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STAND BY THE SHIP

"Do, grandmother, tell us about the little drummer boy whose motto was, 'Stand by the ship.'"

"Grandmother is not used to telling children stories; but, if you will be quiet, she will try." And this is the story she told us:—

During one of the fiercest battles of the civil war, the colonel of a Michigan regiment noticed a very small boy, acting as drummer.

The great coolness and self-possession of the boy, as displayed during the engagement; his habitual reserve, so singular in one of his years; his orderly conduct, and his fond devotion to his drum (his only companion, except a few well-worn books),—all these things unusual in one so young had attracted notice, both from the officers and the men. Colonel B.'s curiosity was aroused, and he desired to know more of him. So he ordered that the boy should be sent to his tent.

The little fellow came, his drum on his breast, and the sticks in his hands. He paused before the colonel and made his best military salute. He was a noble looking boy, the sunburnt tint of his face in good keeping with his dark, crisp curls.

But strangely out of keeping with the rounded cheeks and dimpled chin, was the look of gravity and thoughtfulness, in the serious, childish eyes. He was a boy, who seemed to have been prematurely taught the self-reliance of a man. A strange thrill went through Colonel B.'s heart as the boy stood before him.

"Come forward, I wish to talk to you." The boy stepped forward, showing no surprise under the novel position in which he found himself. "I was very much pleased with your conduct yesterday," said the colonel, "from the fact that you are so young and small for your position."

"Thank you, colonel; I only did my duty; I am big enough for that, if I am small," replied the noble little fellow.

"Were you not very much frightened when the battle began?" questioned Colonel B.

"I might have been, if I had let myself think of it; but I kept my mind on my drum. I went in to play for the men; it was that I volunteered for. So I said to myself: 'Don't trouble yourself about what doesn't concern you, Jack, but do your duty, and stand by the ship.'"

"Why, that is sailors' talk," said the colonel.

"It is a very good saying, if it is, sir," said Jack.

"I see you understand the meaning of it. Let that rule guide you through life, and you will gain the respect of all good men."

"Father Jack told me that, when he taught me to say, 'Stand by the ship.'"

"He was your father?"

"No, sir,—I never had a father,—but he brought me up."

"Strange," said the colonel, musing, "how much I feel like befriending this child. Tell me your story, Jack."

"I will tell it, sir, as near as I can, as Father Jack told it to me.

"My mother sailed on a merchant ship from France to Baltimore, where my father was living. A great storm arose; the ship was driven on rocks, where she split, and all hands had to take to the boats. They gave themselves up for lost; but at last a ship bound for Liverpool took them up. They had lost everything but the clothes they had on; but the captain was very kind to them; he gave them clothes, and some money.

"My mother refused to remain at Liverpool, though she was quite sick, for she wanted to get to this country so badly; so she took passage in another merchant ship, just going to New York. She was the only woman on board. She grew worse after the ship sailed; the sailors took care of her. Father Jack was a sailor on this ship, and he pitied her very much, and he did all he could for her. But she died and left me, an infant.

"Nobody knew what to do with me; they all said I would die—all but Father Jack; he asked the doctor to give me to him. The doctor said:—

"'Let him try his hand, if he has a mind to; it's no use, the little one will be sure to go overboard after it's mother;' but the doctor was wrong.

"I was brought safe to New York. He tried to find my father, but did not know how to do it, for no one knew my mother's name. At last he left me with a family in New York, and he went to sea again; but he never could find out anything about my mother, although he inquired in Liverpool and elsewhere. The last time he went to sea, I was nine years old, and he gave me a present on my birthday, the day before he sailed. It was the last; he never came back again; he died of ship fever.

"But Father Jack did well by me; he had me placed in a free school, at seven years of age, and always paid my board in advance for a year.

"So you see, sir, I had a fair start to help myself, which I did right off. I went errands for gentlemen, and swept out offices and stores. No one liked to begin with me, for they all thought me too small, but they soon saw I got along well enough.

"I went to school just the same, for I did my jobs before nine in the morning; and after school closed at night, I had plenty of time to work and learn my lessons. I wouldn't give up my school, for Father Jack told me to learn all I could, and some day I would find my father, and he must not find me a poor, ignorant boy. He said I must look my father in the face, and say to him without falsehood: 'Father, I may be poor and rough, but I have always been an honest boy and stood by the ship, so you needn't be ashamed of me.' Sir, I could never forget those words." He dropped his cap, drum, and sticks, bared his little arm, and showed the figure of a ship in full sail, with this motto beneath it, pricked into the skin: "Stand by the ship."

"When I was twelve, I left New York and came to Detroit with a gentleman in the book business. I was there two years, when the war broke out.

"One day, a few months afterward I was passing by a recruiting office, and went in. I heard them say they wanted a drummer. I offered; they laughed and said I was too little; but they brought me a drum and I beat it for them. They agreed to take me. So the old stars and stripes was the ship for me to stand by."

The colonel was silent; he seemed to be in deep thought. "How do you ever expect," he said, "to find your father? You do not even know his name."

"I don't know, sir, but I am sure I shall find him, somehow. My father will be certain to know that I am the right boy, when he does find me, for I have something to show him that was my mother's," and he drew forth a little canvas bag, sewed tightly all around, and suspended from his neck by a string.

"In this," he said, "is a pretty bracelet that my mother always wore on her arm. Father Jack took it off after she died, to keep for me. He said I must never open it until I found my father, and that I must wear it so around my neck, that it might be safe."

"A bracelet, did you say?" exclaimed the colonel, "let me have it—I must see it at once!"

With both his small hands clasped around it, the little boy stood looking into Colonel B.'s face; then, slipping the string from over his head, he silently placed it in his hand. To rip open the canvas was but the work of a moment.

"I think I know this bracelet," stammered Colonel B. "If it be as I hope and believe, within the locket we will find two names,—Wilhelmina and Carleton; date, May 26, 1849"

There were the names as he said. Colonel B. clasped the boy to his heart, crying brokenly, "My son! my son!"

I must now go back in my story. In the first year of his married life, Colonel B. and his lovely young wife sailed for Europe, expecting to remain several years in Southern Europe, on account of the delicate health of his wife. He was engaged in merchandise in the city of Baltimore. The sudden death of his business partner compelled his return to America, leaving his wife with her mother in Italy.

Soon after he left, his mother-in-law died. Mrs. B. then prepared to return to Baltimore at once, and took passage on the ill-fated steamer which was lost. Vainly he made inquiries; no tidings came of her. At last he gave her up as dead; he almost lost his reason from grief and doubt.

Fourteen years had passed; he did not know that God in his mercy had spared to him a precious link with the young life so lost and mourned. Restless, and almost aimless, he removed to Michigan. When the war broke out, he was among the first to join the army.

There stood the boy, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Father," he said, "you have found me at last, just as Father Jack said. You are a great gentleman, while I am only a poor drummer boy. But I have been an honest boy, and tried my best to do what was right. You won't be ashamed of me, father?"

"I am proud to call you my son, and thank God for bringing you to me just as you are."

My little hero is now a grown man; and as the boy was so is the man. "Stand by the ship," the motto which served him so well while a boy, is his motto still.

A FAITHFUL SHEPHERD BOY

Gerhardt was a German shepherd boy, and a noble fellow he was, although he was very poor.

One day he was watching his flock, which was feeding in a valley on the borders of a forest, when a hunter came out of the woods and asked:—

"How far is it to the nearest village?"

"Six miles, sir," replied the boy; "but the road is only a sheep track, and very easily missed."

The hunter looked at the crooked track and said:—

"My lad, I am very hungry and thirsty; I have lost my companions and missed my way; leave your sheep and show me the road. I will pay you well."

"I cannot leave my sheep, sir," replied Gerhardt. "They will stray into the forest, and may be eaten by wolves or stolen by robbers."

"Well, what of that?" queried the hunter. "They are not your sheep. The loss of one or more wouldn't be much to your master, and I'll give you more than you have earned in a whole year."

"I cannot go, sir," rejoined Gerhardt, very firmly. "My master pays me for my time, and he trusts me with his sheep; if I were to sell my time, which does not belong to me, and the sheep should get lost, it would be the same as if I stole them."

"Well," said the hunter, "will you trust your sheep with me while you go to the village and get some food, drink, and a guide? I will take care of them for you."

The boy shook his head. "The sheep do not know your voice, and—" he stopped speaking.

"And what? Can't you trust me? Do I look like a dishonest man?" asked the hunter, angrily.

"Sir," said the boy, "you tried to make me false to my trust, and wanted me to break my word to my master; how do I know that you would keep your word to me?"

The hunter laughed, for he felt that the lad had fairly cornered him. He said:—

"I see, my lad, that you are a good, faithful boy. I will not forget you. Show me the road and I will try to make it out myself."

Gerhardt then offered the contents of his bag to the hungry man, who, coarse as it was, ate it gladly. Presently his attendants came up, and then Gerhardt, to his surprise, found that the hunter was the grand duke, who owned all the country round.

The duke was so pleased with the boy's honesty, that he sent for him shortly after that, and had him educated.

In after years Gerhardt became a great and powerful man, but he remained honest and true to his dying day.

DICK HARRIS; OR, THE BOY-MAN

Dick Harris was called a clever boy, and no one believed this more firmly than he. He was only fourteen years of age, and yet he dearly loved to be thought a man.

As he was about to leave school, his friends often asked him what he intended to be. Dick could not tell; only, that it must be something great. Now while Dick had learned some good thing in school, he had also learned many evil habits—among them the practice of smoking.

Dick's father smoked. He saw men smoking in the streets, and so he thought it would be manly to smoke. Along with some of his schoolmates, he used to hide himself and take his turn of the one pipe or cigar which they had among them. As they were afraid of being found out, they hid the pipe when any one came near.

His father, who although he smoked himself, forbade Dick doing so, asked him one day why his clothes smelled so of tobacco smoke.

"Some of my schoolmates smoke, father."

"But do you smoke?"

"No."

"Take care you don't then; it's all very well for men, but I won't have any of my children smoking."

Dick went away, as the Bible says, "with a lie in his right hand."

And yet he wanted to be a man. Now look at that, my lads. What is it that makes a man—I mean a true man? There are many things. The Bible says that the glory of young men is their strength—strength of body, and strength of mind.

Would Dick get this kind of glory by smoking? He certainly would not strengthen his body, for it has been proved again and again that boys who smoke weaken their bodies.

Tobacco is a poison—slower perhaps than strong drink, but quite as sure; and although it may not kill you outright, because the quantity taken is not large enough, yet it pollutes the blood, injures the brain and stomach, and paralyzes many of the healthy functions of the body.

The result is stunted growth and general weakness. A boy who smokes much never can have the glory of bodily strength.

Dick found this out for himself, to his bitter regret. And besides this, do you think that his conduct showed strength of mind? He began the practice of smoking, not because he believed it to be right, but because men smoked. He was only a boy, yet he wished to appear a man—that is, to appear what he was not.

What could be more weak than for a boy to have no reason for doing a thing than that men do it? But it led to something worse. He was smoking on the sly, and to conceal it he became a liar. He lied in the school by his conduct, he lied at home by his words.

We could have respected him, although we pitied him, had he smoked openly and taken the consequences; but who can respect a coward? He is not worthy of the name of man. Dick continued to smoke after he left school, and was apprenticed in a large warehouse.

Here again the old desire to be like men influenced him. They had cigars, he must have one; they smoked, he must do so. This conduct had its invariable effects. He became the associate of "fast" young men—got into debt—learned to drink—stayed out late at night—and before his apprenticeship had ended, was ruined in health; and but for the indulgence of his employers would have been discharged in disgrace. Was that acting the part of a man?

This happened many years ago. Last week amidst a crowd who surrounded a polling booth, there stood a man about forty years of age—he looked twenty years older. On his head was a battered hat; he wore a seedy, black coat; both his hands were in his pockets, and in his mouth the stump of a cigar which had been half-smoked by another man; his face was bloated, his eyes bleared and languid. Even the vulgar crowd looked at him with contempt.

I looked into his face thinking there was in it a resemblance to one I had known. Slowly and painfully came the sad truth, that the drunken creature was Dick Harris; he had become a man but he was a lost man.

It has often been said, "How great a matter a little fire kindleth." The spark which kindled a blaze among Dick's evil passions, was the spark which lit the tobacco pipe at school. Bad habits are easily acquired, but they are hard to get rid of. See what smoking had done for Dick. It led him to drink, and the two habits have left him a wreck.

But you say to me, "There are many thousands who smoke, and yet are strong men." It is so. But in almost all cases these strong smokers did not begin the habit while they were boys; if they had done so, the likelihood is, they never would have become strong men. Besides, how much stronger they might have been if they had never smoked!

Many who smoke and still appear strong, have nevertheless undermined their constitution, and when an unusual strain comes upon it there is a collapse.

"But again," you say, "all who smoke do not learn to drink, and so lose true manhood." That may be; and yet there is a significant fact that a confirmed drunkard who does not smoke can scarcely be found. It has recently been shown that the great majority of those who break their temperance pledge are smokers.

Smoking and drinking are branches of the same deadly tree whose leaves curse the nation.

And now, my lads, "Quit you like men, be strong." The next time any one says to you, "Have a cigar," say "No!"

If he says it is manly to smoke, say "No; it is manly to exercise self-control; to act from principle; to have cleanly habits; to be unselfish; to pay one's debts; to be sober; and to have the approval of one's conscience. Now, I might lose all these elements of manhood if I learned to smoke."

THE WAY OF SAFETY

Dear grandma is one of those who "being dead yet speaketh."

She was not a preacher, or a lecturer—much less a censurer or reprover; but she was that most agreeable of teachers to childhood and youth, a story-teller. Yet, let no one suppose that she told us tales of fairy lore or ingenious romance, as pernicious as they are false. Not so; the stories to which we listened with so much delight, were all true, and all from the capacious store-house of her own memory.

We had returned from the church one Sabbath afternoon, and as usual, hastened to grandma to repeat as much as we could remember of the sermon. The text was that solemn command of the wise man: "My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not;" and our pastor had made it the ground-work of a powerful exhortation to the young especially, to beware of the many temptations, snares, and allurements which they should meet; and warned them of the consequences of yielding to the seductive influences by which they might be surrounded.

"That reminds me of a young man whom I knew before any of you were born," grandma remarked, when we had reported as much as we could remember of the sermon. "You have heard me speak of Jacob Wise?" she said, addressing my father.

"Yes, mother," he replied, "please tell the children about him. I am sure your account of his experience will be a very suitable addition to our afternoon sermon."

"O yes, grandma, please do!" we exclaimed; and, drawing our seats around her, we prepared for what we knew would be a treat. The good old lady did not need to be urged, but, after pausing a moment to collect her thoughts, began as follows:—

"Jacob Wise was the son of a near neighbor when I was a happy wife in my Western home. His father was a plain, practical man, respected for his uprightness, good sense, and piety; and he brought up his son in his own sound principles, at the same time giving him all the education that was within his reach.

"When Jacob was about fourteen years of age, he was sent to Louisville for the benefit of a year's instruction in a large school there.

"There were, also, other sons and daughters around his father's hearth. It therefore appeared expedient that Jacob should be allowed to develop his taste for commercial pursuits.

"The first circumstances of any note, that I remember, which particularly marked his character, occurred at the time of his first practical acquaintance with business.

"While in Louisville, he received much attention from the family of a wealthy man who kept a large store in the city; and when, at the close of his school term, he was offered a place behind the counter of his friend, he found no difficulty in obtaining his father's permission to accept of it.

"The merchant, Mr. Rankin, was a smooth, bland, good-tempered man, and in his intercourse with the world maintained outwardly a fair and honest character.

"But Jacob had not been many weeks in intimate connection with him before he discovered that his dealings were not all conducted with scrupulous adherence to divine law; neither was a conscientious regard to his neighbor's interests a very deep-seated principle. This caused the lad much uneasiness; and a feeling of nervous disquiet took possession of the hitherto happy boy.

"He hesitated as to which was the more honorable course: to obey his employer without question, or to sacrifice his own ideas of strict integrity.

"But he was not long left in doubt. One day a carriage drove to the door, and a richly dressed lady entered the store, and asked to be shown some children's necklaces. Jacob, who attended in that department, was proceeding to wait on her, when Mr. Rankin came forward smiling, and with the ease and courtesy for which he was noted, took the lad's place, and spread before the lady an assortment of glittering trinkets which, judging from her gay appearance, he knew would please her eye.

"An animated dialogue ensued between the merchant and his customer, respecting the style and value of the various articles under view. The lady was made to believe that this elegant display had been imported with great cost and difficulty from the manufacturing cities of Europe, and, in consequence of the immense and rapid demand for them, the obliging trader had been satisfied with moderate profit, and was now willing to dispose of the remainder of the stock at fabulously low prices.

"To all this, which he knew to be utterly and shamelessly false, Jacob listened with equal grief and astonishment, and it was with difficulty that he restrained his honest indignation as he saw one after another of the tinsel gewgaws transferred to the shopping bag of the deceived customer at prices which were five times their value, while she was duped with the flattering persuasion that she was receiving unequaled bargains.

"All doubts as to the unlawfulness of his remaining another hour under the roof where this swindling transaction had taken place, were immediately removed from the mind of the noble and upright youth.

"When Mr. Rankin returned after having very politely attended the lady to her carriage, and placed the parcel containing her purchases by her side, he was met by Jacob, who, with an air of grave rebuke rarely assumed by lads of his years, informed him that from what he had seen of his method of conducting business he thought it quite impossible that they could agree.

"He was, therefore, resolved to return without delay to his father's house, and he was glad that the terms upon which he had entered the establishment left him free to do so.

"The firm and fearless bearing of the boy awed the man of unjust practices, and he neither attempted to vindicate his own meanness nor to oppose the departure of his right-minded assistant. At once Jacob returned to the old homestead, his character more permanently formed by the ordeal through which he had passed."

"But do you think, grandma," inquired Henry, "that Jacob would have acted so independently if he had had no home to return to?"

"Yes, dear, I think he would," was the prompt reply. "He had learned to obey the commands of God and to believe His promises. He knew that the injunction, 'Come out from among them,' was followed by the assurance, 'I will receive you,' and such was his trust in his heavenly Father's word that no thought for his future provision would have interfered with the performance of what he deemed to be his duty."

"Well, grandma," said Henry, "I like the stand taken by the honest boy. Please go on with the story."

"Jacob remained at home for the next three years, making himself useful in teaching his younger brothers and sisters, besides assisting his father in the management of his affairs. In the meantime his own education was advancing. Nor was he without receiving many offers of clerkship in the neighboring cities, whither the good report of his honesty and integrity had come.

"But a cousin of his father, who was a merchant of some eminence in New Orleans, had proposed to take him into his counting house in a confidential capacity when he should reach a more mature age, and for this important post he was qualifying himself.

"Accordingly, when he was eighteen years of age, at the request of his relative, he again left home. This time his departure was a more serious affair than it had been when, a few years before, he left for school in Louisville.

"Now he was going to a large and populous city, where fashion and vice walked hand in hand, and where snares and pitfalls were spread for the simple and unwary, with scarcely a finger-mark cautioning them to beware.

"All the neighborhood was moved with anxiety and friendly interest for the youth, and the last Sabbath of his attendance at our rural church, the good pastor made an earnest and affectionate address from the same text which the minister presented to-day.

"Our friend's journey to the great maritime city of the South was not without incident. Mr. Wise accompanied his son to Louisville, and, after the necessary preliminary arrangements, went with him on board the boat that was to bear him down the broad waters of the Mississippi.

"The parting advice and benediction of his father were then given. He reminded him of the subject of his pastor's last sermon, and closed by giving him, as the motto of his life, the imperative charge, 'Come out from among them.'

"Then, as he desired to return home by daylight, and the boat was not to start for a couple of hours, he once more committed his son to the care and guidance of heaven, and left him, with a calm trust that he would be kept in the way of safety.

"After a pleasant trip on board the 'Southern Belle,' our young friend arrived in New Orleans.

"Jacob was much pleased with his new situation. He found his relative a man of the most honorable character. Accommodations were procured for him in a first-class boarding-house, where none but persons of the best standing were admitted. And, whether owing to his attractions of mind or person, the sterling worth of his character, or the independent position of his family, or perhaps all these combined, he soon found himself an object of marked interest and attention to all with whom he came in contact.

"Naturally of a social disposition, and disposed to look at everything in the most favorable light, Jacob saw none of those vicious traits and habits which he had been cautioned to shun.

"He did not partake of the mirthful spirit by which the unwary are enticed into scenes of folly, neither did he deny himself innocent recreations.

"And now to the unsophisticated youth, life presented the fairest aspect. His religious duties were carefully attended to, and in the faithful discharge of his business engagements no one could be more careful and punctual. His evenings were devoted to the society of those who were congenial to him. But it was not long before the hidden thorns of the flowers that strewed his path began to make themselves felt, nor was it without pain that conscience awoke him from the repose in which he had been lulling himself.

"Among the many charming sojourners at the establishment in which he had taken up his abode, was the family of a wealthy planter, who had come to the city for the winter. Mr. and Mrs. De Veaux were a lively and fashionable couple, and their children partook of the gay and careless temperament of their parents.

"Isabel, the eldest, was now in her sixteenth year, and the faultless beauty of her face and figure was only equaled by the child-like sweetness of her disposition. She had been brought up without much restriction or control, and now that she was entering society for the first time, being gay, spirited, and witty, she flung herself into the enjoyments of fashionable pleasure with all the zest of her nature.

"The winter glided along with its witching gayeties, and, though the young Christian was never tempted to join the giddy multitude in their unlawful pastimes, yet his views were more lax than they had been.

"With the hope of his presence having a restraining effect upon the fair being who had touched the tenderest chords of his nature, he suffered himself to be led into scenes such as sober conscience could not approve.

"At length, however, the alarm came that was to disturb his security. A sermon was to be preached by a celebrated minister before the members of the 'Young Men's Christian Association.' Jacob attended, and heard with startled interest the minister deliver, as his text, the very same verse which the pious pastor of his country home had made the subject of the last discourse he had heard from him: 'My son, when sinners entice thee consent thou not.'

"The young man of irreproachable life had no idea that this exhortation could be applied to his case; he had been careful that 'sinners' were granted no opportunity of enticing him.

"But to many of the young men present, who were not so cautious, he hoped the sermon would prove of benefit. So he settled himself comfortably to listen to the brilliant orator.

"But his self-complacency did not last long. It was that very class to which he belonged, that the preacher addressed. He exposed the cunning temptations of Satan, and told how he labored to lead even those who hated vice, to join in the pleasures of the world, without requiring them to commit one apparent sin.

"Thus the enemy sought to lead even the Christian, and to turn his heart from God, from holiness, and from heaven.

"Painfully solemn were the feelings with which Jacob left the house of God at the close of the service. The film had passed from his eyes, and he saw that while his outward walk had been strictly correct, his heart had wandered from its true allegiance.

"When he reached home he found a gay party of young people, dancing and making merry in the brilliantly lighted parlors. But the sickening sensations that ran through his frame, at the thought of time thus wasted, and creatures fashioned in their Maker's image perverting their fine intelligences, showed the change that had been made in his views within the last hour.

"He went at once to his chamber, and with earnest prayer, he gave himself anew to his Master.

"He decided at once that Isabel must be given up, with all her attractions. How lone and cheerless the future appeared. Casting himself upon his knees, he prayed for help to bear the blow which had descended upon his hopes.

"With Jacob Wise, to know his duty was to do it. Having felt the evil influence of intimate association with light and giddy worldlings, he determined to change his boarding place to some more retired spot where no similar temptation should waylay him. And so, the next morning, he called on his pastor, stated the circumstances in which he was placed, and asked his help in obtaining board in some private family connected with the church.