"Point to the better land, Home of the blest, Where she has pa.s.sed away, Gone to her rest.
O"er the departed one Memory will yearn; G.o.d, in his mercy, grant He may return."
FATAL ERRORS.
Unfortunately, it is much easier to copy a great man"s imperfections than those qualities which give him his greatness. Too often, also, are their defects mistaken for their marks of distinction,--vice for virtue,--and copied by the young, who have not the ability to imitate their greatness.
"General Grant smokes!"
"_President_ Grant drinks!"
These two sentences, with the lamentable fact of their probable truth, have made more smokers of young men in the military and civil walks of life than all other texts in the English language. General or President Grant is not responsible for the lack of brains in the community, to be sure; but if "great men" will persist in bad habits, young men should be taught the difference between them and their virtues, and cautioned to shun them, or their bark will be stranded far out of sight of their desired haven,--the port of their ambition,--and nothing but a worthless wreck remains to tell what better piloting might have done for them. The voyage ended cannot be re-commenced.
A student of medicine, in New York, brought a bottle of liquor to our room. I told him where that bottle would carry him.
"Pshaw! It"s only a pint of wine. Dr. Abernethy, the great English surgeon, bought one hundred and twenty-six gallons at once, and he did not _die a drunkard_," was his contemptuous reply.
"But you must remember that Abernethy lived in the days of _good_ port wine, when every man had something to say of the sample his hospitality produced of his popular beverage. The doctor, who never was intemperate, was very hospitable.
""Honest John Lloyd!"--what an anomaly when applied to a rum-seller--was a great wine merchant of London, a particular friend of Abernethy"s, and of all great men of his day, who loved wines and brandies.
"One day I went to Lloyd"s just as Dr. Abernethy left.
""Well," said Mr. Lloyd, "what a funny man your master is."
""Who?" said I.
"Why, Mr. Abernethy. He has just been here and paid me for a pipe of wine, and threw down a handful of notes and pieces of paper, with fees. I wanted him to stop to see if they were all right, and said, "Some of those fees may be more than you think, perhaps." "Never mind," said he; "I can"t stop; you have them as I took them," and hastily went his way.
"In occasional habits we may most safely recollect that faults are no less faults (as Mirabeau said of Frederick the Great) because they have the shadow of a great name; and we believe that no good man would desire to leave a better expiation of any weakness than that it should deter others from a similar error."
In fact, the doctor was opposed to drunkenness, and also gluttony, although he himself "was a good liver," as the following anecdote will show:--
A wealthy merchant who resided in the country had been very sick, and barely recovered, when, from the same cause, he was again threatened with a return of the like disease.
"I went to see him at home, and dined with him. He seemed to think that if he did not drink deeply, he might _eat like a glutton_," said the doctor.
"Well, I saw he was at his old tricks again, and I said to him, "Sir, what would you think of a merchant, who, having been prosperous in business and ama.s.sed a comfortable fortune, went and risked it all in what he knew was an imprudent speculation?"
"Why, sir," he exclaimed, "I should say he was a great a.s.s."
""Nay, then, thou art the man," said Abernethy."
The leopard does not change his spots. For the truth of this read the life and fall of Uniac.
O, it is a fearful thing to become a drunkard.
The habit once acquired is never gotten entirely rid of. It sleeps--it never dies, but with the death of the victim.
Young men, avoid the first drink. Never take that first fatal gla.s.s; thus, and only thus, are you safe from a drunkard"s grave, and the curse entailed upon your progeny.
STRENGTH IN WEAKNESS.
"Sir, I am advised that you have a barrel of beer in your room," said the president of one of our New England colleges to a student, who, contrary to rule and usage, had actually purchased a barrel of the delightful stuff made from brewed hops, copperas, and filthy slops, and deposited it under the bed, convenient for use.
"Yes, sir; such is the fact," replied the student.
"What explanation can you give for such conduct, sir?"
"Well," began the student with the boldest confidence, "the truth is, my physician, in consideration of my ill health, advised me to take a little ale daily; and not wishing to be seen visiting the beer-shops where the beverage is retailed, I decided to buy a barrel, and take it quietly at my room."
"Indeed! and have you derived the antic.i.p.ated benefit therefrom, sir?"
inquired the president.
"O, yes, sir; indeed I have. Why, when I first had the barrel placed in my room two weeks ago, I could not move it. Now, sir, I can carry it with the greatest of ease."
The president _smiled_, and ordered the barrel removed, saying that "in consideration of his rapid convalescence the treatment could safely be discontinued."
A WARM PLACE FOR A COOK.
Soon after the completion of the Roberts Opera House, in Hartford, Conn., the Putnam Phalanx held a grand ball within its walls. The music was exquisite; the prompters the best in the state; the ladies were the most beautiful and dressy in the land; and all went splendidly, till the supper was discussed. There had been a misunderstanding about the number for whom supper was to be prepared, and it was found out, when too late, that there were a hundred more guests than plates. The supper was spread in the bas.e.m.e.nt. When the writer went down with friends, the tables, which had already been twice occupied, presented a disgusting scene--all heaped up with dirty dishes, debris of "fowl, fish, and dessert," and great complaint was made by the hungry dancers, while some unpleasant epithets, and uncomplimentary remarks were hurled at the heads of the innocent caterers.
With our party were Dr. C., a great joker, and Dr. D., his match.
"If you don"t like this fare you can go through into the restaurant," said one of the waiters. "It is all the same," he added.
We required no second invitation. We did ample justice to the fare provided, and retired, leaving Dr. C. to bring up the rear. In a half minute he came running after us, saying,--
"The fellow told me I must pay for the supper in there, extra!"
"Well, what did you tell him?"
"Why, I told him to go to h----."
"Well, you did right; let him go; that is just the place for him."
On another occasion, the dinner not being forthcoming at a hotel where we dined, the doctor "fell to," and soon demolished the best part of a blanc-mange pudding before him.
"That, sir, is dessert," politely interrupted the waiter, in dismay at seeing his dessert so rapidly disappearing.
"No matter," said the doctor, finishing it; "I could eat it if it were the Great Sahara!"
A MODERN GILPIN.
The widow Wealthy lived in the country. She was a blooming widow, fair, plump, and--sickly. She owned a valuable farm, just turning off from the main thoroughfare,--broad acres, nice cottage house, great barn and granary, and she was considered, by certain eligible old bachelors, and a widower or two, as "a mighty good catch."