a man any more than good clothes make a man, but if he is made they greatly improve him. Some have been truly excellent who have had an uncouth and unpolished address, but that was rather to their disadvantage than otherwise. "Rough diamonds" are always precious, but a diamond that is cut and polished, while it retains its value, is much more beautiful. Civility of speech, politeness of address, courtesy in our dealings with others, are qualities that adorn a man, whilst rudeness, incivility, roughness in behavior, detract greatly from his value, and injure his usefulness. Tennyson's words are true:

Manners are not idle, but the fruit Of noble nature and of loyal mind.

Good manners tend greatly to success in life.—Coarseness and gruffness lock doors, gentleness and refinement open them, while the rude, boorish man is shunned by all. Take the case of a speaker addressing a public meeting. What he says is weighty and important. His arguments are powerful and well marshalled, but his speech is uncouth and disagreeable. He says things that are coarse and vulgar. His bad manner vastly takes away from the impression which he desires to make, and which, if his manner had been different, he would have made. Again, two young men serve in a place of business. The one is gentle in his demeanor, meets his customers with a pleasant smile, is always polite. The other is rough in his deportment, apparently does not care whether those he deals with are pleased or not. The one is a favorite with everybody; the other, who may be equally worthy as far as character is concerned, is disliked.

Good manners often disarm opposition.—People may have a prejudice against ourselves personally, or against the cause we represent. It is wonderful, however, how much may be done to soften them by habitual courtesy towards them, and by studiously avoiding anything calculated to offend them or rouse their anger. A wise man will always endeavor to be specially civil towards any one who differs from him. It is related that in the early days of the Abolition movement in the United States, two men went out preaching: one, a sage old Quaker, brave and calm; the other, a fervid young man. When the Quaker lectured, the audience were all attention, and his arguments met with very general concurrence. But when it came to the young man's turn, a tumult invariably ensued, and he was pelted off the platform. Surprised by their different receptions, the young man asked the Quaker the reason. "Friend," he said, "you and I are on the same mission; we preach the same things; how is it that while you are received so cordially, I get nothing but abuse?" "I will tell thee," replied the Quaker; "thee says, 'If you do so and so, you shall be punished,' and I say, 'My friends, if you will but do so and so, you shall not be punished.' It is not what we say, but how we say it." [1] In The Memorials of a Quiet Life it is said of Augustus Hare that, on a road along which he frequently passed, there was a workman employed in its repair who met his gentle questions and observations with gruff answers and sour looks. But as day after day the persevering mildness of his words and manner still continued, the rugged features of the man gave way, and his tone assumed a softer character. Politeness is the oiled key that will open many a rusty lock.

Good manners may be summed up in the one word, Gentleman.—That term implies all that good-manners ought to be. The original derivation of the word is from the Latin gentilis, belonging to a tribe or gens; and in its first signification it applies to those of noble descent or family; but it has come to mean something far wider, and something which every man, however humble, may be—a man of high courtesy and refinement, to whom dishonor is hateful. "What is it," says Thackeray, "to be a gentleman? It is to be honest, to be gentle, to be generous, to be brave, to be wise, and, possessing all these qualities, to exercise them in the most graceful outward manner." It was said of our Lord by one of the early English poets, that he was

The first true gentleman that ever breathed.

To be a gentleman in all circumstances is the highest idea we can form of good manners. It is what, in our intercourse with others, we should strive to be—to have "high thoughts," as Sir Philip Sidney expresses it, "seated in a heart of courtesy." In Bishop Patteson's life is given the estimate of him, as a true gentleman, by a New Zealand native: "Gentleman-gentleman thought nothing that ought to be done too mean for him. Pig-gentleman never worked." The savage knew by instinct that the good Bishop who came to live among them that he might teach them to be better, who treated them with invariable courtesy and consideration, was a true gentleman, though he had to clean his own hut, to cook his own food, and to mend his own kettles. And he knew also that the man who made others work for him without doing them any good in return, who swore at them and abused them, was only a pig-gentleman, however rich or high in station he might be.

A few advices on the subject of this chapter may be given.

1. Cultivate a pleasing manner.—Any one can be civil and polite if he sets himself to be so. Some suppose that it is unworthy of a robust character to be gentle in demeanor, that it indicates a certain amount of effeminacy, and that strength and gruffness go together. We hear men spoken of sometimes approvingly as "rough diamonds." But history tells us that the noblest and strongest have been the most tender and courteous. King Robert the Bruce was "brave as a lion, tender-hearted as a woman." "Sir Walter Raleigh was every inch a man, a brave soldier, a brilliant courtier, and yet a mirror of courtesy. Nobody would accuse Sir Philip Sidney of having been deficient in manliness, yet his fine manners were proverbial. It is the courtesy of Bayard, the knight, sans peur et sans reproche, which has immortalized him quite as much as his valor." [2] It is not beneath us to study good manners. To a great extent they come naturally from refinement of disposition and inborn delicacy of feeling. But they may also, to a great extent, be learned and acquired. "Watch," it has wisely been said, "those of excellent reputation in manners. Catch the temper of the great masters of literature—the nobility of Scott, the sincerity of Thackeray, the heartiness of Dickens, the tenderness of Macdonald, the delicacy of Tennyson, the grace of Longfellow, the repose of Shakespeare." It is well worth while for every young man beginning life to form a true idea of what good manners are, and to make it his constant effort to acquire them.

2. Avoid eccentricity.—Eccentricity is the deliberate endeavor to make ourselves different from those around us. (a) Some show it in their dress by wearing garments often of outrageous shape and hue. (b) Some show it in their speech by striving to say things that they think especially smart. (c) Some show it in their actions by striking forced attitudes, and putting themselves in grotesque positions. It all springs from love of notoriety and desire to be thought different from their neighbors. It is the mark, as a rule, of fops and fools, and an indication of weakness of character. It is fundamentally inconsistent with good manners. Johnson was called ursa major, or big bear, from the gruffness of his manner. This was probably natural to him, but many affect a similar manner from a desire to be eccentric. The "big bears" of society are odious. Johnson's own words are applicable to such: "A man has no more right to say an uncivil thing than to act one—no more right to say a rude thing to another than to knock him down." Those also who are ever trying to say things which they think smart, but which are often impudent, and meant to give annoyance, ought to receive no countenance. "Sir," said one such person in his Irish brogue to Dean Swift, "I sit (set) up for being a wit." "Then, sir," said the Dean, "I advise you to sit down." Similar people should be treated in the same way.

3. Try to conquer shyness.—This is constitutional with some, but even when this is the case it can be overcome by taking pains. The shy man is often awkward in manner; and, what is worse, he often gives the impression to others of being rude, when he has no intention to be so. There are those who, in their own family and among their own friends, are known to be warm-hearted, kind and gentle, but who, from this defect of which we speak, have a reputation far from enviable. Any young man who is afflicted with it should set himself resolutely to get the better of it.

4. We should be especially courteous to those below us in station.—To servants in our house, to those in our employ, to the poor, we should be marked in our civility. "It is the very essence of gentlemanhood that one is polite to the weak, the poor, the friendless, the humble, the miserable, the degraded." The conduct of our Lord to such is ever worthy of our imitation. Indeed, as it has been well remarked, the character of men and women is perhaps better known "by the treatment of those below them than by anything else; for to them they rarely play the hypocrite." The man who is a bully and abusive to those weaker or less fortunate than himself, is at heart a poor creature; though, in company of his equals, he may be affable and polished enough. For example, Kingsley mentions regarding Sir Sydney Smith that "the love he won was because, without any conscious intention, he treated rich and poor, his own servants, and the noblemen, his guests, alike courteously, cheerfully, considerately, affectionately, bearing a blessing and reaping a blessing wherever he was." When a celebrated man returned the salute of a negro, he was reminded that he had done what was very unfashionable. "Perhaps so," he replied, "but I would not be outdone in good manners by a negro."

"Good words," says holy George Herbert, "are worth much, and cost little." The same may be said of good manners.



[1] The Secret of Success.

[2] Plain Living and High Thinking.



CHAPTER XI.

TEMPER.[1]

Temper is the harmonious and well-balanced working of the different powers of the mind. Good temper is when harmony is maintained; bad temper when it is violated. "Temper," it was said by an English bishop, "is nine-tenths of Christianity." We may think this an exaggerated statement, but there is much to commend it. The fruit of the Spirit of God is peace, and peace is the condition of a heart which is at rest—in harmony with God and man. Peace may be taken as the Scriptural word for temper.

Good temper is a sign that the different powers of the soul are working in harmony.—For instance, the atmosphere is well tempered when it is neither too hot nor too cold, neither too dry nor too moist, having neither too much electricity nor too little. Then the weather is called fine. It is a pleasure to live. When the weather is bad, the balance of the elements is broken, and life is disagreeable and unpleasant. The body is well tempered when the nervous system and the blood and the nutritive system all work in due harmony. When these three great constituents of the body are well balanced against each other, the result is health. The body is not well tempered in a student who takes no exercise, and where everything goes to feed the brain; nor in a pugilist in training, where everything goes to feed the muscles. The result is disease. We all know the musical instrument called the harp. All the strings are tuned into perfect harmony. If there is a false note struck, that is a sign to the musician that there is something wrong, and that the instrument needs to be tuned. The discord is a symptom, that some cords are out of order. So, bad temper is a sign that some string in our moral constitution is out of harmony and needs to be tuned.

Good temper can be acquired.—It is the result of culture. There are two things often confounded with it—(a) good nature and (b) good humor. Good nature is something born with us—an easy, contented disposition, and a tendency to take things quietly and pleasantly. We inherit it. There is little merit in possessing it. Good humor is the result of pleasant surroundings and agreeable circumstances. A good-humored man is so when everything goes right; when things go wrong, his good humor departs and bad humor takes its place. But good temper results from training and self-control—keeping constant watch over our passions and feelings, and above all being in constant harmony with God; for he who is at peace with God is at peace with man, and will keep the "even tenor of his way."

There are various signs or forms of ill-temper that may be adverted to.

One form of ill-temper is irritability.—We perhaps know what it is to have a tooth where the nerve is exposed. Everything that touches it sends a thrill of pain through us. Some people get into a moral state corresponding to that. The least thing puts them out, vexes them, throws them into a disagreeable frame of mind. When one gets into that state, he should feel that there is something wrong with him—something is off the balance, some nerve is exposed. He had better look to it and go off to the dentist.

Another form of ill-temper is readiness to find fault.—This is a sure sign of a screw being loose somewhere. An ill-tempered person is always making grievances, imagining himself ill-used, discontented with his position, dissatisfied with his circumstances. He never blames himself for anything wrong; it is always someone else. He is like a workman who is always excusing himself by throwing the blame on his tools; like a bad driver who is always finding fault with his horses.

Some fretful tempers wince at every touch, You always do too little or too much; He shakes with cold; you stir the fire and strive To make a blaze; that's roasting him alive. Serve him with venison, and he chooses fish; With sole; that's just the sort he would not wish. Alas! his efforts double his distress, He likes yours little, and his own still less. Thus, always teasing others, always teased, His only pleasure is—to be displeased.

If we find ourselves getting into this state of mind, it is high time to inquire what is wrong with us.

Another form of ill-temper is passion.—Some people are very subject to this development. They are "gunpowdery," and when a small spark touches them they fly out, and there is a blaze. It is a very unlovely feature of a man's character, and if people in a passion could only see themselves in a glass, their eyes flashing, their brow contracted and their features distorted, they would feel that they have cause to be ashamed of themselves. After having been in what is called "a towering rage," there often comes to a man the feeling expressed in the words, "I have made a great ass of myself." If we have done so, we should resolve never to make ourselves ridiculous again.

Perhaps the worst form of ill-temper is sulkiness.—This is passion not dying out, but continuing to smoulder like the embers of a fire where there is no flame. A sullen disposition is as bad a sign of something being wrong as there could well be. It is like what the doctors call "suppressed gout." The disease has got driven into the system, and has taken so firm a hold that it cannot easily be dislodged. Better a man whose temper bubbles over and is gone, than the man who cherishes it in his bosom and allows, not the sun of one day, but of many days, to go down on his wrath.

A word or two is perhaps necessary, in addition to what has been said, as to the means by which good temper is to be preserved and bad temper avoided.

I. We should cherish a deep and strong detestation of the evil effects of bad temper in all its forms.—(a) It has a bad effect physically. It produces consequences injurious to health. The man who indulges in it habitually cannot do so with impunity. Doctors constantly warn their patients to refrain from irritating disputes, and to avoid men and things likely to provoke their anger. (b) It has a bad effect socially. The bad-tempered man is seldom a favorite with society. Men eventually dislike him and shun him as a nuisance. His family, if he has one, come to regard him with dread rather than love. (c) It has a bad effect as regards success in life. "Everything," the proverb says, "comes to him who waits." The patient and forbearing man attains his object much sooner than the man of passion and abuse. Such a person is continually thwarted in his plans. People refuse to be bullied into acquiescence; and threats, which have well been called "the arguments of a coward," raise rather than disarm opposition. (d) It has a bad effect spiritually. (1) The man of evil temper wants the calm disposition of soul necessary to communion with God. The glass through which he looks into the spiritual world is clouded and gives a distorted vision. He whose soul is filled with anger and clouded by passion cannot pray. Before he lays his gift upon the altar, he must be reconciled to his brother. (2) Scripture is full of warnings against evil temper: "He that is soon angry dealeth foolishly." "Make no friendship with an angry man, and with a furious man thou shalt not go, lest thou learn his ways and get a snare to thy soul." "An angry man stirreth up strife, and a furious man aboundeth in transgression." "Be ye angry and sin not; let not the sun go down upon your wrath." "Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamor, and evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice; and be ye kind one to another, tender hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you." The example of our blessed Lord specially teaches the same lessen. Calmly and peacefully He pursued His divine work. "When reviled he reviled not again, but committed himself to him that judgeth righteously." Before the High Priest, Pilate and Herod, His indignant silence was more eloquent than scorching words.

II. We should deliberately cultivate self-control.—If a railway train is going swiftly along, and the driver sees something on the track, he applies the brake, and thus avoids collision. In regard to temper, self-control is like the brake, and we should be ever ready to put it on. A person can come, in time, to get a wonderful control over his temper if he watches against it. The writer knew a young man who was at one time of an ungovernable temper; he used to be at times like "one possessed." But by watching and resolutely putting on the brake he grew up one of the sweetest-tempered and most lovable of men. He fought the wild beast within him, lashed it and kept it down. A merchant had passionately abused a Quaker, who received his outburst of ill-temper in silence. Being afterwards ashamed of himself, he asked the other how he was able to show such patience. "Friend," replied the Quaker, "I will tell thee. I was naturally as hot and violent as thou art. I knew that to indulge temper was sinful, and I found it was imprudent. I observed that men in a passion always spoke loud, and I thought if I could control my voice I should repress my passion. I have therefore made it a rule never to allow my voice to be above a certain key, and by a careful observance of this rule I have, by the blessing of God, mastered my natural temper." Strong resolution can do much. "If the pot boils," says the proverb, "take it off the fire." A little care, a word swallowed, a rising sentence struck down in us by a simple rule, may save us humiliation. "By reflection, by restraint and control a wise man can make himself an island which no floods can overwhelm. He who is tolerant with the intolerant, mild with the fault-finders, and free from passion with the passionate, him I indeed call a wise man."—Buddhist saying.

III. But while an act of self-control can restore the proper temper and balance to the mind when it is in danger, the best way is to keep it so that it will not go off the balance. You know that if a clock stops, we may perhaps make it go again by a shake; if it does not keep time, we can often put the hands right; but the best way is to keep the machinery always so well balanced and adjusted that it will not stop or go wrong. We may watch and control the temper when it breaks out; but the better way is to keep it so well balanced that it will not break out. The soul that is in harmony with God, that is full of the spirit of Christ, will ever be peaceful and serene. If ill-temper is our besetting sin, God's grace, if we ask it, will give us power to conquer it While we watch against it, we should pray against it also. The beautiful words of Thomas a Kempis point out to us the secret of the well-tempered and well-balanced mind: "First keep thyself in peace, and then thou wilt be able to bring others to peace." If "the peace of God which passeth all understanding" keep our hearts and minds, through Christ Jesus, our life will never have its serenity disturbed by ill-temper.



[1] I wish to acknowledge my indebtedness for some hints in this chapter to an interesting work on "Self-Culture," by James Freeman Clarke.



CHAPTER XII.

RECREATION.

Recreation is another name for amusement. Both words express the same idea. Recreation means to create over again, the building up of the system when it is exhausted. Amusement primarily is said to be derived from the halt which a dog makes in hunting, when he pauses to sniff the air in order to see in which way the scent lies. Having done this, he starts off again with redoubled speed. Both these words in themselves suggest the place that the things which they signify should occupy in life. They are for the refreshing of our strength, in order to renewed effort.

Recreation is a necessary part of life.—There are two great laws under which we live: the law of work and the law of recreation. Man has to work, and to work hard, in order to live. Work also is necessary to happiness. "He that labors," says the Italian proverb, "is tempted by one devil; he that is idle, by a thousand." The industrious life, it is perfectly plain (as we have shown in a previous chapter), is that which we should all follow. But recreation is as needful in its place as work. (a) This is the teaching of nature. God has made us capable of enjoying ourselves, just as He has made us able to think, or talk, or work with our hands. The first sign of intelligence in the infant is a smile. The child's nature unfolds itself in play, and as man grows up, it develops itself in many forms. The universe also is full of joy and gladness. The sky is blue, the sea glistens, the flowers are strewn over the earth. We speak of the waves playing on the shore, of the shadows playing on the mountain side. All this indicates that there is "a certain play element" that rejoices in the world around us. (b) This is the teaching of experience. Unvaried and unbroken toil becomes a sore burden; it breaks the spirit, weakens energy, and saddens the heart. "All work and no play," according to the proverb, "makes Jack a dull boy." There are men around us working so hard that they have no family life, no social life, no time for thought or for culture. They are simply cogs in a great wheel that is ceaselessly turning round and round—wearing themselves out before their time by excess of labor. This cannot be right. There is an interesting tradition of St. John, the disciple of our Lord, that while amusing himself with a tame partridge he was asked by a huntsman how he could spend his time in so unprofitable a manner. St. John replied, "Why dost thou not carry thy bow always bent?" "Because," answered the huntsman, "if it were always bent, I fear it would lose its spring and become useless." "Be not surprised then," replied the apostle, "that I should sometimes remit a little of my close attention of spirit to enjoy a little recreation, that I may afterwards employ myself more fervently in divine contemplation." It is said also of a most saintly man, Carlo Borromeo, that while engaged with some friends in a game of chess, the question was started, what they would do if they knew they were to die within the hour. "I would," said Borromeo, "go on with my game." He had begun it for God's glory, and in order to fit himself for God's work, and he would finish it. These anecdotes illustrate the truth that recreation is a necessary part of life, and may be engaged in with the highest object.

Recreation, therefore, is not to be regarded as an evil in itself—Men at different times have so regarded it. (a) Those who have been termed ascetics in the Church of Rome looked upon every form of amusement as sinful. Even to smile or laugh was a fault needing severe penance. They were "cruel to themselves," denied themselves all earthly joy, and placed vice and pleasure in the same category. (b) The Puritans also, in the time of the Stuarts, set their faces strongly against games and recreation of every kind. They denounced all public amusements, as Macaulay tells us, "from masques, which were exhibited at the mansions of the great, down to the wrestling matches and quoiting matches on the village green." (c) In all ages there have been good men animated by the same feeling. Life has seemed to them so serious as to have no place in it for mirth. Even one so saintly as Archbishop Leighton said that "pleasures are like mushrooms—it is so difficult to distinguish those that are wholesome from those that are poisonous, that it is better to abstain from them altogether." Those views have something noble in them. They spring from hatred of sin and from realizing intensely that

Recreation is liable to abuse.—It often leads to evil. It was the unbridled gaiety of the age, with its selfishness and sensuality, that made the Puritans denounce amusement, though the austerity they enforced led to dreadful consequences. Repression passed into excess. "It was as if the pent-up sewerage of a mud volcano had been suddenly let loose. The unclean spirit forcibly driven out by the Puritans returned with seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and the last state of Stuart England was worst than the first." The history of that period shows us the mistake religion makes by frowning down all amusements as sinful. But that some may be so is equally clear. They are so (a) when they are contrary to the express commands of the Word of God. There are pleasures which are in themselves unlawful, and which are condemned by the divine law. These, God's children will shun. They are forms of wickedness which they will ever hold in abhorrence. "The lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life," with all that the words mean, though the world may regard them as pleasures, and engage in them as amusements, are evil before God. But not to dwell on this, which is evident, amusements are evil (b) when they unfit for work. "The end of labor," said the Greek philosopher Aristotle, "is to rest." It is equally true that "the end of rest is to labor." Pleasures that tempt us from daily duty, that leave us listless and weary, are pernicious. Outdoor games, for instance, ought to strengthen the physical frame, they ought to make us healthy and strong and ready for work. But when carried to excess they often produce the opposite result, and become positively hurtful. If the Saturday's play unfit for the worship and rest of the Lord's day; if an employer, as has been stated, has been obliged to dismiss his clerks more than once because of their incapacity for work owing to football matches, cricket matches, and sports generally, it is clear that these have not been for their good; and the same may be said of the effect of other forms of amusement, especially when carried to excess. The amusements that send us back to toil with a lightened heart and a vigorous mind are those only that we should engage in; all others are detrimental, and should be shunned. (c) It is necessary to say also that amusement in any form followed as the end of life becomes specially sinful. Even the heathen moralist, Cicero, could say "that he is not worthy to be called a man who is willing to spend a single day wholly in pleasure." How much more truly may a Christian feel that he "who liveth in pleasure is dead while he liveth." A life that is simply play, that is simply amusement, is no life at all. It is only a contemptible form of existence. "A soul sodden with pleasure" is a lost soul. To be a mere pleasure-seeker is not the chief end of man. Nothing grows more wearying than continuous amusement, and no one needs amusement so much as he who is always at it. He loses the power of real enjoyment. He has, like Esau, bartered his birthright for a mess of pottage. He is useless to man and guilty before God.

It is not easy to lay down distinct and definite rules in regard to recreation—to set down and catalogue those amusements which it is safe for us to follow, and those from which we should refrain. This has been attempted, but not successfully! and the reason is evident. What may be safe for one person may not be safe for another. If we are told that an amusement has been held to be wrong, we are ready to reply that the mere opinion of others is not binding upon us; and perhaps in our contempt for views which appear to us bigoted and straitlaced, we rush into the opposite extreme. The true guide in recreation is a Christian spirit. He who possesses it will need no list of what are lawful and unlawful made out for him. He will be better guided than by any carefully compiled code of duty set before him. All, therefore, that shall be attempted in this direction is to give a few general counsels which may be serviceable.

1. We should exercise our own judgment as to what amusements are helpful or the reverse. It has been said, "When you are in Rome, do as the Romans do." We would rather put the adage thus, "When you are in Rome, do not as the Romans do." There are questions which majorities may decide for us, and there are questions which every soul must decide for itself. That everybody goes to bull-fights in Spain does not make bull-fighting right; neither is an amusement right because it is popular. In this, as in other matters, we must dare sometimes to be singular. Follow not a multitude to do evil.

2. What is one man's meat is another man's poison. We are not a law to our neighbor, neither is our neighbor a law to us. The amusement that we find injures us, lowers our moral and spiritual tone, and unfits us for the serious business of life, is the thing for us to avoid, as we avoid food which some men can take with impunity, but which does harm to us.

3. Keep on the safe ground of certainty. Whatever is doubtful is dangerous, and had best be left alone. If we go skating, and have a suspicion that the ice in a certain spot is weak, that is sufficient to make us avoid it. Possibly we might pass over it without danger, but the thought that it may be dangerous leads us to give it a wide berth. "If you do not wish to hear the bell ring," says the proverb, "keep away from the bell rope." There is a sufficiency of amusements which are beyond doubt safe and satisfying, without our trying those that may be dangerous. The best recreation often comes from change of occupation, and there is none better than the companionship of books, the sweet solace of music, the softening influence of art, or the contemplation of the beauties of nature, "the melody of woods and winds and waters." There are fountains of joy open on every side of us, from which we may quaff many an invigorating draught, without drinking from those which are often poisoned and polluted.

4. The pleasure that is more congenial than our work is to be taken with caution. So long as a man enjoys his work more than his amusement, the latter is for him comparatively safe. It is a relaxation and refreshment, and he goes from it all the better for it; but if a man likes his pleasure better than the duties to which God has called him in the world, it is a sign that he has not realized, as he ought to realize, the object for which life was given him.

5. For the question, What is the harm? substitute, What is the good? The former is that which many ask in regard to amusements, and the very asking of the question shows that they feel doubtful about them and should avoid them. But when we ask, What is the good? it is a sign that we are anxious to know what benefit we may derive from them, and how far they may help us. That is the true spirit in which we should approach our amusements, seeking out those that recruit and refresh us mentally, morally, and physically.

Those are hints[1] which may be found useful. "Religion never was designed," it is said, "to make our pleasures less." Religion also, if we know what it means, will ever lead us to what are true, innocent, and elevating pleasures, and keep us from those that are false, bad in their influence, and which "leave a sting behind them." "Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart and in the sight of thine eyes: but know thou, that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment." Let those who practise the first part of that text not forget the second.



[1] I am indebted for some of them to an article in The Christian Union.



CHAPTER XIII.

BOOKS.

Books have an influence on life and conduct the extent of which it is impossible to estimate. "The precepts they inculcate, the lessons they exhibit, the ideals of life and character which they portray, root themselves in the thoughts and imaginations of young men. They seize them with a force which, in after years, appears scarcely possible." These words of Principal Tulloch will not appear too strong to any one who can look back over a long period of life. Such must ever feel that books have had a powerful effect in making them all that they are. There are many considerations that go to show the importance of books.

Books are the accumulated treasures of generations.—They are to man what memory is to the individual. If all the libraries in the world were burned and all the books in the world destroyed, the past would be little more than a blank. It would be a calamity corresponding to that of a man losing by a stroke the memory of past years. The literature of the world is the world's memory, the world's experience, the world's failures. It teaches us where we came from. It tells us of the paths we have travelled. Almost all we know of the history of this world in which God has placed us we know from books. "In books," as Carlyle says, "lie the creative Phoenix ashes of the whole past—all that men have desired, discovered, done, felt, or imagined, lie recorded in books, wherein whoso has learned the mystery of spelling printed letters may find it and appropriate it."

Books open to us a society from which otherwise we would be excluded.—They introduce us into a great human company. They enable us, however humble we may be, to hold converse with the great and good of past ages and of the present time—the great philosophers, philanthropists, poets, divines, travellers. We know their thoughts, we hear their words, we clasp their hands. The chamber of the solitary student is peopled with immortal guests. He has friends who are always steadfast, who are never false, who are silent when he is weary, who go forth with him to his work, who await his return. In the literature of the world a grand society is open to all who choose to enter it.

Books are the chief food of our intellectual life.—There are men that have, indeed, done great things who have read but little. These have had their want of mental training compensated by their powers of observation and experience of life. But they have been for the most part exceptional men, and it is possible they might have done better if they had studied more. To the great majority of men books are the great teachers, the chief ministers to self-culture. Books in a special manner represent intellect to those who can appreciate them. We cannot estimate in this aspect their importance. They are in regard to self-culture what Montaigne calls "the best viaticum for the journey of life." When we think of what we owe to them, we may enter into the feelings of Charles Lamb, who "wished to ask a grace before reading more than a grace before meat."

In regard to books, the practical questions that present themselves are, what we should read, and how we should read. The first question cannot be answered in any definite manner. (a) The enormous number of books in the world forbids this. Let any one enter a library of even moderate size, and he will feel how almost hopeless it would be, even if it were profitable, to draw out a practicable list of what may be advantageously chosen for reading and what may well be cast aside. (b) Still more does the infinite variety of tastes, circumstances: and talents, forbid the laying down of definite rules. Reading that might be profitable for one might not be so for another. Reading that would be pleasant to one would be to another weariness. Every class of mind seeks naturally its own proper food, and the choice of books must ultimately depend upon a man's own bias—on his natural bent and the necessities of his life. There are, however, one or two directions that may be given, and which may be profitable to young men.

First, We should read, as far as possible, the great books of the world. In the kingdom of literature there are certain works that stand by themselves and tower in their grandeur above all others. They are referred to by Bacon, in his weighty way, when he says: "Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, some few to be chewed and digested." This last class of books may be still spoken of as few. Various lists have lately been published of the best hundred books, according to the opinion of some of the greatest men of our time. There is considerable agreement among the writers as to what they consider the best books, and there is considerable difference also. It is easy to see how those who compiled these lists have been largely influenced in making their selection by their own peculiar tastes and fancies. Probably there is not one of their lists which any young man would care to follow out in its entirety. We give elsewhere the one which seems most likely to be useful to those into whose hands this text-book may probably come,[1] though it is evident that many young men might profitably leave out some of the books mentioned and substitute others. Still one thing is clear, that it is possible to make a selection of outstanding works in literature. After consultation with others better informed than himself, a young man can make a list suitable to his capacities and tastes, of books that really are great books, and in this way he may acquire knowledge that is worth having, and which will furnish a good and solid foundation for his intellectual culture. It is with books of this kind that he should begin, and a few such books thoroughly mastered will probably do him more good than all others that he may afterwards read.

It is hardly necessary to say that there is one book that may be termed specially great, and which all young men should make the special subject of their study. (a) The Bible, even as a means of intellectual culture, stands alone and above all others. "In the poorest cottages," says Carlyle, "is one book wherein for several thousands of years the spirit of man has found light and nourishment, and an interpreting response to whatever is deepest in him." No man can be regarded as an educated man unless he is familiar with this book. To understand its history and position in the world is in itself a liberal education. Those who have been indifferent to its spiritual power and divine claims have acknowledged its great importance in regard to self-culture. "Take the Bible," says Professor Huxley, "as a whole, make the severest deductions which fair criticism can dictate for shortcomings and for positive errors, and there still remains in this old literature a vast residuum of moral beauty and grandeur; and then consider the great historical fact that for three centuries this book has been woven into the life of all that is best and noblest in English history; that it has become the national epic of Britain, and is familiar to noble and simple from John o' Groat's house to Land's End; that it is written in the noblest and purest English, and abounds in exquisite beauties of a mere literary form; and finally, that it forbids the merest hind who never left his village to be ignorant of the existence of other countries and other civilizations, and of a great past, stretching back to the furthest limits of the oldest nations of the world. By the study of what other book could children be so much humanized?" In these words we have a noble tribute to the intellectual greatness of the Bible. (b) But it has other claims upon us than its power to stimulate mental culture. It is inspired by God. "It is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness." It is man's guide through the perplexities of life to the glory of heaven, "Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way? By taking heed thereto according to thy word."

Read then the great books of the world, and this book, the greatest of all.

Second, Another suggestion that we may make in regard to the use of books is that we should read from some centre or standpoint. A person takes a house in the country. This he makes the centre of many excursions. One day he climbs the mountain, another day he walks by winding stream, on another he sails along the shore. In this way he explores the surrounding country by degrees, coming back each night to the place he started from. We may do much the same thing with profit in our excursions among books. For instance, we may take the starting-point of our profession, and read all we can in regard to it. A farmer should read about farming, a lawyer about law, a divine about theology. Or we may take the starting-point of our physical frame, and read steadily all we can as to our bodily organisation and its laws; or we may take as our starting point the land we dwell in, or even the locality where we live, and seek to learn all we can regarding its history. In this way distinct lines of study are opened up to us, and we are saved the evil of desultory reading, which too often fills the mind only with a jumble of facts undigested and unarranged, and therefore of but little value. The writer knew a young minister in a Scottish manse who had among the few books in his library the Encyclopaedia Britannica. In this work he took up distinct courses of reading—a course of biography, a course of history, a course of geography—and in this way he acquired knowledge well systematized, which was of great value to him in his after life. We should endeavor, according to some such method as we have indicated, to carry on our reading. "Every man and every woman who can read at all should adopt some definite purpose in their reading, should take something for the main stem and trunk of their culture, whence branches might grow out in all directions, seeking air and light for the parent tree, which it is hoped might end in becoming something useful and ornamental, and which at any rate all along will have had life and growth in it." These words of Sir Arthur Helps put very tersely the point on which we have been insisting.

Third, We should read books on the same principle as we associate with men. We only admit to our society those whom we deem worthy of our acquaintance, and from whose intercourse we are likely to derive benefit. We should do the same in regards to books. There are people who read books which, if they took to themselves bodily form and became personified, would be kicked out of their houses. Readers often associate in literature with what is vile and contemptible, who would never think of associating with people possessing a similar character. Yet the society of a weak or bad book is just as harmful to us in its way, and should be as little tolerated by us as the society of a weak or bad man. Indeed, between an author and a careful reader there is an intimacy established even closer than is possible in the intercourse of life, and evil books poison the springs of thought and feeling much more thoroughly than an evil acquaintanceship could do. We cannot be too strict, therefore, in applying to books the rules we follow in regard to society, and refusing our acquaintance to those books unworthy of it. (a) Such books may be known by reputation. We would not associate with a man of bad reputation, neither should we read a book of which the reputation is evil. (b) They may be judged of also by very slight experience. Very little tells us whether a man is worthy to be admitted to companionship, and very slight acquaintance with a book is sufficient to tell us whether it is worth reading. (c) But especially by beginning with those great authors that are beyond doubt high toned, "the master-spirits of all time," we shall acquire a power of discrimination. We shall no more care to read foul, impure, and unwholesome literature than a man brought up in the society of honorable men would choose to cast in his lot with thieves and blacklegs and the offscourings of society.

We have anticipated much that might be said in answer to the question how to read, and only a few words need be written in regard to it. (1) Read with interest. Unless a book interests us we do not attend to it, we get no benefit whatever from it, and may as well throw it aside. (2) Read actively, not passively, putting the book under cross-examination as we go along—asking questions regarding it, weighing arguments. Mere passive reading may do no more good than the stream does to the iron pipe through which it flows. Novel-readers are often mere passive recipients of the stories, and thus get no real benefit from them. (3) Read according to some system or method. (4) Read not always for relaxation, recreation, and amusement, but chiefly to enable you to perform the duties to which God has called you in daily life.



[1] See Appendix.



CHAPTER XIV.

FAMILY LIFE.

The words Family—Home—Household—all express one idea. They imply a relationship existing between certain individuals, a circle or sphere separate from the mass of human beings, within which there are special duties to be performed and a special life has to be lived. It is not necessary to define particularly what is meant by the word Family, for it is well understood by all of us.

Family life is peculiar to man.—The lower animals have nothing in all respects resembling it. In some particulars their mode of life occasionally approaches it, but not in all. The birds of the air, for instance, care tenderly for their offspring, but when these come to maturity the relation between them and their parents comes to an end. The family relation on the other hand lasts through life, and is only broken by the hand of death, if even then. The family has been instituted by God for the welfare of man. The condition in which we come into the world requires it—our training for the work of life demands it—it is specially adapted to promote the great ends of human existence.

Family life is that which most truly leaves its mark upon us.—In the family habits are formed which make us what we are for the rest of our life. Home influences accompany us to the very end of our journey. Let any one ask himself what are the chief sources of his virtues, and he will feel that a large proportion of them are derived directly or indirectly from association with his fellow-creatures in the family. The training of parents, the affection and influence of mothers and sisters, powerfully and lastingly affect our intellectual and moral nature. From a wise father we learn more than from all our teachers. When a celebrated artist, Benjamin West, was asked "What made him a painter?" his reply was, "It was my mother's kiss." "I should have been an atheist," said a great American statesman, "if it had not been for one recollection, and that was the memory of the time when my departed mother used to take my little hand in hers, and caused me on my knees to say, 'Our Father, who art in heaven.'" On the other hand, those who have been so unfortunate as to have had an unhappy home rarely emancipate themselves from the evil effects of their upbringing. If they do, it is after the severest struggle. "The child," it has been said, "is the father of the man," and it is in the family the child receives his first impressions for good or for evil. The world he first lives in is his home.

Family life supplies a great test of character.—When Whitefield was asked whether a certain person was a Christian, he replied, "I do not know. I have never seen him at home." People are often one thing in the world and another in their own family. In the close intercourse of the home circle they exhibit themselves in their true colors. A man who is a good son or a good brother is generally found to be a good man. If he is a source of evil in his own home, in his intercourse with the world he will, sooner or later, be found wanting.

It is beyond the scope of this book to dwell at length upon the duties incumbent on the various members of a family. It may be sufficient to indicate generally the feelings which should animate the young persons who belong to it. Probably most of those into whose hands this manual will come are members of a family. What should therefore be their conduct at home is a question that well deserves their consideration.

1. Obedience is the fundamental principle of family life. Every family has a head, and that head must rule. "Order is heaven's first law." Where there is no obedience there can be no order in a family. The first form of authority which is placed before the child is that of the parent, and to the parent he has to be subject. "Children," says the apostle, "obey your parents in all things, for this is well pleasing unto the Lord." Even for those members of a family who have grown out of the state of childhood obedience must be the rule, though in their case it is not to be, as in the case of the child, unquestioning obedience, but is to be founded on reason, affection and gratitude. With them obedience takes the form of reverence, or, to use a more familiar word, respect. The child is bound to obey his parent without hesitation or reply; the young man who has entered into greater liberty than the child will still respect his parents' wishes and cherish reverence for their authority. This feeling on his part is termed in the Scriptures Honor. "Honor thy father and thy mother" is one of the Ten Commandments, and can never cease to be included among moral and religious obligations. It is opposed to everything like unseemly familiarity, discourtesy of treatment, insolence in reply, or deliberate defiance. It implies respect for age and experience, and a sense of the great sacrifices a parent has made for his children's welfare. It is said that in our time the bonds of parental authority are being loosened, and that young men do not regard their parents with the deference that once was invariably shown towards them; that they do little to smooth the path of life for them when they grow old and weak, and are more ready to cast them on the public charity than to contribute to their support. Such a state of things would be shameful, if true. It would indicate a corruption of social life at the fountain-head that must lead to serious consequences. The family is the nursery both of the State and of the Church, and where the purity and well-being of family life is impaired, both State and Church are sure to suffer. There should be therefore an earnest and prayerful endeavor upon the part of the young to cherish towards their parents that loving sense of their superiority which is implied in the word Honor. "Let them learn first," says St. Paul (1 Tim. v. 4), "to show piety at home, and to requite their parents; for that is good and acceptable before God." There can be no more pleasing memory for a young man to have than this, that he has been a dutiful son; none more bitter than this, that he has set at defiance, or neglected, those to whom he owes so much.

2. Affection is the atmosphere that should pervade the household. "Without hearts," it has been truly said, "there is no home." A collection of roots, and trunk, and branches, and leaves, do not make a tree; neither do a number of people dwelling together make a home. "A certain number of animal lives that are of prescribed ages, that eat and drink together, by no means makes a family. Almost as well might we say that it is the bricks of a house that make a home. There may be a home in the forest or in the wilderness, and there may be a family with all its blessings, though half its members be in other lands or in another world. It is the gentle memories, the mutual thought, the desire to bless, the sympathies that meet when duties are apart, the fervor of the parents' prayers, the persuasion of filial love, the sister's pride and the brother's benediction, that constitute the true elements of domestic life and sanctify the dwelling." [1] These beautiful words are true. It is love that makes home. The dweller, in a distant land sends again and again his thoughts across the sea, and reverts with fond affection to the place of his birth. It may be a humble cottage, but to him it is ever dear because of the love which dwelt there and united those who dwelt there by ties that distance cannot sever. Even the prodigal in the matchless parable of our Lord, herding with the swine and eating of their husks, was led to a higher and a better life by the remembrance of his father's house. A home without love is no home, any more than a body without a soul is a man. It is only a corpse.

3. Consideration for those with whom we live in the family is the chief form which affection takes. Each member has to remember, not his own comfort and wants, but the comfort and wants of those with whom he dwells. His welfare as an individual he must subordinate to the welfare of the household. There are various forms which want of consideration takes, and all of them are detestable. (a) Tyranny, where the strong member of a family insists on the service of those weaker than himself. (b) Greed, where one demands a larger share of comfort, food, or attention than that which falls to the others. (c) Indolence, where one refuses to take his proper part in the maintenance of the family, spending his wages, perhaps, on his own pleasures, and yet expecting to be provided for by the labor of the rest. (d) Discourtesy, where, by his language and manners, he makes the others unhappy, and, perhaps, by his outbursts of temper fills the whole house with sadness. (e) Obstinacy, which will have its own way, whether the way be good or not. All these forms of selfishness are violations of the true law of family life, and render that life impossible. In the family, more than in any other sphere, everyone should bear the burdens of others. Everyone should seek, not his own, but another's welfare, and the weak and feeble should receive the attention of all.

4. Pleasantness should be the disposition which we should specially cultivate at home. If we have to encounter things that annoy and perhaps irritate us in the outer world, we should seek to leave the irritation and annoyance behind when we cross the threshold of our dwelling. Into it the roughness and bluster of the world should never be permitted to come. It should be the place of "sweetness and light," and every member may do something to make it so. It is a bad sign when a young man never cares to spend his evenings at home—when he prefers the company of others to the society of his family, and seeks his amusement wholly beyond its circle. There is something wrong when this is the case. "I beseech you," said one addressing youth, "not to turn home into a restaurant and a sleeping bunk, spending all your leisure somewhere else, and going home only when all other places are shut up." A young man, it is admitted, may find his home uninviting through causes for which he has not himself to blame. Still, even then he may do much to change its character, and by his pleasant and cheerful bearing may bring into it sunshine brighter than the sunshine outside.

5. The highest family life is that consecrated by Religion. The household where God is acknowledged, from which the members go regularly together to the house of God, within whose walls is heard the voice of prayer and praise, is the ideal Christian family. In such a family the father is the priest, daily offering up prayers for those whom God has given him, at the family altar. He makes it his duty, and regards it as his privilege to bring up his children in "the nurture and admonition of the Lord," and by personal example and teaching to train them up as members of the household of faith. Unlike those who leave the religious instruction of their children entirely to others, he loves to teach them himself. A household thus pervaded by a Christian atmosphere is a scene of sweet and tender beauty. Such a household is well depicted by our Scottish poet, Robert Burns, in his "Cotter's Saturday Night." There we see how beautiful family life may be in the humblest dwelling.

From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, That makes her lov'd abroad, rever'd at home.



[1] Dr. James Martineau.



CHAPTER XV.

CHURCH.[1]

The word church is derived from the Greek word Kuriakon, the Lord's (from Kurios, the Lord), and it has various significations. (a) Sometimes it means the whole body of believers on earth—"the company of the faithful throughout the world"—"the number of the elect that have been, are, and shall be gathered into one, under Christ the Head thereof; and is the spouse, the body and the fulness of Him that filleth all in all." [2] (b) Sometimes it is applied to a body of Christians differing from the rest in their constitution, doctrines, and usages; as, for example, the Church of Rome, the Greek Church, the Reformed Church. (c) Sometimes it refers to the Christian community of a country or its established religion, as when we speak of the Gallican Church, the Swiss Church, the Church of England, the Church of Scotland. (d) It is used in a still more limited sense to represent a particular congregation of Christians who associate together and participate in the ordinances of Christianity, with their proper pastors or ministers. (e) It is applied also to the building in which the public ministrations of religion are conducted, as when we speak of the church in such a street, St. James' church, St. Peter's church, etc.

In this chapter we use the word church in the fourth sense, as representing a particular congregation of Christians. To such a community every young man should belong, and in connection with it he is called to discharge certain special duties. There are four aspects in which the life of the Church, in this sense, may be regarded.

I. It represents Christian worship.—(a) Public worship seems essential to the very existence of religion. At least, every religion the world has seen has had its meetings for public rites and ceremonies. Faith unsupported by sympathy, as a rule, languishes and dies out in a community. Were our churches to be shut Sunday after Sunday, and men never to meet together as religious beings, it would be as though the reservoir that supplies a great city with water suddenly ran dry. Here and there a few might draw water from their own wells, but the general result would be appalling. (b) Public worship also strengthens and deepens religious feeling. A man can pray alone and praise God alone; but he is, beyond all doubt, helped when he does so in the company of others. He is helped by the conditions of time and place; and the presence and sympathy of his fellow-worshippers have upon him a mighty uplifting influence. (c) Above all, public worship is the channel through which we receive special blessings from God. There is communion in the sanctuary between us and Him. "The true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth, for the Father seeketh such to worship him." God desires our worship, and blesses it to us. That He does so has been the experience of Christians in all ages. They have found in the house and worship of God a strength and power that supported and blessed their life. They have realized that the promise of Christ is still fulfilled, "Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them." (Matt. xviii. 20.)

II. The Church represents Christian teaching.—In the congregation the Word of God is read and preached. (a) Preaching has always formed part of the service of the Christian Church from the very earliest times. In the second century Justin Martyr says: "On the day called Sunday, all who live in the cities or in the country gather into one place, and the memoirs of the apostles and the writings of the prophets are read as time permits; then when the reader has ceased, the president verbally instructs and exhorts to the imitation of these good things." This description of an early Christian service is applicable still. Wherever the Church meets there is religious teaching. (b) And it is the only such teaching that multitudes receive. Without it they would be left to grope their way alone. (c) Whenever, therefore, there has been a revival of life in the Church, great stress has been laid upon the preaching of the Word of God, and God has specially blessed it to the conversion of sinners and the edification of His people.