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SUNDAY SCHOOL

lolngtrajpli.

REV. ALFRED ^TAYLOR,

PASTOR OF THE PRESBYTERIAN CUUBCH,
BRISTOL, PA.

WITH AN INTRODUCTION

By JOHN S. HART. LL. D.

BOSTON

NO. 9 CORNUILL.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864,

By henry HOYT,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.

INTRODUCTION

The author of the following Sketches, is widely
known, — first, as a successful Sabbath School Mis-
sionary ; secondly, as a Pastor, who, in his own church,
has given special attention to the cultivation of this
department of the field of ministerial labor; and,
lastly, as a writer, who has most happily "photo-
graphed," for the use of others, the results of his own
observation and experience. His pictures are so life-
like as to have caused some almost ludicrous mistakes;
persons of whom the author had never heard, and liv-
ing in various and widely distant States, often imagin-
ing themselves to have sat for the portraits ; and in
some instances, sending angry complaints to the editor
about the supposed personalities. As these papers all
appeared originally in the ^'■Sunday School Times ^J I

IV INTRODUCTION.

have liad a good opportunity of judging both of their
merits and of their acceptance with the public ; and I
think I am safe in sayhig, that no series of articles,
that has appeared in that paper, has attracted more
attention among Sabbath School men, or been more
generally approved, or whose republication has been
more frequently called for. They deserve to take
their place among the permanent literature of the
cause. The volume which contains them is one which
ought to finds its way upon the table of every Sabbath
School man, and of every friend of Sabbath Schools.

John S. Hart.
Philadelphia^ January, 1864.

CONTENTS.

STJFEPlX:i>TTEIsriD EHSTTS.

CHAPTER I.
The Fidgety Superintekdent 9

CHAPTER n.
The Heavy Superintendent • 14

CHAPTER m.
The Consequential Superintendent 19

CHAPTER IV.
The Slovenly Superintendent 24

CHAPTER V.

The Successful Superintendent 30

CHAPTER VI.
The Heedless Teacher 37

CHAPTER Vn.
The Shallow Teacher 43

CHAPTER Vm.
The Abgdmentaiive Teacher 48

Vl CONTENTS.

CHAPTER IX.
The Inexperienced Teacher 53

CHxlPTER X.
The Dull Teacher 59

CHAPTER XI.
The Wearisome Teacher 65

CHAPTER Xn.
The Unconverted Teacher 70

CHAPTER Xm.
The Inconstant Teacher 77

CHAPTER XrV.
The Disagreeable Teacher 83

CIUPTER XV.
The Uneasy Teacher 88

CHAPTER XVI.
The A3IIABLE Teacher 94

CHAPTER XVn.
The Regularly Late Teacher 99

CHAPTER XVm.
The Traditional Teacher 105

CHAPTER XIX.
The Excellent Te.4.cher Ill

CHAPTER XX.
The Mischievous Scholar 117

CHAPTER XXI.
The Lazy Scholar 123

CHAPTER XXn.
The Precooioub Scholar 127

CONTENTS. Vll

CHAPTER XXm.
The Rebellious Scholar 133

CHAPTER XXIV.
The Careless Scholar 139

CHAPTER XXV.
The Too Big Scholar. 144

CHAPTER XVI.
The Scholar who does not Learn 149

CHAPTER XXVn.
The First-Rate Scholar 155

CHAPTER XXVin.
Sunday School Speech IMaking 160

CHAPTER XXIX.
The Pompous Speaker .' 166

CHAPTER XXX.
The Long-Winded Speaker 171

CHAPTER XXXI.
At the Convention 177

CHAPTER XXXn.
The Empty jVIan 185

CHAPTER XXXIH.
The Dull Speaker — 191

CHAPTER XXXIV.
The Talking Superintendent 197

CHAPTER XXXV.
The Stuffed Children 203

CHAPTER XXXVI.
Thb Peripatetic Bore 215

Viii CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XXXVn.
The Apologetic Speaker 221

CHAPTER XXXVm.
The Untimely Speaker 228

CHAPTER XXXIX.
The Ridiculous Speaker 234

CHAPTER XL,
In the Pulpit 241

CHAPTER XLI.
The Truly Eloquent Speaker 248

CHAPTER XLH.
**And the Speech pleased the Lord". 255

SUPERINTENDENTS

CHAPTER I.

The Fidgety Superintendent

U4 HIS person is constitutionally uneasy.
VL^ He is in a stew at home, at his place of
business, and wherever else he goes. He
never was thoughtfully calm for five minutes
at a time. He unwittingly puts into a stew
those with whom he associates or has business.
It would be well if, in putting on his Sunday
clothes, he could clothe himself with a garb
of quiet dignity, but he cannot. So he brings
his e very-day manners and customs with him,
as he comes to the discharge of his official
duties in the Sunday School. His entrance
into the school-room introduces a general

10 THE FIDGETY SFPERIXTENDENT.

odor of disquietude and restlessness. He
seems to have been shaved with a dull razor,
or bitten by venomous insects. Probably
both. As he constantly boils over on the
subject of punctuality, he is careful not to
be after the time for the opening of school.
But he hurriedly bolts into the school-room
just as the clock is on the strike, and as hur-
riedly arranges his affairs, so that the opening
of the school may at once proceed.

His opening exercises are as when a can of
fermented preserves is opened. Great ebuli-
tion ; little orderly propriety. His ways are
different. Sometimes a hymn, a chapter, a
prayer. Sometimes a hymn, a prayer, a chap-
ter. Sometimes no chapter, sometimes no
prayer. Generally without the care in se-
lection and arrangement which is desirable.
Always lacking in that spirit of earnest de-
votion which should mark every religious
exercise. The school is opened, or rather
torn open, in such a manner as to jar the re-
ligious feelings of all right-minded teachers.

THE FIDGETY SUPERINTENDENT. 11

The exercises of study are due, but the
impetuous official has a notice to give, or a
new reo'ulation to announce. He rinjys the
bell with violence, and failing to gain the
attention he desires, thumps on the desk with
a stick till enough noise is made to cause
everybody to look and listen. The notice
or regulation is an unimportant one, which
might have been otherwise disposed of. The
Library duties, contrived as awkwardly as
possible, are then attended to. Five adjutant
superintendents, under the name of secreta-
ries, then march round, attending to the roll,
which our fidgety friend might as well do
himself, but for the fact that he does not see
how one man can do so much work.

The school is fairly set in motion. Not the
stately and dignified motion of the well
freighted and balanced ocean-steamer, but the
nervous wriggling of the little unballasted
skifi", which a flaw of wind may upset at any
moment. A constant buzz is heard when the
superintendent moves round. Not the buzz

1'2 THE FIDGETY SUPERINTEXDENT.

of the busy bee, children industriously study-
ins: and recitino: ; but somethinsr more like
the buzzing of a family of hornets, as he goes
from class to class, stimulating teachers and
scholars with some ever new species of worry.
The boys are a special plague to him. The
girls constantly minister to his vexation. As
for his teachers, never were such an inefficient
set known to be in any one school. The ven-
tilating apparatus distresses him. The ar-
rangement of the shutters and blinds requires
his unremitting attention. He flutters at the
stove, and disturbs the school by making a
noise w^ith the poker. He bothers the libra-
rian until that officer is on the point of resign-
ing. The sexton is his natural enemy.

The fidgety superintendent has no lack of
rules and regulations. In fact, he has too
many ; enough for several Sunday Schools.
He has so many that it is impossible to en-
force a quarter of them. Some of them con-
flict with others. Most of them are the pro-
duct of his own unassisted wisdom. Some

THE FIDGETY SUPERINTENDENT. 13

of them have been extemporized for particu-
lar occasions. For instance, when a boy (not
too able bodied) has behaved badly, the school
is reminded of the rale that all such boys so
behaving, shall be made an example of, by
being temporarily imprisoned in the coal-cel-
lar. With strong cries and great hustling,
the evil-doer is thus made an example of, the
bigger boys wishing that he had tried it on
them, that they might see whether bo}^ or su-
perintendent vfould go to that dimly lighted
place of punishment. The school is thrown
into confusion. Superintendent declares that
among such a set it is impossible to keep or-
der, and that the school is rapidly going to
destruction. So it is. And if the teachers
value the school, and think it worth saving,
the best thing they can do is to call a special
meeting, unanimously request Mr. Fidgety to
consider himself put out, and then elect a
wiser and more placid man in his place.

CHAPTER II.

The Heavy Superintendent.

u,aE is a good man, but very cliill. A man
^i of considerable ability in some things.
iS'ot necessarily an old man, though some-
times chronologically exempt from active ser-
vice. He means well. He wants to do as
well as he knows how, for the weitarc of the
school. He has the respect and affection of
the minister and good people of the church.
He is a respectable man, and a respectable
superintendent. But he puts the children to
sleep. The Sunday School slumbers under
his ponderous administration.

He leads the school along in one old rut,
the same rut that it always has travelled in.
The old rut is worn not wide, but deep. So
deep that the superintendent stands in it up
to his eyes and ears. He can neither see

THE HEAVY SUPERINTENDENT. 15

nor hear what is gohig on outside of it. It
would be impossil>le for him to drive out of
it. The school sings the same hjanns, learns
the same lessons, prays the same prayers,
uses the same books, that it did twenty years
ago. These met the requirements of that day,
and why should they not of the present ? If
any teacher, scholar, or friend suggests an
improvement or alteration in any of the old
established modes of conducting afiairs, he
is met with the serious, apprehensive face of
this solid man, so suggestive of the peril the
school would run by stepping out of the path
of ancient precedent, that he is at once struck
with a deep sense of his audacity in suggest-
ing that which if carried out, would have hur-
ried the whole concern to disgraceful ruin.

The school is a small one. The scholars
are those who have been born in it, or have
naturally wandered into it. Most of them
go from force cf habit. They have been told
it is right to go to Sunday School. They do
not go because they are interested. There is

16 THE HEAVY SUPERINTENDENT.

nothing to excite especial interest in the
childish mind. They are tolerably well be-
haved, orderly, stagnant children. There is
no missionary effort, no lively energy in the
school. Some exhuberant young converts
once tried it, but the heavy head went to
the pastor, and asked him if he thought they
had better, and he thought they had better
not, and so they wilted into submissive in-
activity.

The con2fre2ration are aware of the existence
of this school. They know it in two ways.
They see the children coming out of it when
church begins ; and they have the opportuni-
ty of contributing something to the yearly
collection which is taken up for its expenses.
This is all they know about it. The children
are not numerous enough to make a disturb-
ance, nor the expense great enough to neces-
sitate a large collection. It is an inoffensive
Sunday School.

This heavy superintendent is regular and
punctual in all that he does. He has never

THE HEAVY SUPERINTENDENT. 17

been late. He has never been flurried in the
performance of his duty. He never foiled to
write up his record-book neatly with ink, and
yet without blots. His absence or irregulari-
ty would be as quickly noticed as would the
absence or want of perpendicularity of the
church steeple. Departure from his usual un-
ruffled dignity would be as novel as the crack-
ing of a joke by the pastor in the pulpit.

In conductiDg the exercises of the school,
our friend is stately and solemn. The prayer
at the opening is fifteen minutes long. Al-
though efibrts have been made to keep the
children in devotional attitude and silence
during its continuance, they have been at-
tended with only partial success. But the
heaviest of all exercises is when the good man
makes "a few remarks," commencing with
*' My dear young friends." If the " remarks "
are prolonged as they generally are, many of
the " dear young friends " have to be waked
up at their close, and even some of the young-
er teachers yield to the general feeling of

18 THE HEAVY SLTERINTENDENT.

heaviness. These symptoms of weariness
fail to ruffle the composure of the speaker, or
to bring the "remarks" to a close a moment
before their natural expiration.

The time of usefulness of this respectable
old seventy-four ship-of-the-line has run out.
A less clumsy craft, even though of less
depth, and lighter equipment, would be more
available for the work of the present day.
Let our fossil superintendent either go out of
service, as a well-used and time-worn monu-
ment of the past, or else let him get himself
razeed, pitch overboard his weighty old
smooth-bores, and rig himself with all the
modern rifled improvements, and iron-clad
sides. Then, in the Master's strength, he
will be able not only to sail in the shallow
waters where the enemy of souls is to be met,
but to send into his sides such telling shots,
as will cause the school to give thanks to God
for the new efficiency with which they com*
mence in earnest to " fight the good fight of
faith."

CHAPTEE III.

The Consequential Superintendent.

|E is an elder or vestryman of the church.
A well-to-do merchant, a judge of the
supreme court, or a bank cashier. He has
railroad stock in his safe, and money to his
credit in bank. Lives in a fine house, drives
excellent horses, and sits in the front pew, mid-
dle aisle, into which his family come regularly
^VG minutes after the minister has commenced
service. For these reasons, and not on ac-
count of any particular fitness for the post,
this gentleman has been elected superintend-
ent of the Sunday School. Very great is the
honor which he has conferred on the church
and Sunday School by his acceptance. In the
" brief remarks " which he made on the occa-
sion, he told them that they must not look to
him for any great amount of labor in the duties

19

20 THE CONSEQUENTIAL SUPERINTENDENT.

connected with the administration of the school.
The school should have his influence and his
sympathy.

Prior to the election of this superintendent,
the school had been somewhat run down. The
former superintendent was a plain young man,
pious, but lacking in those qualifications which
w^ould enable him to make his Sunday School
a first-class institution in the eyes of the con-
gregation. The school needed influence, sym-
pathy, and a long pocket.

Our consequential superintendent has come
up nobl}^ to the relief of the school's embar-
rassments. Feeling his own credit and char-
acter involved, he has paid for the boo]i:s
bought on credit eighteen months ago, and for
the stoves purchased last winter. He has
also removed the annoyance caused by the
duns of the coal dealer for his little bill, the
fuel represented by w^hich was consumed last
winter. But with this liberality comes a new
embarrassment, worse than mere debt. Tlie
genlieman considers that he has a moral

THE CONSEQUENTIAL SUPERINTENDENT. 21

mortgage on the school. The kindness he
has done it can never be repaid. He makes
no secret of the success of his efforts to save
it from roin. In fact, he seems to own the
whole establishment. It has his influence and
his sympathy. So have the ser^^ants in his
kitchen and the horses in his stable. And he
consults the teachers about as much on the
business of the school as he consults his ser-
vants or horses on the conduct of his house-
hold affairs.

He is tolerably regular and punctual in his
attendance. When he is late the school re-
spectfully waits for him. When he is absent,
somebody else takes his place. Nobody ven-
tures to susrsrest to him that he should mend
in this respect, for everj body knows that a
man of his influence has so much to attend to
during the week, which must be properly at-
tended to, that it is impossible for him to
attend to anything properly on the Sabbath.
Besides, suggestion would give offence to
him, which would be impolitic. He might

22 THE CONSEQUENTIAL SUPEKINTENDENT.

remind the unreasonable people who find
fault, that it is a great favor for him to come
at all.

His manner, while on duty, is the manner of
a brigadier general. He is not only the
superintending overseer of the flock commit-
ted to his charge, but he is driver and com-
mander. If he is a large man with a full bass
voice, this sets well on him, and produces a fine
impression on those who come in to visit the
school. If he is a little man with a squeaky
voice, it is very ridiculous. The teachers
would prefer a less dictatorial manner. The
scholars feel that whatever sympathy he may
profess to have for them, they cannot get up
much for him.

And the Sunday School feels that it has
made a bad bargain. It has looked at all the
man's qualifications except the right ones, in
making selection of him as head ofiicer. He
was put in to compliment him. How shall
he be got out ? Pastor, teachers and friends,
put their heads together to invent a way The

THE COXSEQUE^nTIAL SUPERINTE3SDENT. 23

way seems as hard to find, and as profitless
when found, as the Northwest Passage. The
debt of gratitude due him for extricating the
school from its pecuniary difficulties, stands
as a great iceberg in the way of removing him.
It will not do to hurt his feelings. He will
leave the church. The church will lose his
influence, his sympathy, and his pew rent.
That would ruin the church. The only
feasible suggestion made for getting rid of
him, is to wait till he dies. And that seems
a slow way. But the school, in terror of the
great man, toils on under his unhappy tyranny,
year after year, growing weaker and more
disordered, like the dyspeptic who persists in
living on indigestible food ; until at last, when
the change is made by death or voluntary re-
tirement, what is left of the unfortunate
school is so enfeebled and rickety, that the
work of rebuilding has to be done almost
from the foundation.

CHAPTER IV.

The Slovenly Superintendent.

jST Saturday night he omitted to wind
his watch. The house clock is off duty
by reason of similar omission. There is no
time-piece in the house that can show what
o'clock it is. So he is a little behind time in
coming into school. With toilet partially
made, breakfast not quite eaten, and family
prayers omitted for want of time, he moves
along to his work, one moment hurrying be-
cause he is late, the next moment slackening
his steps, reflecting that as he has been punc-
tual for two consecutive Sundays, it is no
matter if he is late to-day ; the school cannot
begin before he gets there. "I forgot to
wind my watch last night," is the apologetic
remark to the knot of teachers and scholars
awaiting him at the door. " Why couldn't

THE SLOVENLY SUPERINTENDENT. 25

he remember about his watch ? " is the almost
audible thought of the hearers of the lame
apology.

Our friend is a good natured, easy soul.
He is willing to have tilings done right, if
anybody will do them right. He is not dis-
pleased when they go wrong. He says he
makes the best of it, and is not going to be
worried about what he calls the minor matters
of life. His religion is a sort of slip-shod
religion. In all his affairs he is down at the
heels. There is no arrangement in his count-
ing room or his family. His children rise
when they please, get their meals " when it is
convenient," hoist their clothes on without
much regard to neatness or regularity ; and
the only thing in which they are all regular, is
their late attendance on the means of grace.

It is not to be supposed that the Sunday
School which is officered by the slovenly man,
is a model of neatness and good order. It
partakes of his spirit of inefficiency and lack.
There sits a class of seven boys, crowding to

26 THE SLOVENLY SUPERINTENDENT,

look over two testaments. One dog-eared
hymn book is the whole musical apparatus of
another class of five well-grown children.
Yonder class has been without question books
for a month. That class has for a year
borrowed catechisms from its next neigh-
bor. The records of several classes have for
weeks been kept on soiled slates, because the
superintendent " really forgot," each week to
get the new class books which he had been
promising for some time. One class studies
in Mark, another in Hebrews, another in
Ezekiel. Each teacher is obliged to try to
speak louder than all the other teachers, so as
to be heard above the general hum. Hence
the general hum is so great that everybody
interferes with everybody else. There is no
system, no neatness, no order. The whole
school is at loose ends. The good-natured
superintendent says that he never had an}'- gift
for keeping order in school. Xobody oilers
to contradict him in this opinion.

The record book which is kept by this man,

THE SLOVENLY SUPEKINTENDENT. 27

looks as if one of the younger classes had
been using it for a copy book. There are
strokes, pot hooks, crosses, smears, and
blots. The first page was kept with some
neatness. He blotted the second, and then
lost his ambition to keep the book nicely.
The drawer in his desk contains several dis-
used record books, put out of service on ac-
count of the many blots and blunders contain-
ed in them. The slovenly superintendent
often gives notice from the desk, that the
teachers should be more punctual and regular,
and that the scholars must be more orderly
and obedient. But it is like the fabulous pater-
nal crab, who exhorted his son to go straight
instead of crooked. The precept is so barren
of example as to carry no force with it, and,
like most of this officer's laws and regula-
tions, it is a dead letter. They all know that
they ought to do better ; so he, too, knows
that he ought to mend in almost all his vrays.
"Didn't think " is at the bottom of all this
well-meaning man's errors. He did not mean

2S THE SLOVENLY SUPERINTENDENT,

to be untidy, to have a disorderly school or a
slatternly record book, to be late, to let his
watch run down, or to be generally slovenly.
But he fails to be systematically thoughtful
about these duties, and continual short-
comings bring forth the ever recurring ex-
cuse, "I forgot," or amplified, "I really for-
got all about it."

The time of teaching is over. The bell is
rudely jangled to cause the learning to stop.
No intelligent questioning about the lesson,
nor even an announcement of next Sunday's
lesson, for each class studies (or omits to
study) the lesson of its own selection. But
there are sundry notices to be given out, and
they serve for closing exercises. Mr. Sloven-
ly announces that there will be a prayer-meet-
ing on Wednesday and lecture on Friday and
monthly concert on Monday and the annual
pic-nic on Thursday and the funeral of Aman-
da Jones this afternoon all to commence at
half past seven o'clock until further notice.

Of course the teachers remember all these.

THE SLOVENLY SUPERINTENDENT. 29

No matter, he has given them out, and that ia
all he has to do with it. The school is then,
not exactly dismissed, but rather dispersed.
Slovenly goes to his home, intending to make
a resolution to institute a general reform.
But his good intentions do not come to a head.
He forgets them. He blunders on in the
same old way, and the school blunders and
stumbles along with him, and they will con-
tinue to blunder and stumble and forget to-
gether, so long as they both shall live.

CHAPTEE Y.

The Successful Superintendent.

'If^E is a good superintendent, and there-
fore successful. A man of intelligence
and of some degree of information. He was
not elected because of his being a judge, an
elder, a deacon, or a bank president, nor be-
cause he is the oldest, the youngest, the most
popular, or the best looking man in the
church. The teachers chose him because of
his fitness for the duties of the office. When
he was elected, he did not consume half an
hour of the precious time of the meeting, in
poor apologies and regrets at not being able
" to perform in a proper and satisfactory man-
ner, the laborious and responsible duties of
the high station and important position in
which, by their unanimous and most compli-
mentary action they had placed him." Nor

THE SUCCESSFUL SUPEEINTENDENT. 31

did he suggest, (all the while meaning to ac-
cept,) that Mr. Fidgety, Mr. Heavy, or one
of the other candidates who did not get a
single vote, could fill the office better than he
could. Pie went at it like an honest man and
a Christian.

Regularly and with punctuality has he per-
severed in the work. He keeps sound over-
shoes and a good nmbrella, and is not com-
pelled to stay at home on rainy days. You
can set your watch by his opening and dis-
missal of the school. He does not forget that
the whole body of teachers, old and young,
will come late if he is late, and that if he is
punctual they will all, excepting two or three
incorrigibly heedless ones, be punctual too.

When he arrives at school, it is under-
stood that he has come with a definite
purpose, and not to let things straggle along
the best way they can. With courteous firm-
ness he goes about the business of the school.
He, as pleasantly as possible, corrects what is
wrong, according to the best of his ability.

32 THE SUCCESSFUL SUPERINTENDENT.

By some apparent magic he smooths down
the crust}^ teacher, and quiets the turbulent
one. He has succeeded in briu^'ino- to nauijht
the plans of Mr. Books, the Librarian, who
in two years has invented fifteen new w^ays of
keeping the library, each worse than its pre-
decessor. He has quieted ]Mr. Whimsick, the
singing man, who bought all the new flash
tune-books as soon as published, and insisted
that the school should sing them all through.
And yet he keeps all these people in a good
humor. The boys and girls love him, even if
he is a pretty strict disciplinarian. They
know that if they are good scholars, disci-
pline will not be exercised on them.

He is neat in his ways. You can examine
the record of the school since his election,
and find a well-kept and correct history of
its transactions. There is a general air of
tidiness, and absence of boisterous doings,
throu<?hout all the affairs of the school. The
whole concern goes like w^ell-oiled clock
work.

THE SUCCESSFUL SUPERINTENDENT. 33

Not many speeches are heard from the lips
of this superinteudent, but whenever he opens
his mouth he says something worth remem-
bering. He does not talk against time, nor
utter great swelling words when he has noth-
ing to say. When a friend or stranger
visits the school, burdened with a speech
which must be delivered, he endeavors to
choose between the man who will instruct
the children and the one who will only utter
long strung nonsense. Sometimes, however,
he makes a mistake, and allows Mr. Windy-
wordy to have his say, but is carefuj not to
invite him again.

As a good railroad conductor understands
everything about his train, from driving the
engine to oiling the car- wheels, and can give
wise directions to those whose duty it is to
attend to these things, so our superintend-
ent can preside, keep order, teach any class
that may be without a teacher, look after the
library, do the singing, and even take the
place of the sexton in case of necessity. Not

34 THE SUCCESSFUL SUPERINTENDENT.

that he does all these at once, or any one of
them in a way, or at a time to interfere with
others in the discharge of their duty. But he
can do them all, and the teachers and scholars
know it, and the knowledge does not hui-t
him in their ej^es.

If he were not a man of prayer, he would
find it impossible to attain this excellence.
JBut he is in the habit of constant and earn-
est praj^er. Not only are his pu'hlic prayers
well uttered, and edifying to those who are to
join in them, but they come from his heart,
and God hears them. In his private devo-
tion the school is often the subject of his
^petitions. He prays that the children may
be converted, that the teachers may with
humble faithfulness do their duty, and that
he may have God's grace and guidance to
enable him to be faithful in what he has to
do. The spirit of prayerful earnestness is
infused into all he does. Persevering energy
takes him and the school safely through many
difficulties which might otherwise cause a

THE SUCCESSFUL SUPERINTENDENT. 35

wreck. His school prospers. The neighbor-
ing schools and churches call it a model
school, and ask for instructions as to the pe-
culiar system by which it is managed. They
hardly believe when they are told that there
is no wonderful hocus-pocus about it, but
that it is only a school conducted with prayer-
ful zeal, order and simplicity, by a band of
wise and faithful teachers, under a good super-
intendent.

TEACHERS

CHAPTER VI.

The Heedless Teacher.

S this gentleman's rule is to dismiss his

([Vy business from his mind, out of business
hours, so he forgets on Sunday night that
there is such an institution as the Sunday
School, and such a special field of labor as
his own class ; nor does he again think of
either until the following Sunday morning at
a quarter before eight o'clock. At that time
he is dreamily waking from his fourth morn-
ing nap, having spent the time since sunrise
in a series of sleepings, wakings, and slow
gymnastics on the bed, in the manner of Dr.
.Watts's sluggard. The " door on its hinges "

87

38 THE HEEDLESS TEACHER.

shuts with a hang^ when the thought dawns
on the sleepy man's brain that this is the day
on which he has to go and teach the Sunday
School class. And the time has almost come.
He has an hour and a quarter to dress, shave,
find and study the lesson, eat breakfast, have
family prayers, and run to school. The list
of duties is long, for so short a time, so he
pauses a while to consider which he will do
and which he may leave undone. He con-
cludes toilet and breakfast to be works of ne-
cessity. The rest may take their chance.
Ashe hastily attends to his toilet duties, he
remembers how many things he has forgotten
during the week which he really had intended
to do. He was going to visit those boys in
Crook alley, to look for three or four new
scholars, to inquire into the meaning of a hard
passage in last Sunday's lesson, on which
some of the boys had bothered him ; and gen-
erally to turn over a new leaf. But it Avas
too late now. He will not spoil his breakfast
by doing them, or even thinking much about

THE HEEDLESS TEACHER. 39

them. He will let them go this time, and try
to do better next week.

Clothes being put on, and hot coffee swal-
lowed, the heedless man is off to the scene of
his labors, neglecting much that ought to be
done at home. He goes rapidly, but yet is
late. He is so often late that when he comes
early the boys say there is going to be rain.
He comes in while the hymn is being sung,
and instead of w^aiting quietly by the door, he
marches in (he has new boots) and takes his
place in his class, pleasantly saluting each of
the boys, and telling them he is glad to see
them. The superintendent ought to abate
this nuisance by locking the door.

Our teacher is entirely unprepared in the
lesson. He knows where it is, because he re-
members where last Sunday's was, by the boys
having stumped him on that hard question.
So with triumphant air of knowledge, he
makes believe that he has studied it. He
turns promptly to the right chapter, and asks
the boys if they know it. It is hard to cheat

40 THE HEEDLESS TEACHEE.

boys, though, and these boys, finding him
out, begin to make fun of him to each other.
Alter he has asked ail tlie questions in large
print, the boys put several questions to him
which he cannot answer. He is forced to the
confession that on account of the great press
of business on him — indeed this has been the
busiest week of his life — he was not able to
do his lesson that justice which should have
been, done to it. But, as he considers Bible
study a great privilege, he will be certain to
be well posted on the lesson for next Sunday.
In what he calls the minor matters of
his class, this teacher is exceedingly slack.
The class-record book he looks on as very un-
necessary ; and as to putting down the num-
bers of library books which the boys take
home, he thinks it is useless trouble. The
question of the wisdom of trying to keep some
order in the class does occasionally occur to
him, but he cheerfully dismisses it, as beneath
the thought of one who has the great interests
of gospel teaching to attend to . If he would

THE HEEDLESS TEACHER. 41

attend to the great interests, his heedlessness
with the little interests might find some excuse.
But he does not attend thoroughly to anything.
He has no system, except the system of letting
things look after themselves.

With all his heedlessness and inefficiency,
he believes, in his simplicity, that he is a first
rate teacher. Go to him with any suggestion
as to mending his ways, and he says it is a
very good one, and that he always does that
way himself. He can expound by the half
hour how things ought to be done. In this
he often talks empty nonsense. But he thinks
it is very wise talk, and mistakes the respect-
ful attention of his wearied hearers for con-
viction of the truth of what he says.

It is an open question in the school whether
to ask this teacher to stop teaching, or to try
to rectify him. Rectification will involve
almost making him over again from the begin-
ning, undoing the work, thoughts, and habits
of many years' standing, while turning him
out would be short work. They do not want

42 THE HEEDLESS TEACHER.

to hurt his feelings. But one good brother
goes kindly to him to tell him of his short-
comings, and to try to set him right. Mr.
Heedless listens to him for a moment, then
draws himself up with dignity, and tells the
brother that he sees he is not appreciated at
that school, and that there is a better Sunday
School in the next street anxious for his ser-
vices. He will go there, he believes. Off he
goes, in high dudgeon, to the better Sunday
School in the next street, where somebody
once complimented him to make him stop
talking high sounding nonsense, and where he
erroneously believes he is wanted.

No Sunday School wants a heedless teacher.

CHAPTER YII.

The Shallow Teacher.

^ HIS teacher takes his place in his class
Vi/ in a state of great mental poverty. He
is troubled to know how he shall spin out his
little stock in trade, so as to make of it a
sufficient show to persuade his scholars that
he is a profound student. He has, in a num-
ber of instances, succeeded in passing for
quite a good Biblical scholar. The longer he
keeps up the appearance, however, the great-
er is the effort. Sometimes it almost crushes
him in the performance of his duties, and
makes him very nervous and anxious.

His learning is made up of a heavy dose of
Question-book, and a thin skimming of several
commentaries which he has at home. This is
taken in very hurriedly. He calls it his pre-
paration. It would be wiser to call it a lack

44 THE SHALLOW TEACHER.

of preparation. It is entirely unavailable for
all purposes for which Christian teaching is
used, and answers only for the purpose of
deceiving himself and trying to deceive
others.

As he enters the school, he congratulates
himself that the session will not be very long,
that the superintendent will consume part of
the time in the opening and closing exercises,
and (he hopes) a speech ; that the librarian
must spend some of the time in his perform-
ances : and that, after all^ if all the teachers
were thoroughly examined, some might turn
out to be as shallow as himself. When the time
for teaching actually commences, he feels as if
the time for his public execution has arrived.
Nevertheless, he determines to be as brave as
he can be, to look wise and not go beyond
his depth. With the air (as much as possi-
ble) of a theological professor, he begins to
make the most of the little stock of undigest-
ed material which he lias in store. He ex-
poses in rapid succession, as nearly as he can

THE SHALLOW TEACHER. 45

remember them, the views of each commenta-
tor on the passage in hand. Having a little
smattering of the Greek language, he indulges
the boys with remarks on " the way it is in
the original,^^ his explorations of " the origi-
nal " being confined to the words printed in
Greek characters in Scott's Commentary.
One of the large boys, who studies Greek at
school, and is of an inquiring turn of mind,
asks him a question designed to bring forth
more light on the precise meaning of a Greek
word, and finds, to the great discomfort of all
concerned, that teacher's vaunted knowledge
does not extend so far. Teacher is inwardly
angry, but dared not rebuke the lad for doing
what it was perfectly natural he should do.
He thinks he will get ahead of all such boys
by picking up a little Hebrew, which he can
certainly quote without fear of molestation.
He had better take care. Some studious
boy will learn the crooked characters and fly-
speck points, even faster than he will, and
will give him trouble.

46 THE SHALLOVr TEACHER.

In his manner, this teacher is somewhat
pomj)ous and externallj^ wise. He talks so
loud as to be heard by all the classes which
are neighbors to his own. As he feels his
defects, he sees the importance of passing for
a profound man in the eyes of his fellow
teachers. He uses long words, sometimes
rightl}^, sometimes very much out of place.
He generally makes a stir and fuss with his
teaching, very much like the commotion
made by the last two or three inches of water
running out of the bath-tub.

Thouofh the session is not lono^, he is done
before it is time to close the school. He has
asked all the questions, and given a little un-
satisfactory information about them. What
next? He does not know. The boys are
glad to hear no more from him, for he has
not interested them. He has nothing more
to say; no application to make, no religious
remarks to ofibr. He sits and looks at the
boys, while the boys gape round the room, or
annoy tlie. next classes by talking to each
other.

t:he shallow teacher. 47

If advice Would not bn thrown away on this
shallow person, he might be told that it is as
hard to counterfeit bank-note engraving as to
work honestly for bank notes ; that the
amount of trouble and nervous energy ex-
pended on the external show of learning,
would be better spent in actual study ; that
he would do well to explore his Biblical
helps, instead of skimming on their surface ;
and that he ma}^ let his little stock of Greek
and HebrQw go for the present, instead of
making a paltry exhibition of them, which will
only disgrace him. But he is not fond of ad-
vice. He thinks, in common with most other
shallow people, that he knows as much as
anybody.

Keader, are you a shallow teacher ?

CHAPTER VIII.

The Argumentative Teacher.

fN early life, this teacher was a prominent
member of a debating society in a rural
neighborhood. He exercised his gifts largely
in the discussion of abstruse and incompre-
hensible subjects, and made a powerful im-
pression on himself as to his abilities in this
branch of literary labor. As he advanced in
years, he became a debating society himself,
habitually presenting and answering argu-
ments, entertaining himself, but making him-
self very disagreeable to people who have not
such an argumentative turn of mind.

He is not an ill-natured man, yet those who
meet with him judge that he is, from his
fondness for opposing the views of every-
body else. He suggests subjects for what he
calls conversation. It is soon discovered that

48

THE ARGUMENTATIVE TEACHER. 49

by conversation he means argumentative dis-
cussion. He introduces controversy into his
conversation when there is no necessity for it.
When he takes his stand on an idea, he thinks
that everybody else has wrong notions on the
subject. This would not be so bad, but he
goes further. He puts down every body
whose views differs from his own, as his mor-
tal enemy.

It is not to be expected that this teacher
will feed his little flock with the pure *milk
of the Word. His teaching is an exercise in
semi-religious polemics. Instead of instruct-
ing his scholars, he gets up arguments with
them, and calls it Biblical criticism. Instead
of making the way of salvation plain to them,
he suggests to them the difficulties which
cluster about some of the knotty points of
Scripture, telling them that if they succeed
in clearing away these difficulties, they will
be first rate critics. He bothers their minds
about whether the Israelites were right or
wrong in helping themselves to the portable

50 THE ARGUMENTATIVE TEACHER.

property of the Egyptians ; about where the
materials for the Tabernacle came from ;
about the size of Solomon's household, and the
style of Elijah's chariot of fire. He would
have them settle accurately the amount of
wine that Timothy was to take with his water,
the nature of the evil done to Paul by Alexan-
der the coppersmith, and the exact number of
feet and inches of the stature of Zaccheus. All
these things may be well to know, and it is
right to study them ; they are only side dishes
to the gospel feast with which our youth must
be fed. But our teacher makes them the sta-
ple of his instruction, stuffing the boys with
an immense amount of controversial head-
knowledge, and forgetting much of that which
is necessary to salvation. Gospel simplicity
is unknown to him. Whatever of doctrine he
teaches must be presented subjectively, then
objectively, then from some particular stand-
point.

At the teacher's meetings, this teacher is a
nuisance. The fervent interest which he has

THE ARGUMENTATIVE TEACHER. 51

in the school, brings him out on the stormiest
evenings. The other teachers wish he would
stay at home, but no rain, snow, cold, or
other unpleasant state of weather, hinders him.
He is not always in time for the religious ex-
ercises of the meeting, but is on hand when
the business is brought up. He has some-
thing to say on every subject that comes be-
fore the meeting. And he is apt to say it in
such a way as to cause unpleasant fervor. The
views and " brief remarks " which he offers,
the discussions and ventilations of different
opinions to which he gives rise, consume an
important part of the time of the meeting.
He is possessed of considerable information ;
sometimes it is right, sometimes wrong. But
no matter what the subject under discussion,
whether of vital doctrine or of the correctness
of his watch, he is always positive that he is
right, incontestible evidence to the contrary
notwithstanding .

In the varied round of Sunday School du-
ties, this man sometimes finds himself at a

52 THE ARGIBIENTATIVE TEACHER.

Sunday School convention. He is most at
home at the convention where an obtuse com-
mittee has selected a dozen topics for discus-
sion, of such a nature in themselves as to call
forth expression of great diversity of senti-
ment, and so bunglingly stated as to befog
the minds of the delegates about what they
mean. There let our friend have full swing
for his oratorical and controversial powers,
and the whole convention may fancy itself
present at a session of his original rural debat-
ing society. It is this kind of man who does
mischief at a convention, and brings dircredit
on the enterprise.

This is not a useful teacher. He is so much
a man of argument that he is not a man of
prayer. He spends so much time on polem-
ics, that he has none left in which to speak to
his boys about the value of their souls. Nor
will he be useful until he changes his ideas
and his habits. He must stop being a de-
bating society, and remember that he is a
teacher of the gospel. Then he may do some

CHAPTEE IX.

The Inexperienced Teacher.

YOUNG man or young woman, not
very far removed from boyhood or girl-
hood, fresh from the Bible-class and boarding-
school. A young person of excellent inten-
tions, but of such limited experience, and of
such slender acquaintance with the things of
the world, or of the Sunday School, that the
good intentions fail of development into prac-
tical usefulness.

The inexperienced teacher goes to his work
with very little understanding of its duties or
responsibilities. An earnest call has been
made for teachers. All who can teach are
invited to come and fill up the gaps in the
school. Our young friend thinks he can
teach. It looks easy. The older teachers
seem to get along well, and he does not see

53

54 THE INEXPERIENCED TEACHER.

why he should not get along as easily as they.
So he offers himself, and his services are
thankfully accepted. His mind is filled with
the thought of great activity and usefulness.
Off he goes to his new labors, feeling that he
has already done great things, surmounted ob-
stacles, and accomplished victories. He is
like the city-bred merchant who buys a hun-
dred acres in the country, expecting at once
to succeed handsomely in farming, because
the previous owner of the property always had
good crops. As the citizen finds that he has
practically to learn much that he never knew
before, about seed-time and harvest, shovels
and pitchforks, so the teacher soon learns that
he is very ignorant about how to do that which
is before him. He has even to learn how to
use the appliances which are to help him in
his work. He is in a novel and embarrassing
position. He asks the boys how their old
teacher used to teach them. Although they
know just how he taught, and would like to
be taught again in the same way, they are

THE INEXPERIENCED TEACHER. 55

unable synoptically to explain how it was, and
the teacher fears that they are stupid, because
they do not tell him. What is he to do with
such a dull set of boys ? He has formed no
plan for teaching ; it never occurred to him.
Before long the boys begin to draw mental
comparisons between him and their former
teacher, whom they loved and esteemed very
highly. They conclude that the new teacher
is a booby. This diminishes their respect for
him, and increases the difficulty which he has
in governing them. Symptoms of disorder
are visible in the class, and, as soon as the
neighboring classes are disturbed, certain old
gentlemen and ladies, who have taught in
Sunday School since they were of his age,
look with reproving countenances at the source
of the disorder. Their solemn looks convey
the idea that they mean to say that the young
man never should have been brought into the
school, for he knows nothing about teaching
or keeping order. The superintendent fears
that he has made an unfortunate error in ac-

56 THE INEXPERIENCED TEACHER.

cepting his services, and the young teacher
himself, finding that teaching is not as easy as
it looks to be, and that he has failed in the
attempts which he made at the exercise of
authority among his youthful charge, heartily
wishes himself out of the scrape. He goes
home with a heavy heart, and is nervous when
he thinks of the prospect before him.

This teacher has some talent for teachings
but his difficulty is that it is yet undeveloped
Like a raw recruit who goes into battle, and
fails to shoot any of the enemy, because hft
does not know how to handle his gun rightly,
so our raw teacher is ignorant about taking
aim so as to send the shafts of gospel truth
home to the hearts of his scholars. His abili-
ties must be developed by the kind training of
those in the school who are older than he is.
A little unkindness, or unnecessary reproof,
may snub him, and nip his usefulness in the
bud. The stately Bible-class teacher should
remember that forty years ago he was just
Buch a young man, just as inefficient, just as

THE INEXPEEIENCED TEACHER. 57

green, just as inexpert in Biblical criticism.
The superintendent must bear in mind that it
is his duty to take hold of such youthful help-
ers, and show them how to do their work.
If he has not the gift for such instruction, it
is a sign that he should vacate the office of
superintendent.

Especially in the teachers' meeting this
young teacher can pick up useful information.

The teachers' meeting should be held not
only once a month, for business or prayer, but
every week, for prayerful and diligent study
of the lesson. If the most inexperienced will
attend such a meeting regularly, and will
diligently try to profit by what he hears, he
will become better fitted for his duties than
if he prepares his lessons in a corner. And
if the older teachers will make it their busi-
ness to help the young ones along, instead of
staying away from the study-meeting because
their learning is so great that they need no
more, they will do much to help on the gene-
ration of young teachers who must fill their

58 THE INEXPERIENCED TEACHER.

places when they die or become superannu-
ated.

God bless our young, raw, inexperienced
teacher ! Go on, young friend, and take cour-
age. " Let no man despise thy youth.'*
'* Study to shew thyself approved unto God,
a workman that needeth not to be ashamed,
rightly dividing the word of truth."

CHAPTER X.

The Dull Teacher.

CEN years ago this person took charge of
a Sunday School class, having for his
capital a reasonable amount of Scriptural
and general knowledge, which he had gained
in the ordinary walks of educational experi-
ence. Since that time, his perceptive and
progressive faculties have been asleep. He
has gained nothing ; has made no progress ;
is no better as a teacher than he was the day
he first sat with his class.

Not only is he no better than when he be-
gan, but he is not so good. As a locomotive
left standing, even under cover, for ten years,
will not only fail to accomplish the amount of
travel expected of such a machine, but will
become rusty and incapacitated for work, so
the dull teacher is found to have rusted and

59

60 THE DULL TEACHEK.

got somewhat out of gear, during the time in
which he has not been adding to his stock of
knowledge. The knowledge itself has be-
come rust-eaten. The well of his learning
has been so often and so thoroughly pumped
dry, that there is nothing in it.

Hence, he is a dull teacher. Trying to
pump up something from where there is
nothing, always was dull work. Standing
by, and looking or listening, while the opera-
tion is being performed, is duller work still.
He would raise a crop of very dull boys, only
that the superintendent has occasionally
changed his scholars.

Dull teacher feels no very lively interest in
his class. His interest is not sufficient to stir
him to punctuality. He frequently comes in
with the air of a laggard, ten minutes after
the school has begun. He takes his seat with
a yawn of regret, which appears to be partly
for coming late, and partly because he has to
come at all. Yawning is contagious, so the
boys yawn too. Another yawn or two, and

THE DULL TEACHER. 61

the lesson is commenced. The boys plod
through the reading, verse by verse, of the
chapter. When they mis-call the hard names,
he does not correct them. If a boy misses
the right verse, and reads the wrong one, he
takes no notice of it. The only irregularity
that attracts his attention, is when five boys in
succession read the same verse, which they
sometimes do for fun. Then his v/rath rises
at them.

His method of impai-ting information is to
ask all the questions in the question-book.
This is done with not quite so much interest
as is manifested by the examining physician
of a life-insurance company, when he asks
you the list of questions in reference to your
age, health, and prospects for a long life.
The only difi*erence is, that the physician
seems to feel some interest, while the dull
teacher manifests none. Each question brings
an additional feeling of heaviness into the
class. The boys see their teacher's counte-
nance as unmoved as if made of putty, and

62 THE DULL TEACHER.

feel that it makes very little difference how
they answer. If they know their lessons
well, no objection is made. If they come
entirely unprepared, teacher does not seem
to be very sorry. There is a total absence of
all stimulus to improvement.

Still, this teacher attempts something which
looks like trying to interest the boys. After
the dull round of questioning is over, there is
considerable time left. This he occupies in
his way of telling a story. His way is to
select from the " children's column " of the
dullest religious paper he can find, the very
heaviest and longest article. This he reads
to the boys. His reading is as dull as he is
himself The boys are not interested. They
attend to everything else that is going on in the
school. He reads on, whether they will
listen or not. That is their own look out, and
not his. Presently the superintendent's bell
tinkles, while he is in the middle of a sen-
tence. School is to be closed. No matter
where he breaks off. He is not particularly

THE DULL TEACHER. 63

interested in it. The boys not at all. They
would just as lief stop there as go on to the
end. He rolls the paper up and thrusts it in-
to his pocket, and his teaching exercise is
over. He does not consider whether or not
he has accomplished anything. The thought
of accomplishing anything never occurred to
him.

Now, what is the use of having such a prosy
plod as this man put to work to teach chil-
dren the way of life ? Do you want to have
your boy in his class? No, nor would I put
mine under his care. We want the teacher
who is wide awake, whose interest prompts
him to continual acquisitions of fresh infor-
mation, that he may impart it to his scholars ;
whose love for souls is so great that no sacri-
fice is spared in doing his work ; whose de-
voted energy manifests itself in cheerful en-
deavors for the good of his class, and of the
school ; whose eyes sparkle with delight when
he sits down to engage in the performance of
his Sabbath-day exercises. To such a teach-
er we gladly and hopefully send our children.

64 THE DULL TEACHER.

Good-bye, Mr. Dull Teacher, Go away,
or turn over a new leaf. We don't want you
in our Sunday School.

CHAPTER XL

The "Wearisome Teacher.

fT is tiresome business to be near this man
while he is giving instruction to his boys.
He is a man of industrious and inexhaustible
patience. He thinks that everybody else
ought to be as patient as he is. He grieves
over the depravity of the present generation,
as he notices the general indisposition to give
heed to his prolonged remarks. To sit in his
class and be regularly taught by him, is even
heavier than to be an occasional bystander.

This teacher cannot be accused of slighting
his work. His preparation is made at home
with great research and ponderous labor. He
has all sorts of commentaries and other helps
into which he explores deeply. He takes in
a large store of knowledge. If he had a
mental hydraulic press, by which this could

65

66 THE WEARISOME TEACHER.

be condensed, he might become a very inter-
esting and profitable teacher. But he cannot,
or does not condense. He must give his
hearers his stock of kiK)wledge in undiminish-
ed volume.

When he takes his seat in his class, he be-
gins to act the preacher. His boys are his
congregation. His chair becomes a pulpit,
one of the old fiishioned kind, with toad-stool
column underneath, and sounding board over-
head. His teaching is sermonic discourse.
It has heads, divisions, sub-divisions, and so
forth. It continues until a stop is put to it
by the closing of the school, and would con-
tinue longer if time were allowed for it. His
arguments are good. His logic unexception-
able. His applications tolerably fair. He
sufiers nothing to interrupt him, except dis-
orderly conduct on the part of some wearied
boy. When this occurs, he digresses, to de-
liver a lecture of fiftoen minutes on the shame-
fulness of doing what the boy has done.
After the first three minutes of this exercise

THE WEARISOME TEACHER. 67

have passed, the boy forgets what the teacher
is talkmg about. But the teacher, with se-
rious face and monotonous tone of voice,
keeps on. He means well. He has no in-
tention of doing otherwise than his duty de-
mands. The effect of his teaching is rather
to tire than to instruct ; to displease rather
than to interest.

It sometimes happens that the long-winded
man is not the deep student and careful read-
er that our friend above mentioned is. He
may be an empty headed person. When this
is the case, his tediousness is more difficult to
be borne with than that of the scholarly teach-
er. Mr. Empty Head comes with really noth-
ing to say, but with a great store of words to
express himself with. He turns on the stream
of his volubility, and allows the vapid stuff to
have continual flow, until he brings up against
something which quenches it, generally the
ringing of the bell for the closing of r^chool .
He seems to be wonderfully interested in what
he says. The difficulty is, that he cannot in-

68 THE WEARISOME TEACHER.

terest anybody else. He is not disturbed by
that, however. He is too obtuse to see that
his boys think him a great bore. He says the
session is too short. They grieve over its too
great length. The surrounding teachers look
with astonishment to see how continuously
the man talks, all the while saying not much.

When a speech is to be made, and nobody
else is on hand to make it, Wearisome is put
on the stand. As these occasions seldom
occur, he makes the most of them. He talks
against time, against patience, and often
against common sense. He occupies three-
quarters of an hour in saying what in many
instances could be condensed into ten minutes,
and in many others need not be said at all.
It is fatio'uino' work to listen to his " few re-
marks."

Public prayer is sometimes led by him.
Forgetting the beautiful brevity of the Lord's
Prayer, the petition of drowning Peter, and
of the thief on the cross, he thinks (if he
thinks at all) that he will be heard for his

THE WEAEISOME TEACHER. 69

much speaking, and keeps on for twenty
minutes. The prayer gets to be so much hke
a speech that the hearers forget that it is
prayer. They grow very tired of it.

Lest I shouki fall into the same error with
the long-winded man, and prolong this article
to too great length, I close with three brief
rules for the tediously disposed :

1. BE SHORT.

2. BE POINTED.

3. CONDENSE.

Follow these, and your weary boys will
freshen up like corn in a pleasa/it shower,
after a long drought.

CHAPTER XII.

The Unconverted Teacher.

Y Friend — I will not write about you,
but to you. Your position is a strange
conibination of privilege, responsibility and
danger. You need a message spoken in your
ear. Give prayerful attention.

What are you doing? You are teaching
young people the way of everlasting life.
You are telling them that there is a heaven,
and that there is a hell ; that they must spend
eternity in the one or the other. You are
showing them how to gain heaven, and how
to escape hell. Your instructions are based
on the Bible, which you thus accept as the
inspired revelation of God's will. Whether
your teaching is thorough or not, the fact
that you teach at all, is evidence that you
know of the existence of an omnipotent God,

THE UNCONVERTED TEACHER. 71

of his revealed word, of the future reward of
the righteous, and punishment of the guilty.
You know that only by faith in Jesus Christ
you can be saved, for you have often told your
scholars so.

Strange inconsistency I You tell them of
the way on which you have never set out.
You speak to them of heaven and hell, when
you seem not to care in which your eternal
abiding place shall be. You teach them the
Bible, but its promises have never yet been
found precious to your soul, and its warnings
to flee from the wrath to come, have never
had your attention. You tremble, perhaps,
as you reflect, (if you ever reflect,) that the
God, of whose omnipotence you tell them, is
powerful to destroy you in an instant. You
reject the only Saviour, the acceptance of
whose free mercy you are urging on your
children.

What is the effect of this on your scholars ?
They do not believe what you tell them.
They have sense enough to know that there

72 THE UNCONVERTED TEACHER.

is something wrong. Perhaps they do not
suspect your sincerity, but they cannot under-
stand, why, if you warn them to flee from
coming wrath, you should not yourself lay
hold on eternal life. If you were skating
with them, and should point out to thera a
certain jDortion of ice as too weak to bear
them, and should then go over the very por-
tion yourself, they would not believe there
was danger there. You cannot persuade
them that a certain article of food is un-
wholesome or poisonous, so long as you eat
of it. They will be apt to follow you, and to
do the things which you do, especially the
bad and foolish things. And so long as you
pursue the road to hell, it will be difficult ihv
you to make them believe that the road to
heaven is better for them to walk in.

Are you not in a strange and contradictory
position ? It will not mend the matter to say
that you are teaching only for form's sake.
That would be inexcusable trifling.

You are living as the men lived who work-

THE UNCONVERTED TEACHER. 73

eel for Noah. As every stroke of their work
on the ark only added to their knowledge of
the coming deluge, and of the necessity of
speedy repentance, so each lesson you giv^e,
adds to your responsibility, your knowledge
of the truth, and your sin in rejecting Christ.
They did their work well on the vessel which
saved Noah's household, and yet were lost.
You may be, outwardly, a good teacher, and
yet, if you will not accept Christ, you will
lose your soul. It must have added to the
misery which these men felt, drowning, while
Noah floated off in safety, to know that they
had worked on the ark which saved him, and
yet had no interest in it, or benefit from it.
So, if at the last day you stand on the left
side of the Judge, your wretchedness will only
be the greater, as you remember that 3^ou
helped to build up Christ's kingdom, having
no part or lot in the matter yourself.

But do not be discouraged. Do not, in vain
despair, give up your class, and stop your
efibrts to do good. You may have done some

74 THE UXCOXVEPwTED TEACHER.

good already. God ma};^ have taken the point-
less arrows of truth, which you have sent out
in ignorant unbelief, and made them sharp
and quick to the conversion of some soul.
The lessons you are teaching, will, if you but
apply them to j^ourself, do you some good.
Stop and ask yourself, " What am I doing ? "
Trying to show these children how to be Chris-
tians. " Had I not better be a Christian my-
self?" When you get that far, stop again,
and ask God, for Christ's sake, to make you
a Christian. Then go to your class, and see
with what earnest zeal, with what living ener-
gy, you can tell them how to be Christians.
" Whereas I was blind, now I see," will be
your glad testimony to them, as you point
them to the mighty Saviour who can remove
the scales of error and i2:norance from the
eyes of the sightless sinner.

Unconverted teacher ! What are you going
to do ? Do you mean to keep on in your dan-
gerous and deceptive position ? I can hardly
believe you are a wilful hypocrite. K you

THE UNCONVERTED TEACHER. 75

were, you probably would uot have begun to
teach. But yon are thoughtless. You don't
care whether you are saved or not. Of course
your concern for the salvation of your scholars
cannot be very deep. If you have positively
resolved that you will always be thoughtless
and careless and impenitent, out of the school
with you, as soon as possible ; for you are in-
creasing your own condemnation, and drag-
ging souls with you down to hell. But if you
intend, in God's strength, to live a new life,
keep on, and God bless you in the' good work,
and strengthen you, that you may win many
souls to a knowledge of the truth.

Unconverted teacher ! You have lived un-
converted long enough. Dedicate yourself
noiv to God's service. Not merely with a
common resolution, made in your own strength,
and soon broken m your own weakness ; but
a covenant, a consecration, a surr(;nder, a
giving away of your whole powers, time and
talents to God. That only will make you
happy and useful. Only with such a conse-

76 THE UXCON VERTED TEACHEK.

cration can you hope to be saved, and to save
others.

" Lest that by any means, when I have
preached to others, I myself should be a
castaway."

CHAPTER XIII.

The Inconstant Teacher.

S a fine-looking carriage-horse, just doc-
tored up to be sold, starts off with great
speed, proudly prancing, and with impatient
champing of the bit, so this teacher commenc-
es his duties with much outward demonstration
which appears to promise excellent results.
As the gay horse, after he has been driven a
few miles, suddenly becomes tired, and shows
symptoms of a desire to go no further, so,
when the novelty of teaching in Sunday
School has worn off, and the fact is realized
that there is actually some hard work connect-
ed with it, the unstable person's efforts relax.
He wants to stop and take breath. The good
intentions and resolutions with which he has
stimulated himself to action, have ceased their
working, and he must stop till he can get up

78 THE INCONSTANT TEACHER.

some more. He is a broken- winded teacher.
His intentions in beginning the work were
good. He knew that he onght to teach in the
Sunday School, and he felt that he could do
it. His determination w^as that no stormy
weather should keep him from his work, that
he would alTvays be punctual, and that his
class duties should be conducted with neatness
and regularity. He resolved that he would
never go unprepared to his class. To this
end he spent a considerable amount of money
in buying books and maps to help him in his
study of the Scriptures. He turned over
several new leaves in the administration of
the afiairs of the class, each of which he con-
sidered to be an improvement on the w^ays of
the previous teacher. He won the love and af-
fection of his scholars ; for he gave them plenty
of reward tickets, and one evening invited
them to his house to tea. He sang wdth all his
miglit,^^

*' In all my Lord's appointed ways.
My jomuiey I'll pursue,
Hinder me not, ye much loved saints.
For I must go with you."

THE INCONSTANT TEACHER. 79

The other teachers were pleased with his
earnestness. They congratulated him on his
success, and he congratulated himself.

But, after the pleasant freshness of the
Sunday School has passed, and the congratu-
latory part of the work is over, it appears to
our teacher that teaching is harder work than
he at first thought it to be. The labor of pre-
paration is different from the pleasure of
looking at new books and arranging them on
the shelves. The trouble involved in regu-
lar attendance on school is greater than ho
thought it would be. His scholars do not all
at once become Christians. Nor do they spend
the time and care on their lessons which he
thinks they ought to. Nor do they even give
very thoughtful attention to what he tells
them. He is discouraged. He comes late.
A rainy Sunday keeps him at home. What
is the use in his getting his feet wet, just for
those dull boys? A friend comes to spend
Sunday with him, and he stays at home to en-
ertain him, or ffoes with him to hear the flash

80 THE INCONSTANT TEACHER.

preacher at the other end of the town.
It does not occur to him to provide a substi-
tute for his class, or even to tell the superin-
tendent that he will not be there. The class
may look out for itself. How did it get along
before he was there ! He soon becomes very
irregular, and presently stays away altogether.
He still says that he loves the Sunday School,
and that his interest in it is unabated, but
when asked to return to his post, he begins
to enumer-ate some twenty reasons why he
cannot, all of which should be honestly con-
densed into, " I don't want to."

He is one who, having put his hand to the
plough, looks back. He is Lot's wife, look-
ing again for the pleasant things of Sodom.
The good seed which was sown in his heart
sprang up suddenly, " because he had no
deepness of earth." The sun scorched it,
and, having no root, it withered awa}^ If
the superintendent has many such teachers in
his school, he has to keep a large reserve
corps, an extra set of hands, to supply their

THE INCONSTANT TEACHER. 81

lack of service when they feel more like stay-
ing at home than coming and doing their
work. Such a teacher is no advantage to the
school. He puts his plough in the furrow,
and leaves it for somebody to stumble over.
He becomes a pillar of salt, not to be used
for seasoning, but to be a monument of in-
constancy. The fewer such retrospective
ploughmen and Lot's wives we have in our
Sunday Schools, the more prosperous we shall
be.

" Ye did run well ; who did hinder you ? '*
Inconstant teacher, you hindered yourself.
You "ran imcertainly," and so ran off the
track. You fought " as one that beateth the
air," and so accomplished no victory. Con-
sider your ways. When you are ready to
run with patience, as well as with a little
stimulated zeal, the race that is set before
you, "looking unto Jesus, the author and
finisher of our faith," and not to the strength
of your own resolutions, come back again
into the school, and all hands will cheerfully
welcome you to your return to duty.

82 THE Il<fCONSTANT TEACIIEK.

The magnificent carriage-horse may start
off finely, and travel gaily for a while ; hut if
his first mile is travelled in three minutes, it is
no proof that he will go twenty miles in an
hour. For good, hard, steady, reliable work,
give us the solid, patient animal who works
in the dray, even if he is a little of a plod.

"Wherefore, my beloved brethren, be ye
steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the
work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that
your labor is not in vain in the Lord."

CHAPTER XIT.

The Disagreeable Teacher.

^/^r HIS teacher has no positive hatred for
^^ his scholars, but nevertheless manages
to inflict on them a considerable amount of
discomfort and worry. He looks on them as
members of an evil and perverse genera-
tion, and, though the object of his teaching
them is to reclaim them from their evil and
perversity, he prefers to look on what they
are, and what he is sure they will continue to
be, rather than on any improvement of con-
dition to which he might lead them. He does
not expect that they will ever become good
boys, or smart scholars. And if any of them
should happen to brighten up and learn
something, it might cause him some uneasi-
ness, because it would take away that much

84 THE DISAGREEABLE TEACHER,

of reason for groaning and being disagreea-
ble.

When he meets his scholars in the class, a
large part of the burden of his discourse to
them, is of the great interest he feels in them,
the trouble to which he has put himself to
come and teach them, and the solicitude he
feels, that notwithstanding all these, they
will turn out to be good-for-nothing boys.
But he throws it up to them so often, and so
unpleasantly, as to lead the hopeless good-
for-nothings to doubt the great interest, and
to wish he would spare himself the trouble
which he seems to grudge.

The time for teaching is spent partly in
actual teaching, but principally in speaking to
the boys on the subject of their various errors
and short-comings. If this were pleasantly
and kindly done, a reasonable amount of it
would be wise ; for the olSject of teaching is
to correct that which is wrong. But he does
it in such a way as to discourage the boys,
and to extino'uish their ambition to mend

THE DISAGREEABLE TEACHER. 85

their incorrect ways. Instead of encouraging
them, he exhibits their errors in such a way
as to make them beUeve they are so far wrong
that there is no use of tr3dng to do right. He
tells them that he cannot understand how
they ever learned so many bad things and
ugly ways.

In teaching, his method is peculiar. It
seems to be calculated rather to vex its
victims than to impart useful information to
young learners. The idea of " speaking the
truth in love," he does not understand. He
puts the questions to his scholars very much
as a smart lawyer questions a witness when
he wants to confuse him, and make him con-
tradict his own testimony. There is a tone
of sarcasm in each question which foreshadows
the blunder which the lad will probably make
in answering, and tiie vindictive benevolence
with which the teacher will set him right. He
is fond of sliowing off his great acuteness, and
ability to make corrections. The teaching
is often interrupted with short digressive

86 THE DISAGREEABLE TEACHER.

lectures, beginning with "there now, sir," or
"3^011 stupid." The boys are so used to these,
that they fail to give the attentive regard to
them that they might, if the lectures were any
novelty. He is roused by their want of at-
tention, to pronounce them rare instances of
brainless stupidity. "This is the fifteenth
time I have told you of this, sir; what do
you expect will become of you if you are so
heedless and so wicked ? " Boy does not know
what will V;ecome of him, but expects that it
will be something very bad ; possibly he will
be hung, or his sentence commuted to impris-
onment for thirty years. In which latter
event, he hopes that the teacher and himself
will not be confined in the same cell, lest they
should tire of each other's company. The
boys do not love their teacher very much.
One rude young person goes so far as to call
him Old Crusty.

In his intercourse with the other teachers,
]Mr. Disagreeable is not very pleasant. lie
does not like their wa3's, and intimates that
he has not much coutidcuce in their ability

THE DISAGREEABLE TEACHER. 87

to teach or to administer discipline. He finds
fault with them, and picks flaws in them in
various ways. He complains that he is not
popular among them, and wonders what can be
the reason.

When he goes home he always has some-
thing to say against the superintendent, whose
rules he does not like. One day the superin-
tendent locked the door during the opening
exercises, to avoid disturbance by late comers.
That very day Mr. Disagreeable was behind
time. He rattled at the door, then went off
and did not show himself for three Sundays.

There is no telling how much abuse the su-
perintendent received at his hands during
that time. Finally he swallowed his wrath
and returned to his class. He says the super-
intendent is a tyrant, and ought to be put
out. Would be willing to serve as superin-
tendent himself, if the teachers would only
elect him. But they will probably not vote
for him.

This man needs a little sweetening. Then
he may become a good teacher.

CHAPTEE XV.

The Uneasy Teacher.

W HE teacher who bears this title is related
^<J^ to " The Fidgety Superintendent," whom
he likes very much, and in whose w^ays he
follows. He has a large and prominent ner-
vous system, to which he frequently alludes,
and which gives him and everybody about
him a great deal of trouble. He has no set-.
tied rule of order, but does his w^ork accord-
ing to the notion w^hich happens to possess
him. He has a great many notions. Some
of them are very strange.

Sometimes he comes to school early. He
spends the time previous to the opening exer-
cises in impetuous bother. Instead of calmly
preparing for the work which is before him,
he scolds one boy, praises another, and en-
gages in conversation with a third. Some-

THE UNEASY TEACHER. 89

times he is late. Then, with the air of one
whose breakfast has been poorly cooked or
imperfectly served, he rushes in during the
time of the opening prayer. He is so un-
mindful of the comfort of his fellow-teachers,
that he makes a disturbance as he enters the
school-room. It does not occur to him that
he could do otherwise. He says he does the
best he can in respect to all the branches of
his duty. And perhaps he honestly thinks he
does. But other people think he could be im-
proved upon.

The commencement of his labors is to put
his class in a stir. He begins to do several
things at once. Finding the lesson, arrang-
ing the library books, inquiring after absent
scholars, and saying good morning to those
who are present, making marks in the roll-
]3ook, and hearing one or two boys recite
verses which they have learned, are heaped
on each other in promiscuous confusion. The
affiurs of the day are at once in a taftgle. He
has so much to do. How will he ever get

90 • THE UXEASY TEACHER.

through it ? Pie thinks he is a very Li])orioiis
man. So he is, but he spends more than half
his labor for nothing, and so accomplishes
much less than he would if he were to ex-
change his habits of disquietude for coolness
and tranquillity.

When he is seated in the class, and has
begun his teaching, suddenly the thought oc-
curs to him that he must confer with the su-
perintendent, the librarian, or with some
other teacher. The topic on which he seeks
to give or receive advice is one of such impor-
tance in his mind that it must be attended
to immediately. It would have been well
had he so ordered his afiairs as to avoid flut-
tering about the room in school time. But
he did not think in advance. -Off he starts,
tellinsr his scholars he will be back in a min-
ute. Knowing ho will be gone for sometime,
they improve the opportunity thus given them
for disorderly entertainment. He finds the
official to whom he would talk, engaged in
other duties,. and interrupts him without even

THE UNEASY TEACHER. 91

stopping to ask him if he wants to be inter-
rupted. The errand generally turns out to
be a very trifling one. The superintendent
sometimes has to give him a hint to go back
to his place by announcing from the desk that
he wishes the boys in Mr. Uneasy's class
would stop making such a noise. Teacher
sometimes returns at once to his post of duty,
sometimes looks at the class, says ho does not
think they are making much noise, and goes
on talking. If every teacher would thus in-
dependently tramp round the room, the effect
on the school would be same as would be the
effect on the army of the Potomac, if all its
officers were to spend their time at the hotels
of Washington, instead of on duty.

His habits of thought and study are so rest-
less that he never fixes his mind on one sub-
ject long enough to master it. He takes some
trouble to prepare himself for his class, but
instead of thoroughly learning any one lesson,
he skims over a number of things remotely
connected with what he is going to teach

92 THE UNEASY TEACHER.

about, aud so collects a considerable amount
of unfinished bits of preparation. Instead of
the literary and religious feast which he
should spread before his pupils, he gives them,
as it were, an under-done lunch, in which
there is great variety, but not much that is
good or digestible. Of course, they receive
but slender nourishment. He jumps at a con-
clusion, on matters of doctrine or history,
instead of calmly making up his mind. If
one opinion seems to him to be wrong, he at
once precipitates himself into another, with-
out pausing to examine into the merits of
either. He is as apt to be wrong as to be
right.

So in matters of teaching and discipline.
He has his hobb}^, his mania, his forte. Gen-
erally one at a time, and only for a little
while. To-day, punctuality is his great idea.
To-morrovr, it Yvill be loud singing, and he
may be ten minutes behind time. Soon he
makes a great point of the duty of 'Adping
your feet on the door-mat, as you come into
school, and his punctuality and music are

THE UNEASY TEACHER. 83

both laid aside. Sometimes he will teach
nothing but catechism, sometimes only cer-
tain verses of Scripture, on which he trains
the boys like so many parrots. But neither
one of these continues to be his hobby for
any great length of time.

Uneasy teacher wants to change his class.
He has had it throe months. It is the fifth
class he has had in two years. He thinks
that he and his boj/s are not adapted to each
other. If he had other boys, he thinks he
might do better with them. The boys want
another teacher, too. They are a little tired
of him, and it is no wonder. Their weariness
of him is a matter of encouragement to his
successor. The superintendent indulges him
as he has indulged him before. Hoping that
this will be the last time, he gives him what
he asks for. But his course with the new
class is the same as before, fluttering, fussi-
ness, restlessness, disquietude, impatience.
He needs thorough reform himself. He must
be changed, not his class. He wants a new
" nervous system."

CHAPTER XVI.

The Amiable Teacher.

HE goes to her class with a heart full of
love for the work that is before her, and
of -warm interest in each individual scholar
whom she is to teach. Her love is contagious.
The girls are glad she has come. They con-
sider it a privilege to be allowed to be in her
class. They do not loiter outside the door
till the singing is done, or make a disturbance
during the time of prayer. Her amiability
photographs itself in their pleasant faces. No
matter how plain her personal appearance
may be, the children think she is the prettiest
lady they ever knew. And if she has a beau-
tiful face, her sweet temper and lovely dispo-
sition make it so much the more handsome.
She is the most popular teacher, and her clas3
the most popular class, in the whole school.

THE AMIABLE TEACHER. 95

111 the opening exercises, this lady's class is
a refreshing sight. When the Bible is read,
each girl has her Bible in her hand, and
attentively follows the reading. It is because
the teacher sets the example. In time of
prayer, they with her assume the customary
attitude of devotion. When the hymn is
sung, she succeeds in making them join in it,
in which Mrs. Sour, whose class is near by,
utterly fails. The reason of her success in
this is, that she not only tells the children to
sing, but encourages them by letting out the
full power of her own sweetly tuned voice.
She prefers this method to that of Mrs. S.,
who says, "There, you, you never sing at all;
I don't see what has got into you, that you
wont sing; don't you like singing?" Of
course they don't like her kind, and never

will.

The amiable teacher is a jewel in the way
of imparting instruction fronii the Bible. She
not only knows her lesson, but makes her
scholars know it. The instruction is so

96 THE AMIABLE TEACHEK.

pleasantly given that it is a matter of mutual
surprise when the hour of teaching closes.

These girls love the Bible. It is not asso-
ciated (as in the case of Mrs. Sour's chil-
dren,) with cross looks, sarcastic remarks, or
calling them stupid and idle when they will
not learn it. The* children are led, not
driven. They are coaxed, not punched.
They are made to understand that the Bible
is indeed an interesting and delightful book,
and not a dreary task, to learn which is
miserable punishment.

She has a happy knack of correcting what
is wrong in her scholars. She does not hit
them on the head, nor crack their knuckles
with a stick, in order to show them the error
of their ways. Nor does she worry- them
with long-winded sermons when a few kind
and pointed words will answer the purpose
better. Here is a very dull child vrhoni some
injudicious teacher w^ould exasperate by call-
ing a " stupid little thing." True, she can-
not give the child brains, but she has a happy

THE AMIABLE TEACHER. 97

faculty of making the most of what little
brains are there. The consequence is that
tlie child is learning something. The girl,
who is now number one in the class, used to
be rude and impudent. But rudeness and
impudence hid themselves before the example
of amiability, and the girl is now ambitious
to conduct herself in a Christian manner.

Amiable teacher visits her scholars. Her
visits are as when bright sunshine lights up
the house. Father and mother and girls and
boys are all glad when she comes, and sorry
when she goes. A word of kind sympathy
with the sick child and of good cheer to the
anxious mother, a gentle rebuke to the father
for not coming to church, a help or two in
the hard lesson which the boys are studying,
a little prayer in season. Her visit is spent
in trying to do them some good, rather than
in complimenting and flattering them, and
telling them how wise and handsome they all
are. If she leaves a tract or a little book, it
is not thrust at them with a "there, take that,

98 THE AMIABLE TEACHER.

you siuner," 1)ut it is left with such a charm-
ing word of persuasion as to make sure that
they will both look into it and read it.

The other teachers hold this excellent
woman in very high estimation. Her kind
disposition has endeared her to them as Avell
as to her scholars. They want to be as suc-
cessful as she is. If they follow in her ways,
they will be astonished at their success, and
at the ease with which it is accomplished.
They will see that it is not only the beautiful
and delicate lady who can impart instruction
with gospel coui-tesy and Christian grace, but
that even the great-fisted, six-feet-high man,
with coarse voice and broad shoulders, can,
if he will, live a life and do a work, which
will be a plain and practical sermon from the
text, "For my yoke is easy, and my burden
is light."

CHAPTEE XYII,

The Regularly Late Teacher,

Yjl HIS gentleman may be expected to make
^'^^ his appearance at the door of the Sunday
School from five to ten minutes after the ex-
ercises have commenced. He bolts in, as if
he had come on an important errand which
must be attended to in great haste. He
bounces into his seat, and salutes his scholars
who are present, which adds to the disturb-
ance he has already made. He thinks it is no
matter whether he comes late or early. It
would put him to some extra trouble to arrive
always in season. He thinks that his work
does not suffer by his tardiness. He says he
does the best he can. If he is rebuked for his
bad habit, he says that we are all sinners, and
that he will settle this matter with his God.
He thinks it is very unreasonable in the super-

100 THE REGULAELY LATE TEACHER.

iiitendeut to begin the very minute the clock
strikes. A few minutes' grace should be al-
lowed for the accommodation of those who
prefer to come late. It is still more unrea-
sonable for anybody to find fault with him, or
to sii^2,est that he misjht break himself of this
objec tionable habit. He cannot see why those
w^ho suggest and find fault, should not mind
their own business, and let him alone. In ad-
dition to being regularly late at school, he and
his family are regularly late at church, to the
great annoyance of the minister and congre-
gation.

When he is cornered, in debate on the sub-
ject, he has an ingenious way of putting the
blame on somebody else. Sometimes on the
cook ; sometimes on the rest of the family, who
would stay in bed too long ; sometimes on the
fire, w^hich would not burn ; sometimes on the
baby, who cried three-fourths of the night;
sometimes on the house-clock, or his own
watch, both of which time-pieces ran down,
and obstinately refused to wind themselves up.

THE REGULARLY LATE TEACHER. 101

Sometimes his boots were not blacked in time ;
sometimes an old friend just retm-ned from
China, selected that particular day and hour
to call and see him ; sometimes he neglected
the preparation of his lesson till the time
when he should have been putting on his hat
and coat. The ftict is, that he has no good
excuse, and never had ; but he persuades him-
self, and tries to persuade other people, that,
by reason of the various things which he calls
excuses, it would be impossible for him to be
regularly in time at the opening of the school.
Some fresh cause of tardiness seems to hap-
pen to him every day, each one about as
weak as the one which preceded it.

If the real reasons of this man's lateness were
to be inscribed upon his back, one morning
he would be found labelled, " Didn't think ; "
another, " Don't care ; " another, " Slept too
long;" and another, "Let his watch run
down." He has not sufficient interest in Sun-
day School or church to take the little amount
of forethought and trouble necessary to insure

102 THE REGULARLY LATE TEACHER.

his punctuality. If he is a bank cashier or
book-keeper, he is at his post in time, every
day in the week. Why? He has an idea (a
correct one too) that he may be turned out if
he is given to tardy habits there. But he gets
no pay for coming to Sunday School or church,
and he knows that nobody will turn him out.
A railroad train is announced to start at
nine o'clock. At two minutes past that hour
you arrive at the station, carpet bag in hand.
You hear the rumble of car wheels in the
distance, and see the clouds of smoke which
the departing engine is sending from its chim-
ney. The bystanders laugh at you when you
remark to them that your breakfast was not
cooked in time, or that you didn't think the
thing would go so soon. They offer you no
consolation in consideration of your having
missed your passage. The Sunday School,
which is not conducted with at least the sys-
tem of a railroad, is not good for much. The
superintendent can no more wait, while Mr.
Tardy eats his breakfast, than the railroad

THE REGULARLY LATE TEACLLER. 103

conductor can stop lor him to pack his trunk.
On the strike of the clock (and the clock must
he right) the exercises begin. The door
should be locked during the opening exercis-
es, in order that Mr. Tardy and his relations
may have the privilege of standing out in the
cold, instead of disturbing those who have
taken the pains to come early. This will
mend the bad habit as soon as any other
course. Try it, superintendent, if you have
any regularly tardy ones among your teach-
ers or scholars, and let us hear from you as
to your success.

The good superintendent of a good Sunday
School has no occasion for the services of a
Mr. Tardy, and politely declines them when
they are offered. He knows that the man who
cannot exercise enough self-denial to come
regularly and punctually to school, will never
accomplish much in teaching children the way
of life. Tardy must think beforehand what
he is going to do ; must wind his watch regu-
larlj^, and set it correctly ; must give up his

104 THE r.EGULAELY LATE TEACHER.

sloveuly ways and careless habits, and he
may then be a very useful man. Until he re-
forms he is of very little use, and the little
good he does is counterbalanced by the dis-
turbance he makes.

CHAPTER XVIII.

The Traditional Teacher,

fN the Sunday School where this man's

labors are put forth, things are done some-
what differently from the way in which they
were done in the school to which he formerly
belonged, and where he was brought up. His
attachment for former customs is so great that
it seems to be a prominent part of his creed.
He is distressed at any introduction of what
he calls novelty. He thinks it is wrong. He
is as particular about doing his work exactly
as he did it twenty-five years ago, as any
Chinaman is about wearing his garments after
the precise pattern of those of his forefathers.
When his course is objected to, he says that
he has always got along to his entire satisfac-
tion, in his accustomed ways, and that it is
therefore unnecessary to change them. He

106 THE TRADITIOXAL TEACHEE.

decliDes investigatiDg to see whether or not
his work would have been better done, had
he been willing to improve by the suggestions
and discoveries of other people.

In whatever he does, therefore, he is
governed not so much by the excellency of
his way or belief, as by the fact that he was
taught so to do or believe when he was
young. He was taught, indeed, many excel-
lent things ; some not so excellent ; but he
believes that none of them can be improved
upon by any modern inventions. His very
religion itself is the result of inheritance
from his parents and grandparents, rather
than of careful investigation and conviction
for himself. It is none the less true on that
account, but the force of its truth on his mind
is not such as to enable him, in every emer-
gency to give a " reason for the hope that is
in him."

In boyhood this person received his Sunday
School education, sitting on a semi-circular
bench. Consequently he is much disturbed

THE TRADITIONAL TEACHER. 107

by the action of the furniture committee, who
propose to introduce square forms into the
new buildino:. He is sure thoy will never
answer the purpose. Years ago the teachers
meeting was held on Tuesday evening. Now
it is held on Thursday, that evening being
more convenient to most of the teachers.
Oui;^iend never comes without a sigh at the
departure from the good old ways of former
years. The librarian of former times had a
musical gift, and used to raise the tunes.
The present librarian is no musician, but the
superintendent happens to be able to fill his
place. Mr. Traditional cannot see why that
officer should bemean himself by doing what
the subordinate officer formerly did. And
he is further annoyed by the change in the
selections of hymns and tunes. The hymns
used to be all long or common metre, with
wofully plain tunes to match. These of the
present day are made up of one long line
and three short ones, followed, perhaps, by
three long lines and a short one. The modern

108 THE TRADITIOX.VL TEACHER.

tunes seem to him to be objectionably merry
and trifling. (Some of them are, by the way.)
The fact that the children unite more vocifer-
ously than of old in the use of these hymns
and tunes, is to him only an evidence of the
shockiogly depraved sensationalism of the
present generation.

In his teaching, it is evident that his^ock
of knowledge is exactly what was taught
him in his youth by his respected teacher,
and by his pastor, the Rev. Dr. Bother. It
was all good in its day, but has since failed
to keep up with the progress of Biblical
criticism. His idea of Noah's ark is that it
was like the high-peaked, sharp-nosed imita-
tion of it which are on sale in the toy shops.
It never occurred to him to examine the sixth
chapter of Genesis, to see if the vessel could
possibly have been made of any such shape
and proportions. Teaching about the psalms,
he calls them all the "Psalms of David,"
forgetting, or never having learned, that
some of them were evidently written five

THE TRADITIONAL TEACHER. 109

liuudrcd years after David was dead. In
illustrating the " eye of the needle " through
which the camel with difficulty passed, he
makes it the literal eye of the literal needle,
generally " a fine cambric needle, boj^s," in-
stead of the " needle's eye " in the city wall.
The boys think that the rich man would
indeed have a hard time of it, getting to
heaven. When he tells about Paul at the feet
of Gamaliel, the idea received by the boys is
that of a very small and youthful Paul sitting
on a little stool before the wise teacher of
the law, who sits on a high and stately chair.
He omits in illustrating the parable of the
Good Samaritan, to say that the oil was
poured into the sufferer's wounds, and the
wine into his mouth. The boys get the idea
that the wine with the oil was poured into
the wounds, which would have made the poor
fellow additionally uncomfortable.

This teacher would be a very useful man,
if he would only build upon his good foun-
dation. The foundation laid in youth and in

110 THE TRADITIONAL TEACHER.

by -go lie years, is good as far as it goes. Bat
a cellar can never be let for a family tene-
ment, if there is no superstructure to it. It
must be built up, story after story, till it be-
comes a house. Then it will rent. Our Tra-
ditional friend must remember that with all
tlie objectionable novelties of late years, there
are many good ideas and practices worthy of
his attention.

CHAPTER XIX.

The Excellent Teacher.

ANY sheets of paper would be con-
sumed in fully describing the charac-
ter and habits of this useful Christian. Let it
suffice for the present to take a hasty glance
at him. It will be a pleasant task.

The place to find him during school hours,
is at his post of duty. He loves his work so
well that he makes his arrangements before-
hand to be regular and punctual. He does
not let his watch run down, does not lag in
bed two hours later on Sunday morning than
on other days, nor does he forget his prepara-
tions till so late an hour that he has to run
with dangerous speed lest he should be tardy
at school.

It is a pleasure to watch him while he is
at work. No cross words, no sour looks, no

112 . THE EXCELLENT TEACHER.

sarcastic speeches, mar the eiijoymciit which
the scholars feel in receivinar instructiou from
him. The youngsters love to be taught hy
him. Not because the teaching is all sugar-
plums and cai\dy, but that with the sweets of
kind manner they take in sound instructiou
and gospel education. When he asks them
questions, it is not to chuckle over their ig-
norance of the answers, or to prove that they
are indolent dunces, but to draw out what
knoAvledge they have, and to pave the way
for improvement in that in Avhich they are
deficient. "Speaking the truth in love," is
his motto. He gives them pure, sound, un-
diluted gospel, and gives it in such a way as
to make them relish it, and hunger and thirst
for more.

It need not be supposed that the kindness
which this teacher shows to his class, prevents
him from enforcing discipline. He knows
that one of the kindest acts he can perform
for them, is to show tlicm what they do wrong,
and how to do it riglitl}'. Mr. Spoon, who

THE EXCELLENT fEACIIER. 113

tGp.clies the class near by, does not believe in
exercising discipline on children, for fear of
hurting their feelings, and making them dis-
like him. Consequently his class is generally
in an uproar. Not so with the class of Mr.
Excellent. It is a model of decent behavior ;
and the boys have more respect and affection
for their teacher than Mr. Spoon's boys will
ever feel for theirs.

Excellent teacher is a man of enterprise.
While he has great respect for our forefathers
who compiled and used the " New-England
Primer," he does not believe that that good
book should be the principal staple of teach-
ing to the youth of the present day. He loves
and respects the hymns, question books, re-
ward tickets, and other helps, which were
used when he was a small boy ; yet, in the
present day of progress he would no more
confine himself to these, than he would go
from Boston to Washington by stage instead
of in the rail-road cars. Whatever is offered
in the way of improvement, he examines ; ac-

114 THE EXCEIJ.FXT TEACHER.

ceptiog it if good, rejecting it if of the style
of many of tiie catch-penny things which de-
signing inventors and pa])lishers palm ofl* on
the unsuspecting, as necessary and important
aids to their work.

When work is to be done, this teacher is
the man to do it. lie does not shirk his share
of labor, expense, or responsibility. He docs
not consent to be placed upon a committee
merely for the glory of it, with the under-
standing that the other members shall do the
Avork, or that they shall all leave it undone,
and then report "progress," as many commit-
tees do. He looks on this as a species of dis-
honesty and craftiness, which is disgraceful to
any professor of religion.

He is courteous in his dealings with his
fellovf -teachers. He loves them, and makes
them love him. More than this, he supports
the authorities of the school, and of the church.
You never hear him groaning or muttering
over some regulation which he does not like,
or at some action of the superintendent which
he would prefer to have otherwise.

THE EXCELLENT TEACHER. 115

Of his habits of visiting the scholai;s and
their parents, of his methods of dealing with
cross and rebellious children, of his studious
preparation for his class duties, of his neat-
ness and order in doing his work and in keep-
ing his books, a volume might be written.
One other trait in his character need only be
mentioned. " Behold he prayeth." His prayer-
ful spirit of devotion is the basis of all his ex-
cellence. He prays, as he labors for the con-
version of every boy in his class. He is sat-
isfied with nothing less than this. Faithful,
earnest, intelligent, arduous in his devotion
to his work, he hopes on, labors on, prays on,
encouraged now and then by seeing hopeful
conversions ; discouraged sometimes by their
absence ; but always trusting in the promise
of the Lord of the harvest, to whom he looks
for continued and final blessings on all his
labors.

. Teacher ! is the standard high ? Climb up
to it. Do not pull it down, that your ascent
may be easier. The better the reward, the

116 THE EXCELLENT TEACHER.

more worthy of wiuning. The higher the
calling, the more glorious the excellence of
{Attaining it.

SCHOLARS.

CHAPTER XX.

The Mischievous Scholar.

^ HE object of orcliuaiy teaching is to
So^ make some improvement in the condi-
tion of those who are taught, and to add to
their stock of general information. The
object of Sunday School teaching is, in
addition to this, to correct all evil ways, and
lead the pupil into the path of everlasting
life. In order that we may teach wisely, it
is necessary that we have a thorough under-
standing of the material we have to work
upon. If the children who come to be taught
are perfect in all their ways, they need no
teaching, and may be sent home to be good

118 THE MISCHIEVOUS SCHOLAR.

examples to the neigli])oring children. If
they are deficient, ignorant, or naughty, we
must try to give them such instruction and
correction as will conquer their faults and
overcome their ignorance. But we must not
deal with them at random. The physician
who blindly administers half a dozen reme-
dies of difierent kinds, and for different
diseases, all the while guessing to find out
what is the matter with the patient, is apt
to make bungling work of it, and, if the
disease is serious, to make a job for the un-
dertaker. The skilful physician finds out, to
the best of his ability, what is the matter with
the sick man, and then wisely administers the
proper remedies.

It is as much the duty of teachers to study
the character of their scholars, that they may
know how to teach them, and what to teach,
as it is the doctor's duty to find out what is
the matter with his patient before committing
to paper the medico -canine Latin which tells
the apothecary what nauseous mixture to
bottle up for the sufferer's relief.

THE MISCHIEVOUS SCHOLAR. 119

Let us, then, with this view — namely, what
is the matter with them, and how shall we
treat them — summon a few of our scholars
to stand in a row for their likenesses. And
first, as the lad is a little uneasy and restless,
let us dispose of

THE MISCHIEVOUS SCHOLAR.

He is not a positively vicious boy, yet his
desire for practical fun develops itself in
such a way that those who are annoyed by it
naturally think he is very bad. He goes to
Sunday School principally for the fun of it.
He has no religious understanding, and can
not discern things in a religious light. In-
struction seems to be wasted on him. Some
of the teachers shake their heads when his
name is mentioned, and say that he is a bad
boy. Others say that possibly something
may be made out of the fellow, yet. It is
true that his pranks are a great cause of dis-
turbance to the whole school. During prayer
time, he appears to be devoutly joining iu

120 THE MISCHIEVOUS SCHOLAR.

tliG prayer, but is furtively amusing himself
by creaking the bench so as to make a noise.
The superintendent has offered a reward for
the boy who thus annoys the school, but no-
body can find out who it is. Sometimes he
waits outside during the opening exercises,
to make a noise by stamping in just as the
lesson commences. He generally comes with
entire ignorance of where the lesson is, or
what it is about, and pretends to manifest a
great desire for information on both these
points. The information given him generally
appears to be thrown away. He is not fond
of study.

He is sharp and quick, and is sure to catch
his teacher in a blunder, if teacher makes any.
He considers this a great triumph over the
teacher, and arranges the tune and manner of
his triumph so that the rest of the class th ill
know it. If the teacher comes late, this boy
will crow over it for a mouth, and come late
for several Sundays himself, that he may
have the enjoyment of pleading his teacher's

THE MISCHIEVOUS SCHOLAR. 12 J

exiimple. In singing, he pretends that he does
not know the tune, hut is trying to learn it,
and makes such ludicrous attempts to learn,
that the other boys laugh, sometimes causing
the singing to break down, which amuses him
all the more.

This boy is apt to be a pest outside of the
Sunday School. He is not content with hiding
the superintendent's roll-book, putting ill-
smelling substances in the stove, and such
other bits of mischief as are confined to the
school, but he aims higher. He gets into
church. He ties the bell-rope up so high
in the steeple that the sexton cannot get it
down till after church time. The other day
he watched till the sexton should go into the
cellar for coal, and when in, turned the bolt
on him, and kept him there till church was
out. (The sexton and he are not good
friends.) Next Sunday he will probably tie
the handle of the organ bellows fiist, or per-
form some practical joke on the organist.

What is to be done with him ? " Turn him

122 THE MISCHIEVOUS SCHOLAR.

out ! " says old Mr. Crusty, who forgets that
half a century ago he was very much such a
boy. " Give him a good talking to," says Mr.
Dull, who would probably lecture the boy
forty minutes, if he would stand still so long.
"Bear with him, and try him a while," says
the good superintendent. True, he is a
nuisance. The school might seem to be bet-
ter without him. But the energy and smart-
ness which now show themselves only in these
naughty doings, may be the foundation of that
which, if properly guided, may be a very
useful character. Turn him out, and he is
lost. Keep him, show him that you love him,
and he will gradually cease his pranks. Tell
him distinctly that his mischief is all wrong,
but do not crush him. He must be " caught
with guile." Have patience with him.

CHAPTEE XXI.

The Lazy Scholar.

fN the morning he is a lag-a-bed. At noon
he stretches himself. In the evening he
gapes and yawns, and says he is tired. Of
course he is tired. The hardest work any-
body can have, is to have nothing to do. Our
young friend's difficulty arises not from hav-
ing nothing to do, but from being too lazy to
do anything.

What kind of a Sunday School boy does he
make? Poor enough. He comes sauntering
into school at about the same rate of speed as
the cows walk, when they are going home to
be milked. Only that he is not so punctual
as an orderly cow. He says that he and the
rest of the family had so much to do this
morning, that they could not get through it in
time. His teacher asks liim if they could not

123

124 THE LAZY SCHOLAR.

have accomplished it all in time by getting
Tip earlier. He is startled at the novelty of
the idea, and thinks it might be a good thing,
but says, like all other lazy people, that he
does the best he can. (What a common ex-
cuse that is for people who are too lazy or too
stubborn to mend their ways !)

It would be unreasonable to expect this
young person to learn any lessons. He is so
hard at work, doing nothing, that he has no
time to study or think. He comes to school
entirely unprepared. He tells the teacher that
the lesson was so hard. Teacher asks him if
he looked to see how hard it was, and finds
that he did not. The consequence of this
habit of neglect of study is, that he knows
less about the Bible than a decent Zulu does.

As misery loves company, according to the
old proverb, so ignorance and indolence love
company. Lazy boy is not well pleased at the
smart, bright chap who always knows his
lesson, and promptly answers all hard ques-
tions. So he tries to corrupt the other boys,

THE LAZr SCHOLAR. 125

and make them as idle as he is himself. If
he can put them up to any mischief, or induce
them to lounge outside of the school for half
an hour, instead of coming in punctually, he
thinks it is so much clear gain ; so much sav-
ed from the cause of religious education.

He has no habits of attention. He is some-
times civil and quiet while the teacher is
talking to him, but he does not heed. The
teacher might as well talk to a horse as to
this boy. A good dog would remember bet-
ter than the boy does. Boy does not thinh.
Never was in the habit of thinking. Does not
want to think. Does not see the use of giv-
ing attention. Cares not if he is as ignorant
ten years hence as he is to-day. And proba-
bly he will know as little then as now.

Is it not a thankless work to teach such a
boy ? And suppose you have a whole ckss of
them ? Better have a class of Newfoundland
dogs, or spaniels. The beasts would learn
more than the indolent boy.

What is he good for ? How shall we make

126 THE LAZY SCHOLAR.

him learn anything? He wants rod sing, push-
ing, stimulating. But how shall we get into
him? He is covered with indolence as with
a garment ; even as thick a garment as the
allio^ator's hide. But even alligator has some
weak spots. So this slow boy ma}^ be acces-
sible to some varieties of reward or punish-
ment. Try him first on the reward. Not to
reward him for being idle. That would be
unprofitable and expensive. Perhaps he may
be induced to do something worthy of reward,
or at least of commendation. Lead him that
far, and it is a great step in his progress.
But, if no reward will move him, apply a
stimulant of the hornet's nest order to him ;
give him a good dose of it, and mahe him
move on. There is hope for him, if he is
properly treated.

CHAPTER XXII.

The Precocious Scholar.

Vi HIS young gentleman is twelve years
^^ old. At five, he knew by heart the
Sermon on the Mount, the first chapter of
John, and the one hundred and nineteenth
Psalm ; all without missing a word. At sev-
en, he did sums in the rule of three, and sev-
eral other rules. Now he knows by rote the
whole book of Isaiah, nearly all the New Tes-
tament, and a great many Psalms ; also a
great variety of addresses, dialogues, and
other semi-religious literature. The other
children look upon him as a miracle of wis-
dom.

He is pale, lantern-jawed, and stoop-should-
ered. His eyes have not the cheerful sparkle
that a boy's eyes should have. He does not
know how to shout, to run, to spin a top, to

128 THE PRECOCIOUS SCHOLAR.

swim, or to row a boat. He aud his parents
regard all suoli exercises as the portion of
rude and naughty boys. In school and in so-
ciety he conducts himself with great decorum,
and is always a perfect gentleman in his man-
ners. He smiles pleasantly, when there is
occasion to smile, but you never hear his
voice ringing out in a hearty laugh. He sings
with gentility, and is master of several very
difncult tunes.

On anniversary occasions, (or, as they are
generally called now, exhibitions,) this boy is
exhibited as a premium article of scholarship.
He makes a speech, or rather, recites a piece,
sometimes a solo, sometimes .a diah^gue with
one or more boys. This exhibition of his
mnemonic and oratorical ability, gives great
pleasure to his relations, but others think it
ver}^ ridiculous. His parents think that this
display of talent at so early an age, will cer-
tainly make him a professor or a judge, Vv^hen
he shall be a man. The superintendent of the
Sunday School wishes that the parents would

THE PRECOCIOUS SCHOLAR. 129

not crowd the boy forward on public occa-
sions, and is certain that their unwise forcing
will be the death of him, long before he is
big enough to fill the chair of the thinnest
professor.

The other boys have but little respect for
our precocious friend. Well do they know
that their stock of knowledge is inferior to
his ; but yet there is something about his
manner which repels rather than invites their
cordial good feeling. They have various
nick-names for him, some of which imply
their disregard for his attainments. One of
them is "Old Stilts." These annoy him very
much, and he lets them see it. Of course,
the more they see he is annoyed, the more
they try to vex him. The consequence is,
that they become to a great extent, enemies,
and the line between friendship and enmity
seems to be drawn as if between learning and
Ignorance. He gradually acquires the idea
that he is better and wiser than the other
boys, and that they are a company of shame-
less scape-graces.

130 THE PRECOCIOUS SCHOLAR.

A word of advice may be in season to this
learned boy, his teacher, and the family of
which he is a member. The boy is on the
road to the sick bed, the insane asylum, or the
grave.

Turn over a new leaf. Enough learning
has been pumped into the poor creature to
last for several years to come. He wants ex-
ercise, recreation, and fresh air. He wants
less brain work, and more muscle work.
Don't take all his books away from him, for
that will make him very miserable. But take
all except two or three. Take him away from
school for a while, and put him on a farm. If
he can be made to work for his living, so
much the better. Make him rise early in the
morning, and retire early in the evening, after
a good day's work, and a light supper. Give
him a good straw-bed (the best thing a human
being can sleep on,) and see that the window
is so fixed that plenty of fresh air comes into
the room. If there is a pony on the premises,
teach him how to ride " bare back." Make

THE PRECOCIOUS SCHOLAR. 131

him play as well as work. Make him laugh
as well as look solemn. Soon " Old Stilts '*
will be like other boys ; his cadaverous cheeks
will fatten and display a little rosy healthful-
ness. His step will have a boyish vigor in it.
He will forget his accomplishment of a few
hard tunes, and go singing all round the farm.
He will enjoy his life. Then, when you have
made him something like a boy should be,
start again. Give him a moderate course of
books, combined with a moderate course of
exercise. But see that the exercise does not
consist in solitary hours of swinging dumb-
bells, or climbing a pole in the dark garret.
That is a dismal business. Make it cheerful-
and social, and it will work the desired end.

What has all this to do with Sunday Schools ?
Simply this, that if we want to do good to the
souls of our children, we must see that the
earthly tabernacle in which the soul lives, is
in such tenantable order that the soul can
thrive m it. If professors, judges,' and min-
isters are to be raised up from our Sunday

132 THE PRECOCIOUS SCHOLAR.

Schools, let us take care to raise up not lean-
fleshed, cadaverous prodigies of stufied wis-
dom, but men with healthy bodies and vigor-
ous minds, who shall be a credit to a nation
of freemen, and to the church of Christ.

CHAPTEK XXIII.

The Rebellious Scholar.

T the time of the opening of school, he is
not in his seat. The teacher experiences
a feeling of relief on account of his absence,
and goes so far as to hope that he has taken
a notion into his head to stay away ; for he
well knows that if snch a notion has taken
possession of the boy, nobody can make him
come to school. So far as the order and com-
fort of the school are concerned, it would be
a good thing if he would not come at all.
But, as Sunday Schools are not only for the
orderly and pious, but for the unrighteous and
disobedient, we have to put up with him, and
throw open the door for him as well as for
the good boys whom he disturbs.

The teacher's feeling of relief at his absence
is of short duration. During the opening

134 THE REBELLIOUS SCHOLAR.

prayer, a smart banging is heard at the door,
which gives notice of the rebellious disciple's
wrath at being locked out. The door being
opened in due time, in he strides, pounding
his heavy boots on the floor in such w^a}^ as
to announce to the whole school that he has
come, and is determined to annoy somebody.
The superintendent requests him, as he passes
in front of the desk, to make less noise. He
pauses for a moment, and looks defiantly at
the head of the school, making a face at him,
as much as to say, " Who are you ? " (The
superintendent is an amiable man, or he might
. thrash him.) On he pushes, and presently
reaches his seat, into which he descends with
the well-adjusted violence of a steam-ham-
mer. He frowns, pouts, and growls at who-
ever did him the injustice to lock him out.
He begins to abuse his teacher for having a
special grudge against him, and continues by
abusing the other boys for various matters, on
which there is a difference of opinion between
himself and them. His obstinate and disor-

THE REBELLIOUS SCHOLAR. 135

derly conduct has made him a public charac-
acter and a public nuisance in the school.

He delights to make a disturbance. Up-
setting any of the teacher's plans he consid-
ers a feat worthy of any risk in performing.
Insulting the superintendent afibrds him great
pleasure. When a speech is made, especially
if it is a dull speech, he applauds violently
with his boots, sometimes adding a shrill
whistle, which he learnt from the boys at the
theatre. During the singing, he likes to con-
fuse the musicians by volunteering all sorts
of uncouth noises. He is beyond quiet mis-
chief. He would scorn sly pranks on the
officers of the school or his fellow-scholars,
preferring to set the whole concern at open
defiance. He defies them to make him be-
have himself, to convert him, or even to teach
him anything. He is determined to be trouble-
some, and determined not to learn.

Why then does he go to Sunday School?
Can it be a pleasure to him? The good
things of the Sunday School are no pleasure

136 THE REBELLIOUS SCHOLAR.

to him. He goes because he cau misbehave
as much as he wants to. The only thing he
enjoys is his victory over law and order.

Would not the school be better without
him than with him? Yes, so far as that is
concerned, it might be wise to turn him out.
But the worse he is, the more he needs to go
to school. He needs the teachings of the
gospel. If anything ever will subdue his re-
bellious spirit, it will he the power of the
gospel working upon him. It is the interest
of the church and the community that he
should not grow up as he is. If he is turned
out of Sunday School, he will probably make
a straight road to the gallows.

What, then, is to be done with him? Go
and have a good talk with his parents, says
somebody. The difficulty there is that he has
got ahead of his parents, and they can do
nothing with him. They mourn over his
badness, but sadly shake their head« when it
is suggested that they should mend him.
They let him have his o^\'ll way when he was

THE REBELLIOUS SCHOLAR. 137

a little boy, (which was exactly what he
wanted, and now wants,) and now they
cannot make him mind their way. They
thought they were so kind to him. They so
tenderly spared his feelings, instead of giving
him a sound switching when he was naughty.

Tame him. That is what must be done
with him. " Tame him? " says teacher ; " why,
I would rather try to tame a bison." Then he
must have another teacher. He needs a good,
kind, firm, able-bodied and able-minded
teacher, who will love him, yet hold him
with a strong hand. He must l)e tamed as
the great Rarey tames horses. Show him that
you love him, and are working for his good,
both of body and soul ; but let him under-
stand that you have entire control over him,
and that you mean to exercise it, if necessary.
As you are taming him, put in a little gospel
instruction from time to time, increasing in
amount as you get him tamer and tamer.

The boy will be an earnest boy, and when
he grows up, will be an earnest man. He will

138 THE REBELLIOUS SCHOLAR.

probably be a very bad man, or else a very
good man. A very useful man, or a continual
nuisance. But it all depends on how he is
treated now.

Look well to him, teacher. With prayerful
patience, firmness and diligence, he may be
made a Christian.

m

CHAPTER XXIV.

The Careless Scholar.

TTER indifference to everything that is
going on, is the most prominent charac-
ter of the young man who stands before us.
He is always satisfied, and offers no special
opposition to anything, good or bad. " Don't
care," is the rule of his life, so far as his life
goes according to rule. But he does not be-
lieve in rules |p.nd regulations of any kind,
thinking them rather a hindrance than a help.
Of course he is neither regular nor punctual
in his attendance at Sunday School. He does
not care whether he is early or late, whether
he is present or absent. He considers it no
disgrace to be habitually late, and no loss to
be absent for several Sundays at a time. As
he does not care whether he knows his lessons
or is ignorant of what they are about, he can-

139

140 THE CARELESS SCHOLAR.

not be expected to devote much time to their
study. He loses his question-book, Bible, and
hymn-book, as he has no regular place to put
them in, and thinks it Avould be too much
trouble to provide such a place. He does not
care whether the teacher is pleased with him
or not, and so does not put himself out of the
way to do what teacher requires of him. He
does not value the good esteem of the other
scholars, even of those who are the most stu-
dious and orderly. The prosperity or failure
of the school, is a matter w^hich he does not
concern himself about, and it never occurs to
him that his good or bad conduct may make
the school better or worse. The fact that he
knows no more about the Bible now than he
did live years ago, does not trouble him, for
he considers it to be exclusively the duty of
the teachers and the minister to understand
about that. He does not see why they should
bother him with it. His duties to his parents
are performed in a negligent wa}^ which seems
to indicate that the parents have been some-

THE CARELESS SCHOLAR. 141

what negligent in the use of the rod to make
him mind what was told him. Perhaps that
is the root of much of the diiliciilty.

His jiersonal habits are such as to make it
hard to get along with him. If he has a watch,
he frequently neglects to wind it, and, when
he does wind it, sets it by guess. If he would
wash his hands, he neglects to scrub the dirt
from them. When he puts on his garments
he does not give that thoughtfal attention to
strings, pins and buttons, that a careful and
tidy person does. He parts wdth his pocket
money in such a slip-shod manner, that he
never has anything to put into the missionary
box. When the box goes round, he says he
didn't think about it. When he sits down to
study his Sunday School lesson, which is very
seldom, he groans several times over the task
which is before him, then concludes that he
■will postpone it till Saturday evening, and
take some exercise now, which he very much
needs. Of course he finds something else to
do on Saturday evening, or else he cannot

142 THE CARELESS SCHOLAR.

find his books. His habits on Sunday are the
same as other days. In a year he has lost
half a dozen hymn books, and question books
uncounted. The books which he has on hand
are dog-eared, soiled, and broken-backed.
He says that it is not much matter how the
books look, if one only learns w^hat is inside
of them. (N. B. People who are slovenly in
keeping their books, seldom know a great
deal about what is in them.)

This lad is a very undesirable scholar in
every respect. Instruction seems to be thrown
away on him. The teacher may instruct, ex-
hort, expound, argue, an(? lend him good
books. He will not listen to what is said to
him, and when he takes books, it is only to
soil or lose them, or to return them unread.
In the latter case he often says they are very
interesting. He pretends to listen, and pre-
tends to read, but his mind is off on a butter-^
fly buzz, while his outer man is in a position
of attention. Ask him to-day, what you told
him yesterday, and he has forgotten. He say a

THE CAKELESS SCHOLAR. 143

the minister preached an uncommonly fine
sermon last Sunday, but ask him what it was
about, or where the text was, and you soon
discover that he knows nothing about it.
Send him on an errand, and before he is out
of sight he has forgotten the message you
gave him. And the worst of it is, that with
all his absent-minded thoughtlessness, he is
so pleasant and so polite, that you do not like
to box his ears, or treat him exactly as you
would treat the violently bad boy. But he is
really harder to deal with than the quarrel-
some and disorderly.

The sum of his arguments and excuses for
his various short-comings, is ^^ DidnH think. ^'
He thinks it is enough. Nobody else thinks
so, though.

I once heard an aged negro slave pray, after
sermon, "Oh, Lord, please to mind and make
us remember to try and not forget de word
of de gospel what we jist done listened to.'*
If the careless scholar will earnestly pray
such a prayer, and follow it up, there is hope
for him.

CHAPTER XXV.

The Too Big Scholar.

IHE is fast attaiuiiig the stature of man.

^ Several preliminary liairs sprout on his
upper lip. His voice is no longer the squeak
of infancy, or the treble of boyhood, but is
changiug to a manly bass. He has cast aside
his former round jackets, and arrayed him-
self in a coat with amply flowiug skirts and
other indications of manhood. His head is
made uncomfortable by the presence of a
high -crowned hat, and his mind is disturbed
by fear of accident to the shining, silky sur-
face of the same. Some of the younger boys
have threatened to throw water upon it. As
he is passing through that very ticklish
period of life in which his full manhood may
be questioned, he is very particular about

THE TOO BIG SCHOLAR. 145

having it understood that he is no longer a
bo J, but a 77han.

He makes up his mind that the surest way
of proving to the world that he is a man, is
to hold no more associations with boys. So
he seriously considers whether or not he can
afford to go to Sunday School any more. He
does not break off at once, for he has a
struggle with himself about it. He used to
love the school. He commenced in the infant
department. The gray-haired mother in
Israel, who was in the prime of life when he
was her three-year old scholar, often speaks
of what a good little boy he used to be. The
teachers under whose charge he was, while in
the larger school, feel kindly towards him,
and hope that he is not going to leave. And
he knows that he ought not to finish his re-
ligious education now. But the young men
with whom he keeps company sneer so much
at the school, that they have almost persuaded
him never to set foot within its doors again.
So he comes sometimes, and stays away some-

146 TTIE TOO BIO SCHOLAR.

times, feeling quite ill at ease about it, de-
vising weak excuses for his absence, and
giving every reason but the real one. He
still retains a nominal connection with the
Bible class, of which he has been a member
for a year or two. But he and the Bible class
seem to be of little advantage one to the other.
He has grown in bodily stature, rather than in
Biblical knowledge, during his stay in it.

Is this young man to be saved, or to be
thrown overboard? Is he worth keeping, or
shall we frown at him, and induce him to
prefer staying away from school ?

We want him. We cannot afford to lose
him. There is work for him to do. " He do
any work?" says an unbelieving teacher.
The idea has obtained currency that the
young man is above work. He needs more
teaching than he has had, and especially the
kind of teaching which will show him how to
work. The teacher who will succeed in
making him learn anything more than he
already knows, will succeed in a very hard
task. Such teachers are scarce.

THE TOO BIG SCHOLAK. 147

How and where shall we teach him ?

How ? Gather all such young persons into
a class by themselves, and put them under the
care of the kindest and most judicious man
that can be found. Not a long-winded man,
who will weary them with tedious preaching ;
not a dismal man, who will drive them away
with his doleful exhortations ; not an austere
man, who will shake his head, and make grim
faces at them; but a good, warm-hearted
Christian, a man of tact and enterprise. One
who remembers that he was once a young
man, passing through this critical state, will
do better than one of the stately sort, who
never was young.

Where? In a room by themselves. The
neatest, prettiest and most commodious room
'that can be had. If there is not one, build it
without a week's delay. You cannot invest
its cost in a more paying enterpjdse. Let it
be light and cheerful ; clean, comfortable and
attractive. A neat book-case, containing a
moderate libraiy, is indispensable. Furnish

148 THE TOO BIG SCHOLAR.

the walls with good maps and charts, T\hich,
if the teacher understands using them, will
afford a ceaseless fund of proiital)le instruction.
In this private room of their own, they can
enjoy freedom from what is to them the irk-
some restraint imposed on little children.
They can sing their own hymns, and that as
noisily as they please. They can call them-
selves the men's class, if they like the name.
They can be saved from being nuisances to
the church people, whom they would other-
wise annoy by hanging around the doors,
gates, and curb-stones. They can be kept
from vicious associates, who would drag them
to ruin. And when they graduate from the
grown-up class, it will not be to break loose
from instruction and religion, and become
Sabbath vagabonds, but to re-enter as teach-
ers the same rooms in which they were for-
merly little boys, and in their turn to engage
in the good work of teaching youthful sinners
the way of salvation.

CHAPTER XXYI.
The Scholar who Does Not Learn.

CHE lad is tolerably regular in his attend-
ance at Sunday School, and cannot be
complained of for disorderly or rebellious
conduct. In many things he is a pattern for
the other scholars. He seems to learn. He
often knows his lesson, or at any rate has a
sort of external acquaintance with it. On
special occasions, if a prize is to be struggled
for, he stru2:i?les, and sometimes wins. If a
public examination or exhibition is to be had,
he stuffs himself with sufficient knowledge to
stand very creditably in the eyes of the spec-
tators. He can commit by rote a great many
verses of Scripture, when it is necessary. So
he acquires a reputation for scholarly habits,
and thorough Biblical education. In connec-
tion with this, and on account of it, he as-

150 THE SCHOLAR WHO DOES NOT LEAEN.

sumes a certain degree of superiority over the
boys who, not liaving been specially stufied,
omitted to win prizes, to speak speeches, or
to recite, with parrot-headed volubility, pro-
digious amounts of Scripture verses.

But, with all the show of learning, the
}^oung man really learns little or nothing ;
frequently nothing at all. Six months after
he has gained a prize, he has forgotten exact-
ly what the prize was for, even though it was
got after much cramming. He cannot recol-
lect what it was that was crammed into him.
Though he may learn several thousand verses
of the Bible, his shallow memory has not
taken hold of a single important truth or doc-
trine. Though he appears to give respectful
and even earnest attention to the preacher,
the preaching produces no more effect on him
than rain-water does on the feathers of a
healthy goose.

Look at him when he becomes a big boy ;
almost a man. He is going to leave the
school ; he is too old to be taught any more.

THE SCHOLAR WHO DOES NOT LEARN. 151

He has been receiving instruction since he
was five years old. He ought to know some-
thing. Examine him. Ask the difference
between the Mosaic dispensation and the
Christian. " They didn't teach us that." Ask
some of the particulars of Jewish sacrificial
rites. He knows no more about them, than
he does of the religious ordinances of the
Digger Indians, nor does he care for one more
than for the other. See what he knows of
our Saviour's life and ministry. It is all a
blank. Ask him when Israel seceded from
Judah, and how many kings each nation had.
He never troubled himself about that either ;
didn't suppose it was important. The names
of the Apostles ? "I am not good at remem-
bering names." No ; he is not good at any-
thing. He has neglected his privileges ; has
despised his opportunities. He came to the
feast when the tables were spread with good
things, but left them there and went away
hungry and empty ; and he will continue in a
condition of mental and religious emptiness

152 THE SCHOLAR WHO DOES NOT LEARN.

all his life, if he does not change his course.
Although he has beeu a regular and well be-
haved scholar, his disregard of instruction has
been as great as that of the boy who spends
his Sundays in skating, swimming, or going
for chestnuts.

What is the matter with him ? Simply one
thing. He lacks application. Instead of
studiously applying himself to what was be-
fore him, with a determination to master it, he
has been dreamily napping away the precious
hours of instruction, only waking up once in
a while to stretch himself and stuft* in a little
show of learning. He has supposed that the
machinery of the Sunday School would some-
how or other pound learning into him, in
spite of his absent-minded thoughtlessness
and wandering inattention. He expected to
wake up some day and find himself a well
instructed person. If he does not wake up,
the probability is, that he will be a dunce all
his life.

His condition has all along been one of

THE SCHOLAE WHO DOES NOT LEARN. 153

passive reception. He has received much.
He has given nothing. He has had vast
heaps of instruction poured into him. He
has never poured any of it out on others. It
never occurred to him that he might make
use of his learnin2: as he went alonsr. It has
gone in at his ears and out at the top of his
head. Had it gone out by his mouth, some-
body might have been the better for it ; some
younger brother, or sister, or an ignorant
parent, perhaps. But it has all evaporated ; it
has been wasted, as fine perfumery is wasted
when care is not taken to cork the bottle. If
the bottle is well corked, and the perfumery
let out in appropriate quantities, it performs
its pleasant mission. If it is thoughtlessly
left open, or spilled on the ground, it fails to
accomplish that for which it was made.

All the instruction that can be thrust into a
boy will do him no good, except with careful
intellectual digestion. As food, swallowed
in large chunks and in such quantities as to
be impossible to digest, will ruin the physical

154 THE SCHOLAE WHO DOES AOT LEARN.

constitution, so will undigested learning prove
to be only so much trash, clogging the mind,
and rendering it unfit for the noble and holy
purposes for which the Creator designed it.
" Fools despise wisdom and instruction."

CHAPTEE XXVII.

The First-Rate Scholar.

E all love him. He is popular in the
school, and with all who knoM^ him.
We love him because he not only says, like
the heedless child, that he tries to do the best
he can, but because he really does try, and
tries in such a way as to succeed. He shows
that his kind of trying means going ahead,
and doing.

He comes to school regularly, not looking
all the time for weak excuses for staying at
home. His headaches and other diseases do
not come on, as is the case with some of the
other children, just in time to keep him from
school. And he so thoughtfully arranges his
matters at home, that he is in his seat a few
minutes before the time for the opening of
school. These few minutes are spent in some

155

.156 THE FIRST-RATE SCHOLAR.

quiet preparation for the duties which are
before him, sometimes the choice of a library
book, sometimes a little refreshment of mem-
ory on the lesson of the clay. He takes no
part in the exercise which is engaged in and
enjoyed by some ill-bred boys, of tossing caps
and books at each other, till the teachers
come.

There is no mistaking what he has come
for. Not ta yawn, to idle, to disturb the
school, or to chat with his friends. But to
learn. He knows no other good reason for
coming to Sunday School. While he is in
school, he makes the most of his time. He
feels that he cannot ailbrd to lose a moment,
or an opportunity of picking up the smallest
piece of information. He does not look on
the work of gaining knowledge as a disagree-
able task, nor does he think he is doing a
smart thing in cheating the teacher out of a
recitation. With attentive ears and open
heart, he takes in the good word of instruc-
tion, trying to remember all that he is told.

THE FIEST-RATE SCHOLAR. 157

It is, consequently, a pleasure to teach him.
Entirely different from the heavy work of
teaching the dull, stupid creature whose
thoughts are in the streets or fields, while his
absent-minded body is pretending to give
heed to what is being spoken.

The First-Rate Scholar makes some use of
his learning as he goes along. He reflects
that both his teacher and himself have spent
time and labor on it ; the one in preparing
and teaching it ; the other in receiving and
storing it away. So, instead of throwing it
away, or bottling it up for old age or posteri-
ty, he increases its usefulness by imparting
some of it to others. He likes to tell his sis-
ters and brothers what he knows. He has in-
troduced a great deal of Bible knowledge into
the family, has taught Johnny Stupid his
letters, and is teaching Bets}^ Dull how to read.
He finds that all this helps him, and makes
him enjoy better what he learns.

He uses his Bible well. He keeps a little
Bible in his pocket, and pulls it out in church

158 THE FIRST-RATE SCHOLAR.

and in Sunday School, when the Bible is read
or referred to. Consequently he knows, (as
John Lag-a-bed in the next class does not
know,) exactly where to turn when a chapter
and verse are mentioned. He does not look
in the New Testament for the Minor Prophets,
nor in the Old for the Epistle to the Hebrews.
He has not only acquainted himself with the
localities of chapters and verses, but the saving
truths which these chapters and verses teach,
have made a deep impression on his heart.

When he grows up, he will make a good
teacher. He is not of the sort of boys who
wander away from school as soon as they
think they are almost men. He loves the
school and its work so well that as soon as he
is old enough to teach, he will take hold of the
work, and do for other youngsters what has
been done for him during his youth.

Oh ! for more like him ! Teacher, you can
have them if you want them. Good teachers
will make good scholars. Not that every re-
bellious, stupid, indifferent child can be at

THE FIEST-EATE SCHOLAR. 159

once turned into a model of diligence in learn-
ing, and excellence in deportment ; but that
patient, kind, judicious, prayerful labor with
even the hardest and dullest, will improve
them, and lead them on from carelessness and
ignorance to something of an approach to what
they ought to be.

Teacher ! up with the standard of teach-
ing ! It is not high enough. Let us not be
satisfied with merely going to our classes and
sitting there, year after year, accomplishing
nothing. Let us not be satisfied with the fact
that the children are willing to come and drone
through a certain amount of dull exercises,
flavored with a few thunder and lightning
hymns to relieve the monotony of it. But
let us work for a higher degree of excellence
in every branch of Sunday School attainment,
and above all, labor for nothing short of the
conversion to God of every child placed under
our care.

SPEAKERS

CHAPTEK XXVni.

Sunday School Speech-Making.

Y\T HE business of making speeches to Sun-
^£jJ clay School children, has risen in magni-
tude within the last few years, till it is now
one of the prominent adjuncts of juvenile re-
ligious education. Twenty years ago it was
comparatively a rare thing to hear an address
in Sunday School. The idea of showing polite-
ness to a visitor by inviting him to inflict a
talk on the school, without regard to his abil-
ity to interest the children, never then occur-
ed to superintendents. Once in a long while,
a missionary, just returned from the end of
the world, or some other place, would oiFer

160

SUNDAY SCHOOL SPEECH-MAKING. 161

an account of what he had done and seen.
Occasionally the agent of some " cause " would
have a brief hearing. But the institution of
speech-making, as it now exists in our Sun-
day Schools, was then almost unknown. It
has gradually risen, and worked its way up
to such a degree of respectability and promi-
nence, that children have learned to look for
a speech from somebody, good, bad, or indif-
ferent, as a matter of course ; just as butter
is expected with bread, or sugar with tea and
coffee. It is especially within the last five or
six years, that this business has increased and
multiplied on our schools.

Making a speech to a company of Sunday
School children, is productive of good or evil,
according to whether the speech is good or
bad. A stirring, earnest speech, on the sub-
ject of their lesson, or on some subject con-
nected with it, may wisely be thrown in, at
almost any session. A speech which is on
no subject at all, or on something which calls
the youthful thoughts away from what they

162 SUNDAY SCHOOL SrEECH-MAKING.

have been studying, is a nuisance which ought
to be abated. A wise man may rise at an
appropriate time, and offer some remarks
which may be productive of good ; some stu-
pid or silly orator follows him, and the chil-
dren forget all that the good man told them.
Or, when the children have finished the ap-
pointed time for study, and are ready to go
home, some tedious speech-maker mounts the
platform, and lets his thoughts loose for the
space of half an hour. The thought of inter-
esting his hearers, has not occurred to him.
All he cares for is that he may have a hear-
ins:. All that his wearied hearers care for is
that he may get done as soon as possible, and
let them go home. Of course such a speech
is nothing but a nuisance.

The principal object of speech-making, is
supposed to be to do the children some good,
and so to glorify God. But the hearers of
one hundred Sunday School speeches, might
well wonder if ninety of them were delivered
with any object in view ; or, if the speakers

SUNDAY SCHOOL SPEECH-MAKING. 163

had any object, what it was. One speaker
may utter a deUghtfiil string of talk, made up
of stories and illustrations. It interests the
children, and, at first thought, would seem to
be a useful address ; but when you try to di-
gest it, the stories seem to be without point,
and the illustrations not brought in for the
sake of illustrating anything in particular.
Another speaker spends his time in saying
things to make the children laugh. He suc-
ceeds in that, for children are easily amused,
and will sometimes laugh if the speaker only
makes a funny face at them. It would not ])e
a great calamity if some able-bodied Chris-
tian should take hold of the man who speaks
only for the sake of buffoonery, and violently
put him out. It would, at least, save a repe-
tition of the foolishness, by the same man, on
the same set of children.

Verily our poor children are imposed upon
with a great variety of this kind of entertain-
ment. For every really excellent speech that
is made, it is safe to say there are ten which

164 SUNDAY SCHOOL SPEECH-MAKING.

fail to iccomplish any good. The amount of
profitable instruction conveyed in the majority
even of delightful speeches, is exceedingly
slender. It is astonishing to see how much
chalf we give the little people, in order that
they may have a gTain or two of wheat. We
torture them by making them listen to all
sorts of people who have not the gift of in-
structing or entertaining them. The long-
winded man, whose stream of volubility flows
like so much carburetted hydrogen ; the an-
ecdote man, with his hungry and pointless
stories ; the illustrative man, who uses a
great many illustrations to illustrate nothing ;
the man of one pet idea, who continuously
ventilates that idea alike before old age and
youth ; the man who has only one speech,
which he uses on all occasions ; the dull man,
who puts us to sleep ; the stupid man, to
whose di ^course we cannot by any possibility
give attention ; the disagreeable man, to whom
we do not want to attend ; the tiresome man,
to whom we listen only in the hope that he

SUNDAY SCHOOL SPEECH-MAKING. 165

will soon be done ; the gloomy man, who
renders religion as terrible as possil^le to the
children ; all these men find their way into
onr Sunday Schools, wdth a degree of enter-
prise and pertinacity which would be com-
mendable if their labors were well and wisely
put forth. It requires great firmness in the
superintendent to avoid having all these people
inflict themselves on the school, and some-
body's feelings are hurt when he neglects or
refuses to invite one who is known to be an
unprofitable orator, who has come expecting
to have his say.

Let us have a speech-meeting. In the chapr
ters which follow, we will listen to some of
the Sabbath School orators, who endeavor to
communicate 4heir ideas to the youth of our
land.

CHAPTER XXIX.

The Pompous Speaker.

^]%yiTH self-satisfied strut, graceful flour-

ish of pocket handkerchief, and loud
blast from his nostrils upon the same, this
gentleman takes his position upon the platform.
It is Sabbath afternoon. A monthly appoint-
ment for laying aside the regular lesson of
the day, and hearing speeches about mis-
sionary matters. The gentleman has come
for the purpose of being one of the speakers.
He looks round with patronizing air on the
company whom he is to address, clears his
throat, says "h'm," several times, and pro-
ceeds :

" My dear young friends : Let me observe,
as a preliminary, that I must have perfect si-
lence while I address you. You must bestow
on me your undivided attention, and not be

THE POMPOUS SPEAKER. 16^

guilty of disorderly conduct or confusion.
If you interrupt me while I am addressing
you, or signify by your inattentive deportment
that you do not appreciate my remarks, I
shall be obliged, though reluctantly, to bring
my address to a conclusion."

He has by this time succeeded in getting
their eyes and mouths pretty well open, from
curiosity as to what is coming next. He
continues :

" My dear children : I am very glad to see
you all here this afternoon. I have from my
earliest childhood experienced a deep solici-
tude for the welfare of the young and rising
generation. The sight of a little child,
awakens in my heart a warm interest for the
whole family of infantile humanity. I see
them with the world before them ; with its
hopes and fears, its dangers and its troubles,
all unknown to them. I gaze upon, their fu-
ture, but 0, what a gaze ! My youthful
hearers, the Sunday School is infufsed with a
spirit of profound conviction in certain fun-

168 THE POMPOUS SPEAKER.

damental truths. The Sunday School looks
to the indoctrination of the youthful heart in
all the divine attributes. It contemplates the
entire sanctification of every child of Adam " —
Here the superintendent ought to step up
to the man and tell him that the children do
not understand a word of what he is telling
them ; but he is a little afraid of hurting the
stately person's feelings, and so suffers him
to plunge on. He proceeds, and after talking
a great deal about himself, a little about the
Sunday School, Adam's fall, and several other
things, presently gets into the thick of his
speech. He is more pompous than at first.
His flourish of speech and flourish of pocket
handkerchief, are both on the increase. He
uses words of great length, and very hard to
be understood. The most of his hearers do
not understand the speech at all. And it
would be no loss, except the loss of time con-
sumed in uttering it, if nobody understood it.
It is inflated fustian. It is ornamental dull-
ness. It is heavy frothiness. It is not on

THE POMPOUS SPEAKER. 169

any subject in particular. The great man was
announced to speak on something connected
with the object for which the meeting was
held ; but he cannot lower himself to that.
He understands that several other persons are
to speak, and he will let them attend to that
part.

At last, long after the proper time, he brings
his remarks to their promised close. Those of
his hearers who are still awake, have been
looking forward to this moment with pleasur-
able expectation. The sleepers care not
how long he keeps on. He has settled them.
He wipes his massive brow, parades down
from the platform, takes his seat on an honor-
able chair, and looks round on the exhausted
victims of his address, as much as to say,
" Wasn't that a magnificent speech ? "

Truly magnificent. " The pomps and
vanity of this wicked world, and all the
sinful lusts of the flesh." Very fine stufi" to
blow the trumpet with, but very poor fare
for hungry and starving young souls.

170 THE POMPOUS SPEAKEK.

There are some men who do this pompous
sort of talking for the sake of making a dis-
play, but there are others who do it because
they do not know better. They have heard
a great orator or two, and think they ought
to speak as the great orator speaks. Mr.
Stuff, when addressing a Sunday School,
thinks he is Daniel Webster addressing the
Senate, and puts on airs accordingly. He
comes as near his model as a poodle dog
comes to his when he attempts to growl like a
lion.

If the pompous man ever does any good
with his gift of speaking, it will be after he
shall have laid aside all the feathers, gold
lace and brass buttons of his style. He must
speak with more simplicity, and must be sure
that what he utters is sound sense, instead of
a long string of empty nothings, covered up
with great swelling words of bombatjtic
pedantry.

CHAPTER XXX.

The Long-Winded Speaker.

CHIS man's discourse is sometliiiig like
the movements of a very slow steamboat.
The starting of the boat gives the passengers
some intimation that it will eventually come
to its journey's end. But there is no telling
how much time may be wearily consumed on
the passage. The hearers of the tiresome
orator believe that the end of his speech will
positively come at some time, even though it
be after a nap, or that unsatisfactory mixture
of sleeping and waking which every hearer
of heavy discourses fully understands. The
steamboat passengers have an advantage over
the hearers of the weary address ; they can
talk, eat, or read books, to while away the
tedium of the slowly passing time. The
hearers must either listen or sleep, for po-

172 THE LONG-WINDED SPEAKER.

liteness forbids other ways of passing the
time.

As the very slow steamboat makes a slow
business of getting started, so does the weari-
some speaker. It is not rapid work for him
to get up steam. The fire under his boiler
is not made in time, or the wood is green, or
there is not enough of it, or it is not judi-
ciously arranged in the furnace. It sputters
and cracks, and halts and heaves. His en-
gine starts with a confusing jerk. He mum-
bles his words and munches his sentences.
He does not get well oiled until the full head
of steam is on, and then the oil and steam
seem to keep together so closely that the
hearers can scarcely discern the one from the
other.

Two ministers were going together to a
preaching place in the country. As they rode
along, A said to B, "I suppose you don't
preach very long ; we think about half an
hour long enough." Said B, " Half an hour !
why, it takes me that long to get started."

THE LONG-WINDED SPEAKER. 173

Then, said A, " If it takes you that long, you
had better begin now, and you will be in good
speaking order when we get there." There is
a moral in this for the lengthy speaker. Get
up steam before you begin to speak, and so
save much of the time of your hearers. We
have no more right to take their time in
"getting underway," than we have to finish
dressing ourselves in the presence of the
guests whom we have invited to take tea
with us.

The speaker is in motion. Then what?
Now the difficulty is to stop him. It seems
as if the fountain of his speech were inexhaus-
tible. He has opened its flood-gates — who
shall close them? He plods on with great
industry, rolling out great lengths of good
and harmless talk, seeming to think that his
hearers ought to put up with its insufferable
lengthiness because it is pious truth. If any
were to tell him that they do not like the ex-
cellent stuff which he is giving them, he would
tell them of their natural depravity of heart.

174 THE L02<G- WINDED SPEAICER,

If objection is made to the length of his con-
tinnance, he ascribes it to an unholy longing
to be away from the sanctuary and to spend
the time in indolence at home. The drowsi-
ness of his audience does not annoy him.

This man may be tolerated once in a long
while, because he means well, and what he
says is not hurtful ; but when Mr. Empty
rises to make a long speech, it is insufferable.
His countenance says, "Now, here I am ; may
never have a chance to speak here again, and
you may never get another chance to hear
mc ; so I will keep on awhile." The coun-
tenances of the hearers say, " Do wish that
man had stayed away." Nobody cries, " Go
on ! go on !" as he brings his sayings to a close.
There is a general feeling of relief when he
stops, coupled with the hope that his voice
may never again be heard till he has some-
thing to say.

It is impossible to say exactly what should
be the outside length of an address to Sunday
School children, just as it is to prescribe a

THE LONG-WINDED SPEAKER. 175

limit to a sermon for adults. We could listen
to Tyng, Gough, Spurgeon, and many others
of less fame, for an hour and a half, while the
stupid imitator of Tyng, Gough or Spurgeon,
would put us to sleep, or disgust us, in ten
minutes. As a general thing, however, that
which takes over three-quarters of an hour to
deli\ er to grown people, or over half an hour
to children, is not reajembered. It may be
quoted as "very fine," or "really splendid,"
or " the best I ever heard," but the effect of
it is lost. Twenty minutes would be a bet-
ter general length than thirty. A speaker of
rare ability, or a very ridiculous one, may
succeed in interesting them for thirty minutes.

Two remedies may be prescribed. One to
be applied by the speaker, the other by the
Sunday School authorities.

The speaher. Condense. Get some good
phonographer to attend on your next speech,
and take down what you say. It will cost
you five dollars, which will be well spent, for
your own good, and the good of the commu-

176 TIIE LONG-WINDED SPEAKER.

nity. When the phonographer hands you
your speech, written out, you may be aston-
ished to find six or eight repetitions of what
need have been said but once ; also, several
things which you will stoutly insist you did
not say at all. Then strike out all the repeti-
tions, and all the diffuse stuff which you need
not have uttered, boil the remainder down,
and try the new production when you next ap-
pear in public.

The authorities. Never invite a man to
speak if you know him to be a long-winded
speaker. You have no right to trespass on
the endurance of the young people by inflict-
ins: such an entertainment on them. No mat-
ter who or w^hat he is, judge, doctor, elder,
distinguished foreigner, or brave general, if
he makes a long, tedious speech, he will do as
much harm as good. Provide sound, wise,
godly men to address your children, but re-
member that they must be spoken to with
earnestness, vigor, and brevity.

CHAPTER XXXI.

At the Convention.

fT is supposed by some persons, that the
post of chairman at a Sunday School con-
ve^ition is one of unadulterated honor, compli-
ment and enjoyment. Quite the contrary.
A good chairman is entitled to the life-long
gratitude of every member of the convention,
not only for v^hat he does, but for what he
suffers. He must listen to all that is spoken.
Others may yawn and slumber, but the chair-
man must keep awake. Others may attend
or not, as they choose, may talk to each other,
or to the ladies, or may read books, or news.^
papers, but the chairman must give ear to
every speech, however dreary, and, n\ust make
bold to stop the same when i^ exceeds the
appointed limits. All sorts of speakers rise
before him in turn, (and sometimes out of

3 78 AT THE CONTENTION.

their turn,) crying out, "Mister Chairman!"
His official title falls so often on his ears, that
he congratulates himself that it is not to
cleave to him for life, as do titles to ex-
governors, ex-professors and ex-military men.

First rises the clamorous speaker. He must
and will be heard, and that without waiting.
His utterances are very important, (in his
own estimation) , and therefore he is often on
the floor. If he over-runs his time, and the
chairman causes him to sit down, he says it
is all the same, and he will go on when the
next subject of debate is before the house. It
is a remarkable feature of his discourse that
it will answer for whatever is being discussed,
it being about as pertinent to one part as an-
other. Another feature is, that it will bear
thus being cut into lengths, like so much
stove-pipe, without injury.

The faint-voiced man would be heard. That
is, if anybody could hear him. If he is in a
position where the chairman's eye happens to
light on him, he succeeds in obtaining the

AT THE CONVENTION. 179

floor; otherwise he has to wait till others
who are more noisy, have got through. He
proceeds in a whisper or a squeak, till some-
body on the other side of the house complains
that the speech is not heard. Then he raises
his voice for a moment or two, as much as to
say, "Can't you hear that?" and relapses into
his inaudible mutter. What he says may be
very excellent, but it fails to instruct, inform,
or entertain those whose ears it does not reach.
Another variety of faint-voicedness, is when a
man consumes two minutes of a five-minute
speech in getting up his voice. It is to the
hearers something like beginning a book in
the middle. And yet another variety is the
utterance of one word out of every six in a
low tone. This is generally done for the sake
of solemnity, or to make an impression. The
speaker who does it should have blackboard
and chalk, to write for his hearers the words
to which he thus does injustice.

Then we hear from the statistical man. He
commences with the original observation that

180 AT THE CONVENTION.

figures will not lie, and forthwith brings in a
bundle of arithmetic large enough for a day's
study in a respectable grammar school. With
this he can prove anything, especially that
the speaker on the opposite side is wrong.
He is apt to mention that 659,687 pages of reli-
gious matter have been distributed, which
have been read by 6,789,568 men, women,
and children ; showing that each page has
been read by about lOj persons. In addi-
tion to this, he mentions a great many other
mmierical matters, the aggregate effect of
W'hich is to confuse the hearers. A man
who would furnish much of statistics, should
furnish the congregation with slates and pen-
cils. Better still to have them printed on
slips of paper. Always be sure they are reli-
able.

The flowery speaker ventilates his perfumed-
utterances. But he is in difficulty where the
allotted time for each speech is only five
minutes. He has hardly time to begin to get
his flowers cut, and tie up his nosegay. And

AT THE CONVENTION. 181

ill the hurry it sometimes happens that he ties
up the roses with the thorns sticking out too
prominently. Flowery speech may do when
a man has the pulpit to himself for an hour
and three-quarters, but please to let us have
only a little of it when the speech must be
short.

Sometime, we hear from an apologetic
individual, who asks to be excused for rising
at all, and says that his only reason is that
he knows nothing whatever, and has come
for information. His infirmity, however, is,
that after he has made this confession, he
commences to instruct the asseYnbled con-
gregation in something which he does know,
or thinks he knows, until "Mr. Chairman"
calls him to order for exceeding his time.

The very heavy man succeeds in obtaining
the floor. He has been stru2:2rlino^ for some
time, but others got ahead of him, as in the case
of the cripple at the pool of Bethesda. He
commences by saying, "M-i-s-t-e-r C-h-a-r-
m-a-n ! Human nature will always be human

182 AT THE COXYENTIOX.

nature, the world over." At the utterance of
this stoTtling truth, profound silence falls like
a damp sheet over the whole assembly. They
wait with breathless anxiety during the pause
which comes between that and the next sen-
tence. When the next sentence comes, it is
found to contain nothing very important, and
the same proves true of the sentences which
succeed it. Nobody disputes Vv^hat he says.

These are not all the speakers, but they are
the most frequently on the floor. We may
learn a lesson or two from them. The man
who is most often on the floor does not succeed
in speaking' at all. He only gets as far as
*^ Mr. Chairman," when he discovers that some-
body else is before him, and subsides. It is
impossible to tell what the convention lose
by his failure to catch the chairman's eye.

Speakers, listen to a hint or two. If you
like them, follow them.

Be sure, before you open your mouth, that
you have something to say.

Be certain that you know what is before

AT THE CONVENTION. 183

the house before you speak on it. It will tend
to make your remarks more to the point.

Don't be flowery. The shorter your words
and sentences the better.

Condense. Many fifteen minute speeches
would be better if boiled down to five.

Stop as soon as you are done.

Leave your arithmetic at home, especially
if the speeches are to be short. If you want
to give your hearers figures, give only grand
totals. They will forget everything else
numerical.

Let your voice be clear and loud. It is
useless to say anything unless you say it so
that people can hear you. You would com-
plain if your newspaper were a great sheet
of blurred ink marks, instead of clear typogra-
phy. If the message of the types must be
made plain to the eye, so must the message
of the voice fall plainly on the ear.

We hear too much talking in the pews,
while speakers are speaking. It is so in all
religious deliberative bodies. There is one

184 AT THE COInYEIxTION.

way to stop it — only one. Let every speaker
so thoroughly interest his hearers that no-
body will want to talk.

CHAPTEE XXXII.

The Empty Man.

OME empty things are empty because
they have been exhausted of that which
they formerly contained. This is not the
case with the speaker to whom we now listen.
His infirmity is that he was not filled. Con-
sequently he has nothing to say.

It would be well for himself and for his
hearers, if he could convince himself, before
starting, of his empty condition. But he
rises with the air of one who has important
truths to communicate. Even if he has an
inward conviction that he has not much to
say, he thinks the emergency may bring forth
something. He has heard about how some
great men find words and thoughts coming to
them in the pulpit and upon the platform , and
he does not know but that a deluge of speech

185

186 THE EIVIPTY MAN.

matter may flow in upon him after he gets in
motion. He is iutroduced to those who are
to be his hearers. He looks wise at them.
They look at him as if they expect something
very fine. But he is empty as a tin rattle.
True, the tin rattle has a few solid substances
within it, which can be made to jingle against
its sides, and thus produce an entertaining
sound for very young person*. So our empty
friend may have an idea or two, or some frag-
mentary remnants of an idea, which v/ill jin-
gle a little when violently agitated. But the
music of the rattle is monotonous, and soon
becomes tiresome. So with the speech. It
is very hard work to listen to it ; all the hard-
er if we sympathise with the sufi'ering speaker
in his laborious efi*orts to pump up something
from where there is nothing.

For the opening sentences of his speech,
Mr. Empty selects some wise saws, so old
that all their teeth are worn off, or else some
allusion to his owu emotions on being asked
to address such an assembly as that which is

THE EMPTY MAN. 187

before hiin. If it is an ordinary Sunday
School address, and the day is Mr, he opens
b}^ saying, " My dear children, I am glad to
see you here this bright and beautiful after-
noon." Then a pause and a clearing of the
throat, waiting for something else to come.
When the something does come, it is apt to be
a slight paraphrase of the sentence already
uttered, or an improvement on it ; for instance,
" I am very glad indeed^ my dear young friends,
to behold your pleasant faces here on this sun-
shhiy day." The pleasurable thought which
lies at the bottom of this may be ventilated
seven or eio'ht times in the course of the
speech. If the occasion is a great one — an
anniversary or a pic-nic, prominent allusion
is made to "this interesting occasion," to the
pleasure which it gives the angels in heaven
to behold it, and to the Sunday finery with
which the children are adorned. If it is at a
Sunday School convention, where five-minute
speeches are being delivered? these trite re-
marks consume the whole of the speaker's

188 THE EJklPTY MAN.

time, and he costs the convention exactly five
minutes of its time, whenever he rises ; giving
nothing in exchange for it.

At an anniversary or other meeting where
this gentleman officiates, he asks, as a partic-
ular favor, that he may be the last speaker.
This he does in the hope that he may gather
a few ideas from the speakers who precede
him. He makes the most of his opportunities
here, and sometimes succeeds in appropriating
some ideas, but without such digestion as to
make them his own. AYhen he brings them
out, it is as when a turkey would steal pea-
cock's feathers for purposes of personal adorn-
ment ; all who see their rich plumage know
that they did not grow upon the turkey.
He says, " as the previous speaker has just elo-
quently remarked" — and then he proceeds
with a mangled hash of what he thought the
speaker said, with variations. If the youth-
ful hearers are asked what he said, they are
apt to give such an account as did a little girl
who had been listening to one of these empty

THE EMPTY MAN. 189

men. " Why, ma, he talked, and he talked,
and he told us he was glad to see us ; and then
he talked ; hut he didn^t say nothing J"

A man commenced speaking quite eloquent-
ly at a meeting where the speeches were to
be but five minutes long, but after he had
spoken about two minutes, he consumed the
remaining three in telling how sorry he was
that the time was so short ; he would like to
have more time. By general consent, his time
was extended, as we all supposed he had some-
thing to say ; which being done, he paused,
scratched his ear, and said, "well, really, Mr.
Chairman, I don't know that I have anything
more to say." The irrepressible smile which
followed, interfered sadly with the devotional
purposes for which the meeting was lield. The
man was, oratorically viewed, a tin rattle.
One jingle finished him.

The Empty Speaker generally talks a great
while ; always as long as he is allowed to.
He keeps on in the hope that he will succeed
in saying something, a hope which is shared

190 THE EMPTY MAN,

by his hearers, but which is most generally
disappointed. That which he says will not
w^arrant the labor and expense of phonograph-
ing or printing.

Emptiness arises from want of preparation.
It may seem to some people absurd to talk of
preparing to address children. It is a great
deal more absurd to address them without
preparation. Consider what you have to say.
If you have nothing to say, keep your mouth
carefully closed. If on consideration, you
find that you have somewhat to say, out witli
it, weighing every word, and every thought,
dressing it in its most pleasing garb, and be-
ing very particular to stop the moment you
get done.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

The Dull Speaker.

JT is not polite to withdraw from a public
assembly while a gentleman is speaking.
That is the reason why people stay to listen to
the dull man. They would rather go home.
As they feel that they must stay, some of
them take advantage of the opportunity which
is offered for slumber.

The Dull Speaker is among orators what the
hippopotamus is among the beasts of the field.
He is ponderous, slow, uncouth, and some-
what majestic. He puts forth his views in
the stately but clumsy manner in which the
great animal puts out his feet when he walks.
And he as completely crushes out all interest
from the minds of his weary hearers, as the
hippopotamus crushes the weeds and grass
wherever he sets his great flat feet. When

192 THE DULL SPEAKER.

he commences his speech he looks as if to say,
" here is wisdom ; " and although the appear-
ance of wisdom is carried along the whole
course of it, the wisdom itself is so far down
in the depths of s]3eechly profundity, that it is
impossible for ordinary people to fish it up,
or else it is so completely enwrapped in fog,
that it cannot be seen. But he has the name
of being exceedingly wise.

There is little dispute about what he says.
His manner throws his matter so much in the
shade, that but few of his hearers concern
themselves about whether it is wise or unwise.
Frequently he utters sound sense, but in such
a way as to render the youth whom he ad-
dresses, insensible to any good efiect it might
otherwise produce on them. His wisdom
would be in order for delivery to a historical
or statistical society, or for printing on those
pages of a benevolent society's report which
are never read. But nb Sunday School wants
to be wearied by its insufierable dullness.
The only comments we hear about it, when it

THE DULL SPEAKER. 193

is over, are those which touch on its tiresome-
ness, its heaviness, or the celebrity and gene-
ral ability of the good and great man who has
uttered it. Nobody remembers any particu-
lar point in it, if indeed it had any point.
Sometimes the speaker does get off a worn-
out joke, which is remembered for its clum-
siness, its failure to produce the effect which
a well executed joke is known to produce,
and its being entirely out of place in every
respect.

If the Dull Speaker, and his brother, the
Long-winded Speaker, should both speak on
the same occasion, it is entirely too much for
any audience. If a collection is to follow the
efforts of either, or both of them, the particu-
lar branch of benevolence which the collection
is intended to refresh, is likely to go very
hungry. All the hearers yawn when Mr.
Dull begins. The children have got into the
habit of yawning at the mere mention of his
name.

Dull is behind the age in most things. If

194 THE DULL SPEAKER.

he sp(3aks at a missionary meeting, he tells
things which were known in 1834, rather
than matters of more recent intelligence. He
sometimes spreads himself on how one Kobert
Raikes went into a certain Sunday School en-
terprise, which was the beginning of all pres-
ent Sunday School enterprises. In national
matters, he has got as far as to where the
rebels fired on Fort Sumter, and may be ex-
pected by next anniversary season to have be-
come acquainted with the facts of the first bat-
tle of Bull Paul.

Talk to this man about interesting the chil-
dren. Tell him that he does not do it, and
that he ought to try. He wdll put on a look
of profound wisdom, and gravely shake his
head, while he tells you of the stuff and flum-
mery with which many vain men seek to in-
terest children. These men, he says, arouse
a certain degree of ephemeral excitement ; how
much better to give them something good and
solid. These men but tickle the youthful
ears, while his wise sayings go all the way to

THE DULL SPEAKER. 195

the heart. Perhaps he thinks they do, but if
he would examine the children at the close of
a ilull discourse, he would find that not even
th3ir ears were touched. ~

Mr. Dull ! Mr. Dull ! wake up ! You are
not interesting the children, or anybody else.
Nobody wants to listen to you. You proba-
bly do harm every time you open your mouth
to speak. You could do good if you would
turn over a new leaf. Remember that you
have no more right to serve np even good
truth in your dull way, than your cook has to
bring your food to the table prepared in such
a way that you cannot possibly eat it. Wake
up, sir ! When you speak, remember that
you have a message for your hearers. Up to
your duty of delivering it, in a straight-for-
ward, manly way ! Think well and study
well before-hand what you are to say. Stand
erect, throw back your shoulders, and throw
open your mouth, and let the speech roll out
clearly and plainly, so that it will be heard.
Begin without apology or introduction. Be-

196 THE DULL SPEAKER.

gin without telliog who you are, or the cir-
cumstances of merely personal interest which
have called you out. Speak fast enough to
keep your hearers from going to sleep. Look
them in the eyes so as to make each one say
when he goes home, "Mother, that man was
looking right at me." Above all, feel that
you must try to do them some good, and trying
this, throw your whole soul into the speech.
Then nobody will say you are a Dull Speaker
any more.

Not worth the trouble of all this? Can't
doit? Then, sir, quit your public perform-
ances altogether. Sit down in the far corner
of yonder pew, and go to sleep, and give
place to somebody who can keep everybody
but yourself awake. There is no use in try-
ing to wake you up.

CHAPTER XXXI\r.

The Talking Superintendent.

/jLp VERY good teacher in the Sunday School
\Zy over which this gentleman presides,
wishes that a stopper could be applied to his
fluency. The indifferent teachers hold him
in admiration, for he exercises his gifts so
much as to save them the trouble of filling up
the time with teaching, and so to avoid dis-
closure of the fact that they ^e unprepared
on the lesson.

His ways about the opening exercises are
not like the ways of other superintendents.
Some men can give dut a hymn without offer-
ing remarks on it, but our friend cannot. He
sees in each verse that is to be sung, some
important truth, which he fears will not be
observed by the children unless he calls their
attention to it. So he delivers an extempore

197

198 THE TALKING SUPEKINTENDENT.

address of several minuted on the first verse,
to begiu with. The important things in the
following verses then crowd upon him so
thickly, that by the time he is done giving
them the attention they deserve, several
minutes more have passed. He is startled for
a moment when he looks at the clock, but
thinks he will make it all square by singing
only a part of the hymn. He gives out, " Sing,
if you please, two stanzas, beginning at the
fourth." He congratulates himself so much
on the saving of time thus efiected, that before
engaging in prayer, he addresses the school on
the subject of prayer ; an excellent subject,
and one whicir should be frequently before
them, but not especially in order just now.
The prayer being duly arrived at, and finished,
a chapter in the Bible is to be read. The su-
perintendent now becomes a speaking com-
mentary, partly studied, partly extemporized,
principally the latter. Time is spent here
which ought to be spent by the teachers in
giving prepared instruction, and a slender

THE TALKING SUPERINTENDENT. l99

amount of good is accomplished by the expo-
sitions, which he gives, which are too often
like the " variations " which young ladies play
on the piano — somewhat pleasing to the ear,
but generally only dilutions of the march,
quickstep or popular air which is thus
" varied." For instance, if he is reading the
eleventh chapter of Joshua, he would oifer the
remark on the eighteenth verse that the kings
against whom Joshua was fighting were so
many, and their opposition so great, that he
spent a long time in the war before he could
finish it ; the remark being about three times
as long as the verse, and throwing no light
whatever on it. When the cli^ter is finished,
the way is clear for exhortation on whatever
subject is uppermost in his mind. The regu-
lar duties of the school ought to go on, but
he cannot bear the thouofht of neoflectino- so
good an opportunity for a speech. Some-
times his speech is on the lesson, sometimes
on punctuality, sometimes on the management
of the library, sometimes on making a noise

200 THE TALKING SUPERINTENDENT.

in school ; but more frequently on matters
and things m general.

And now, his making of speeches being
suspended for a while, he makes the cheering
announcement to the teachers that it is time
to go on with the lessons. This announce-
ment comes like a call to dinner, when the
dinner has been standing on the table and
getting cold for half an hour. Nobody can
go to work on the lesson with the appetite
that would have helped them had the speeches
been left out. The lesson drao^s. Teachers
and scholars are alike wearied. The younger
children make a noise. Superintendent jin-
gles his bell, gives notice that they will please
to stop their noise immediately, and accom-
panies the notice with a speech of six minutes
on the wickedness of making a noise in Sun-
day School. Several of the children pause in
their noise-making till the speech is over.

The lesson is finished, being hurried through
in much less than its proper time. Mr.
Speechy now ofiers some remarks in expla-

THE TALKING SUPERINTENDENT. 201

nation of it, which, he says, have occurred to
him while the school has been engaged on it.
These last remarks are extemporized, and
somewhat diffuse. Nobody learns much from
them. Then, with a brief harangue on things
in general, he dismisses the school.

On a speech occasion, such as a misssionary
day or anniversary, this officer is a great bore
to the hearers. He talks so much at other
times, that nobody cares about listening to
him now. But he allows no such trifling con-
sideration as this to interfere with the exer-
cise of his gifts and his rights. If he does not
positively make a speech, he does a great deal
of negative speaking, such as introducing the
speakers, which ought to be the work of a
moment, but which he spins out by telling
where each speaker comes from, and all he
knows about him. This, by the way, is very
disagreeable to most speakers. He also fills
in the chinks of the time by praising each
speech, as the speaker sits down. This also
is disagreeable, both to speaker and hearers.

202 THE TALKING SUPERINTENDENT.

If this Sunday School orator could bottle
up his fluency, so as to keep it from flowing
out when it is not wanted, it would be a great
gain to his school and to himself. He needs
a time-table, and should run his exercises by
it, precisely as punctual railroad conductors
run their trains. Let him allow a certain
number of minutes for each part of the exer-
cises ; if he must make a speech or speeches,
let just so many minutes be allowed, and let
the speech come in it its proper place and time.
Let it be a good speech, well conceived and
thought out, and carefully and simply de-,
livered, even if it is but three minutes long.
Three minutes of such speaking will do more
good than a whole session spent in garrulous
pnlaver.

CHAPTER XXXY.

The Stuffed Children.

CHE practice of stuffing small children
with speeches for platform delivery, is
so fashionable that it seems little better than
useless to say anything against it. There is
not much more chance of obtaining a hearing
from those who think well of the custom, than
there is of being respectfully listened to by a
young mother, when you tell her that she is
killing her baby by exposing its neck and
arms uncovered ; or by a young lady, when
you warn her of the mischiefs of tight-lacing.
Young mother insists that her baby's arms
are covered enough ; that they do not need
any covering at all ; and that you know noth-
ing whatever about the baby. Young lady
declares that her lungs are not crowded by
the foolish machinery with which she girdles

203

204 THE STUFFED CHILDREN.

them, and that it is nobody's business but her
own, if she does choose to kill herself in this
way, rather than to die a natural death. So
the promoters of juvenile speaking maintain
that it is excellent training for the ohildren
who speak ; that it will make statesmen and
orators of the boys — (the corresponding ar-
gument for girls must be, that it will give them
sufficient command of language to enable them
to scold handsomely in the event of becoming
maternal heads of families) — that it will ben-
efit the school religiously and pecuniarily, es-
pecially the latter ; and that it is in every re-
spect a very fine thing.

Nevertheless, whether people will listen or
not, let me say a word about it.

It cannot be denied that great numbers of
dimes and such things, are taken at the door
of every Sunday School or church thrown
open for one of these exhibitions of stufied
youngsters. Neither is it denied that the
young persons so stufied and exhibited do ac-
quire a certain amount of brazen-facedness,

THE STUFFED CHILDREN. 205

which, if cultivated, will fit them for active
duties in public speaking, scolding, or any
other branch of exhortation. But the money
so raised, burns holes in the prosperity of the
school, and the oratorio gifts thus acquired
by the children, are of very questionable ad-
vantage.

An anniversary is announced under the ob-
jectionable name of " Exhibition," thus putting
our children in the same category with the
" What-is-it," the Thumb family, the learned
seal, and the calf with two heads. And the
name of exliihition is just the name for it.
The children whom we love, are thrust for-
ward for show, exactly as are the celebrities
just mentioned. Their performance is some-
times very good, sometimes exceedingly poor,
sometimes of a negative order, half-way be-
tween good and bad,' puzzling the disinter-
ested bystander as to the verdict he is ex-
pected to render concerning it. Strange
speeches are spoken, and odd poems recited,
by children who know no more of the mean-

206 THE STUFFED CHILDEEN.

iiig of what the J are saying, than does the
green parrot in the tin cage, of what he
screeches. Some selections are made from
the Bible, in which case the words of Scrip-
ture are sometimes beautifully rendered, some-
times mangled, or carelessly hurried over, with
as little reverence as would be observed in re-
citing the multiplication table. Other selec-
tions are made from the reading books in use
at day-school, or from some of the "dog-a-
log " books published for the purpose. "My
name is IN^orval on the Grampian hills," "You'd
scarce expect one of my age," " My voice is
still for war," and such stirring bits of elo-
quence, are shown up side by side with "A
dialogue by tAvelve boys and two grown per-
sons, representing Joseph's dream ; " " A dia-
logue by two boys, on the use of Tobacco ; "
and "How doth the little busy bee, by a little
girl three years old last Wednesday." The
printed programmes, describing these enter-
tainments, are often very funny things, and
worthy of preservation in sc7'ap books or

THE STUFFED CHILDREN. 207

other safe places. The style of the oratory,
too, is queer. "Norval on the Grampian hills,"
aged fourteen years, looks sternly at his hear-
ers, raises his right arm as the handle of a
pump is raised, and proceeds. The boy whose
" voice is still for war," shows that his utter-
ances come from his heart, by placing his hand
frequently over that organ, extending his fin-
gers and thumb very much as a daddy-long-
legs extends his legs in crawling. One of the
Tobacco dialogue boys goes heart and fists in-
to the subject, while the other one, (the boy
who has the worst of it,) has the same style
of animation as that which is shown by the
painted mandarins in the tea-shop windows.
The three-year old "Busy Bee," squeaks out
what she has to say about that industrious in-
sect, in the very best way she knows how.
Her gestures are like those of a jointed doll.
Poor little creature ! She should have been
put to bed two hours ago, instead of being
trotted out tliis way at night, to be made a
show of.

208 THE STUFFED CHILDREN.

I recently paid ten cents for admission to
one of these infant prodigy shows, the printed
programme of which announced forty pieces
to be spoken or performed — just four for a
cent. The performers and orators were from
two years and a half old, all the way to big
boys and girls, the girls being dressed in a
profusion of finery. The thing was held in a
church. The platform was cleared of the pul-
pit, so that the oratoric juveniles might have
space in which to spread themselves. The
pastor announced the items of performance, in
their turn. All went on according to pro-
gramme, till about nine o'clock, when he an-
nounced, "the next item on the bill is, Ad-
dress by an infant of three years old.'' He
then benevolently looked down from the plat-
form to assist the infant when it should be
pushed up by its parents, who were near by,
in charge of the little creature. But no infant
was thrust forward. After a few moments
of delay and buzz, the pastor announced, "I
regret to say, that the infant who was to have

THE STUFFED CllILDEEN. 209

addressed us, has gone to sleep! " Poor little,
over-stimulated, exhausted child ! She had
taught her foolish parents and friends, that
they should not make such stupid demands on
three-year-old humanity. Her stuffing and
cramming all went for nothing ; the ambition
of the parents was disappointed, as it ought
to have been. The audience laughed heartily.
The next youngster was stood up, and the
moral menagerie-show went on.

A view of the poor creatures behind the
curtain, may be profitable.

Deciding which children shall speak is a dif-
ficult and dangerous enterprise. Who shall
decide? Whoever does, is sure to get some-
body's ill-will, for not deciding that some-
body's children shall speak, instead of the
children of somebody else. The committee
who have this business in hand, almost always
get into trouble. But this is comparatively a
small matter, for they are grown people, and
can make the best of their way out of it.

There are two hundred and fifty children,

210 THE STUFFED CIIILDKEN.

let US say, in the school. About thirty
speeches are wanted. That will be an abun-
dance. Two hundred and twenty young per-
sons must he speechless. What are the qual-
ifications for those who are to speak? Age,
stature, parentage, ability to gesticulate, moral
or intellectual excellence, or punctual attend-
ance at school for a term of months? From
the shocking speaking which some of the
young orators do, one would suspect one of
these roads to omtoric fame, as quickly as an-
other. The fact is, there is a great deal of
wire-pulling about it, just as there is in polit-
ical life, about the nomination of candidates.
(It is a common fallacy to suppose that all the
candidates nominated and elected in our free
country, are those whom the people really
want.) Mrs. Dull wants her Johnny to make
a speech, or recite a poem. The committee
know that John will make slow business of
it ; he hasn't the right kind of brains. But
Mrs. D. gave fifty dollars to the church last
year, and if her Johnny is rejected, she may

TIIE STUFFED CHILDREN. 211

withdraw her interest in it. Besides, she
offers to stuff and train him, which takes a very
great burden off of somebody. John is ac-
cepted, trained, and exhibited, but makes such
a poor fist at learning "Excelsior," that were
it not for the attentions of the boy who sits
near at hand with his booli, acting as prompt-
er, he would have to leave the platform in
disgrace. Sampson Spry is disposed to take
part in the exercises, and is supposed to have
some oratorio ability, but his speech runs into
very lively gesticulations, like the toy jacka-
napes, which jumps by pulling a string, and
Sample is not understood. The committee
prevail on the parents of Georgiannette Slim
to let her perform as an infant prodigy, but
Georgiannette eats green pears a few days
before the " exhibition " comes off, and is laid
on the shelf till it is over. The friends and
adherents of the two hundred and twenty
young persons who make no speeches, are
divided in feeling ; some being angry at the
committee for not bringing their children for-

212 THE STUFFED CHILDREN.

ward : while others congratulate themselves
that their children were not made fools of, as
were most of the children who spoke.

Then, after the speaking is done, the vain
children are elated by the compliments heap-
ed upon them, and even the sensible ones are
tickled by the same. No matter how badly
a child performs, some people will praise it,
sometimes for expediency, to keep in flivor
with the parents, sometimes for the sake of
not discouraging the little thing. If these
compliments induce a repetition of the decla-
mation, their effect is bad. Anyhow, dosing
a child with compliments is a dangerous kind-
ness.

What is the effect on the school ? Tremen-
dous. Did not the newspaper reporter go to
the show? Did he not describe it in such
glowing colors as to break every school in
tov\ai which does not have such shows ? Did
he not praise the immense trouble, and the
forgetfulness of expense with which the com-
mittee had got up the entertainment ? Did

THE STUFFED CIIILDrwEN. 213

he not speak of the polish and refinement of
Johnny Dull, of the earnestness and activity
of young Mr. Spry, and of the delicate tones
of Sally Simper's voice, of whose speech he
could not hear one word ? Did he not com-
mend the singing, the ability of the superin-
tendent, the devotion of the teachers, the elo-
quence of the pastor, (whom he never heard,)
the beauty of the church, the density of the
crowd, and all other things that ought to be
commended? Oh, yes — it is a very prosper-
ous school, a notorious school, and all because
it had an " exhibition " of its children, who
were taken in charge not to be shown off in
this style, not to be trifled with, but to be
taught the way of everlasting life.

Stuffing children for anniversary speeches,
may be a good way to draw a crowd ; to fill
an exhausted treasury ; to give children a
taste for stuff and nonsense instead of for the
gospel ; to gain the praise of the v/orld ; but
it is not the way to make children wise unto
eternal life. The business is growing more

214 THE STUFFED CHILDREN.

popular every day. Many well-meaning Chris-
tians have suffered themselves to be taken in
by its popularity. Serious work of the Sun-
day School is in many instances neglected for
it. If it is not checked, it will become an evil
even of more fearful magnitude than it is now.
Better let the children sit as hearers of
speeches ; if they want to let their voices be
heard, teach them to sing in the most glorious
style possible. Teach them, too, real hymns ;
not the trash which is fit only to be fiddled
and danced to, which too often finds its way
into our Sunday Schools. Provide for speak-
ers, wise, able, interesting Christian men,
who will instruct as well as entertain ; throw
open your doors, and invite your friends to
come to your anniversary. Don't charge
them, any more than you would for coming to
a sermon or a prayer-meeting. ,They have a
right to be there. Raise money in some other
way, to pay the expenses of the school. Your
school, and all concerned with it, will prosper
in this way, better than by turning religious
education into an intellectual menagerfe.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

The Peripatetic Bore.

E is an uneasy genius, who cannot find
rest for the sole of his foot in any par-
ticular branch of Sunday School effort. He
used to teach a class ; but a peculiar kind of
headache, which attacked and vanquished
him every Sunday, placed him on the exempt
list, after a brief and irregular term of ser-
vice. He was put in charge of the library ;
but his aching head could not stand the labor.
They made him superintendent; but at the
next election it was considered advisable to
drop him, and substitute a man of more stead-
fastness and ability. So, on the principle that
an Ex-President of the United States cannot
consent to serve as police magistrate or town
clerk, the uneasy person has ever since been
out of office. But he feeL^ a warm interest in

215

216 THE PERIPATETIC BORE,

the Sunday School work, and that feeling of
interest needs public ventilation. How shall
it be ventilated ?

There is no such effectual way of putting
himself and his Sunday School interest before
the public, as to travel round from school to
school, paying visits, and making addresses
to those who will listen to them. He per-
forms a vast amount of this self-imposed
missionary labor, and often to the regret of
the schools which suffer it to be inflicted on
them. His first visit is an occasion of inter-
est ; but after he has been along three or
four times, the remark is made, "Here comes
that same man again," or " AYhat does he come
so often for? " or " We ha^e heard all he has
to say." Pie does not let on, if he hears these
remarks, but keeps on with his visits, and
makes a speech wherever he is invited. The
obliging superintendent of the school which
he most frequents, has resolved not to ask him
to speak again ; but his good nature gets the
better of his judgment, and the bore is again

THE PERIPATETIC BORE. 217

and again permitted to entertain himself by
his well-meaning harangue.

To listen to his own account of the labors
he has performed, the good he has done, the
sacrifices he has made, and the perspiration
and fatigue he has suffered, you would sup-
pose that he had refreshed all the Sunday
Schools within several miles of where he lives,
and has saved the most of them from almost
hopeless decay. You would suppose that the
boys and girls in these schools are as clamor-
ous for his coming as they woidd be for a
magic lantern show, or the exhibition of a
menagerie with several monkeys in it. From
his version of the politeness with which the
superintendents receive him, and the pressing
urgency with which they invite him to speak,
you would not imagine how tired they are of
him, and how they do invite him to spe^k
only because they fear his feelings wdll be hurt
if they let him sit speechless. When you
hear him tell of the breathless attention with
which both adults and children listened to

218 THE PEEIPATETIC BOKE.

his "few remarks," suppress your recollec-
tion of the yawns which overcame you, as
you heard him deUver, at your school, the
same speech which you had heard him de-
liver three previous times elsewhere. And
do not spoil the " original anecdote " which
he has spun out to twenty-two Sunday
Schools, by referring to the religious newspa-
per from whose columns he scissored it.

It is not necessary, for the sake of polite-
ness, to ask everybody who visits your Sun-
day School to " ofler a few remarks." Some
superintendents have a habit of doing it, just
as they would ask a man to take a seat, or to
let them take his hat and umbrella. Few
things are likely to injure a Sunday School
more certainly than this species of vagabond
oratory. It distracts the attention of the chil-
dren from their lessons ; it disarranges the
order of the exercises ; it frequently reduces
the spirituality of the school ; it is altogether a
nuisance which ought not to be tolerated.

If the afflicted superintendent of a suffer-

THE PERIPATETIC BOKE. 219

ing Sunday School wants to get rid of these
troublesome visitors, there are two ways in
which he can do it.

First — Don't ask anybody to speak for the
sake of politeness, unless you are sure he will
make a good speech. Do not allow even a
good speech, unless you can arrange it for an
appropriate moment.

Second — When you see Mr. Peripatetic
Bore coming in, rush up to him, grasp him
by the hand, and tell him you are ^o glad to
see him, for you want him to teach that class
of small boys whose teacher is absent and has
provided no substitute. Now you have him.
He don't like work. He says he is not pre-
pared on the lesson. In vain you compli-
ment him by assuring him of your belief that
he is always prepared on any portion of
Scripture. He finds that you prefer that he
shall not make a speech. He pulls out his
watch and extemporizes an engagement which
he must positively fulfil, in fifteen minutes, at
a school in the next street. He really cannot

220 THE PERIPATETIC BORE.

stay. Try this on him two or three times,
and he will weary you Avith his speeches no
more.

An uneasy person looks over my shoulder
and asks, "Why do you write that stuff?
Why not write something spiritual, to con-
vert souls ? " To whom I make answer, that
if we want our Sunday Schools spiritualized ;
if we want to lead souls to Christ ; the surest
way of attaining our object, is by confining
our schools to the plain and earnest teaching
•of gospel truth, and to that end ridding them
of all such speech-making humbugs as the
Peripatetic Bore.

CHAPTER XXXYII,

The Apologetic Speaker.

'/iV HIS orator begins by saying that he posi-
\llJ tively cannot speak, owing to a very bad
cold in his head, which he caught a few days
ago by imprudently leaving off one thickness
of his under garments. Or, he is a sufferer
from the aching nerves of a partially decayed
tooth, which he has allowed to remain in his
lower jaw longer than it ought to, by reason
of not having had time to go to the dentist's
for the purpose of having it rooted out. Or,
he has not fully recovered from the bruise on
his knee, which he received when that joint
came violently in contact with the brick pave-
ment one night last week, some careless or de-
signing person having placed melon rind in a
spot on which he could not avoid treading.
Or, the illness of his wife's cousin (on the

222 THE APOLOGETIC SPEAKER.

mother's side) has so engrossed his attention
since the fourteenth of last month, that he
cannot collect his thoughts. Or, he fears
(after promising to speak) that he is not
the best man whom the committee could
have selected for this interesting occasion,
and as he sees around him those who are
more eloquent than he, he trusts that his
well known inability to interest an audi-
ence, will suffice for a reason why he should
give place to some of the learned and gifted
gentlemen who are present. Or, the pres-
sure of business during the past few days has
been such as never, in all his business expe-
rience, (and here he stops to hint at what a
tremendous experience he has had) , crowded
on him before. It has completely ovei-
whelmed him. Or — he is totally unprepared.
The audience sympathizes with the afflicted
person, and unanimously conclude that it is
unreasonable to expect a speech from a man
laboring under any or all of the above men-
tioned disabilities. They wonder that his

THE APOLOGETIC SPEAKER. 223

family could have consented to his leaving
home under the circumstances ; and still
greater is their surprise to see that the com-
mittee do Tiot, on hearing his apologetic
statements, at once procure a comfortable
hack, and hurry him to a place of repose and
safety.

But he wants no hack. Instead of sitting
down when he is done explaining that he
cannot speak, and why he cannot, he pushes
on ! The sympathy which his hearers at
first felt, subsides on seeing that he does ac-
tually get along. The catarrhal affection in
his head gives him less trouble than he had
anticipated. The pangs of the aching ivory
are lulled. Ointment seems to have been
suddenly and mysteriously applied to the
battered knee. The wife's cousin can take
care of herself till the speech is over. Plis
stammering tongue moves with ease and vol-
ubility which could not have been expected
of it. For one who was so entirely without
preparation, he does manage to fill up his

224 THE APOLOGETIC SPEAKER.

allotted time, and generally somewhat more ;
for when a man begins with an apology, if
he consumes half his time in uttering it, he
counts the beginning of his speech at about
where the apology ended, and so keeps on.

Generally he is as good as his word, and the
audience soon find him out, a] id wish they
had encouraged him to sit down, when he
declared his inability to speak. His talk is
apt to be a continuous string of nothings,
amounting in their total to exceedingly little.
It did certainly need some apology, if indeed
it ought to have been spoken at all. It would
have been better to omit it altogether. His
hearers grow weary, and, while they wish
him no particular harm, hope that some of
his infirmites will interfere with his appear-
ance in public, should a future invitation be
extended to him.

Sometimes it is the case, however, that a
speaker who begins with an apology makes a
really excellent speech. This, which is a rare
occurrence, is only an evidence that good

THE APOLOGETIC SPEAKEE. 225

men sometimes do foolish tilings. No apology
ever helps a speech. No speech is as good
with an apology at its beginning, as it is if
the speaker plunges at once into what he has
to say, and says it earnestly and clearly. The
only w^arrantable apology is in the case of
the speaker of feeble voice, who consumes
the first five minutes of his speech in building
the fire under his boiler to get up sufficient
steam to enable his voice to be heard. If we
must have an apology, let us have it then, for
nobody will lose anything by not hearing it.
The UTvpre/pared apologist is the most ob-
jectionable. If he is really unprepared, as he
says, he has no business to make a speech.
If he is prepared, he is guilty of doing some-
thing naughty, in saying that he is not. In
either case, he is the man who speaks longer
than the others. There is no necessity for
lifting the curtain and letting the congrega-
tion into the secrets of how you get up your
speech. When you invite guests to dinner,
you do not take them into the kitchen to

226 THE APOLoaETrc speaker.

show tliem how the cookery was doue. And
if you should serve up the food raw, it would
be the last thing of which you would boast, or
even make mention. In the event of an emer-
gency, calling forth a purely extemporized
speech, there is no use in telling your hearers
about it, for you may be assured that some of
them will never find it out, and those who do,
can do so without being publicly informed of
it.

At a rural anniversary, a speaker rose, on
being introduced to the assembly, and with
serious face said, ""My friends, I regret to say
that I feel sick at my stomach, and I fear that
I shall not be able to address you on this occa-
sion." He went right on, however, the con-
gregation looking for active developments of
the disease, The over-fed organ discontinued
its rebellion against the rest of the man's
system, and the speech lasted three-quarters
of an hour. If he felt unable to speak, he
should have remained quiet ; if able, there
was no reason why he should offend the good

THE APOLOGETIC SPEAKER. 227

taste of his hearers by saying exactly what
was the matter with him.

So much for apologies. They are, at best,
useless ; at worst, hypocrisy. Away with
them.

CHAPTER XXXYIII.

The Untimely Speaker.

OME people seem to have been born at
the wrong time. Many an enthusiastic
inventor has struggled out a life-time of pov-
erty and disappointment, because he was born
a generation or so before the public were
ready to take hold of his ideas. There are
sloYv^ persons who are evidently a generation
behind the times. Others have entered the
world from ten to fifteen minutes too late, as
may be seen by their coming into church or
Sunday School, regularly that much after the
exercises have commenced.

It is uncertain whether the present- speaker
was born too late or too early. He is an un-
seasonable creature. His " few remarks" seem
always to be launched just at the time when
they are most inappropriate. He has not the

TPIE UNTIMELY SPEAKEE. 229

gift of saving the right thing at the right
time. It might be an advantage to his hear-
ers if he would keep his thoughts entirely to
himself, and a select circle of his intimate
friends and admirers. But he will let the
world have the benefit of them, whether it
wants to hear or not. He generally has a
hobby. Sometimes it is a pet interpretation
of a passage of Scripture, on which he thinks
commentators and others have blundered.
Sometimes it is the use of tobacco. Some-
times it is parental mismanagement. Some-
times the " inevitable negro." And sometimes
it is almost nothing at all.

A meeting for prayer is held during the
sessions of a religious assembly ; let us say,
for instance, a Sunday School convention.
The ordinary opening exercises have been dis-
posed of. . All are in the spirit of j)rayer, and
expecting a profitable season. The chairman
announces that prayers or brief exhortations
are in order. Up jumps Mr. Untimely. He
proceeds with the information that he has

230 THE UNTIMELY SPEAKER.

three sons, two nephews, and a cousin, in the
army ; states the regiments to which they
belong, the names of the colonels, and the
dates of their departure for the seat of war •,
then tells that certain of them have unfortu-
nately been wounded, and gives a brief ac-
count of the nature of their wounds and the
battles in which they were received. This
consuming nearly all of his share of time, he
hastily winds up by telling what a good thing
it is to be a prayerful soldier, or to have a
Bible in your pocket in case you are hit by a
minie ball. He adds a sort of postscript to
his remarks, to say that he has at home a
minie ball which went half way through his
cousin's Bible, and which he will be happy
to show to any of the brethren w^ho will call
at his residence, number fifteen Jeremiah
street. The chairman would stop him, only
that he has an idea that each sentence of the
inappropriate part, is the last, and that he is
rapidly arriving at the practical portion of his
exhortation. If this speaker rises during the

THE UNTIMELY SPEAKER, 231

«

business sessions of the convention, he is sure
to speak on the wrong resolution » or to say
some unwise thing if he happens to hit the
right one. The chairman kindly undertakes
to put him right, but he plods on, remaricing
that if that officer will pay attention, he will
find that he will presently come to the point.
The point is so pointless, when it is arrived
at, that nobody sees it.

We go to a children's meeting. Untimely
has consented to be one of the speakers. The
house is full, principally of children, but with
a sprinkling of grown people. The other
speakers have addressed the children. Mr.
Untimely thinks it w^ould be a shame to let
all these fathers, mothers, aunts, and uncles
go without a speech specially for them, and
so addresses all his remarks to adults, forget-
ting the presence of the very little people
whom he was invited to address. The re-
marks may be excellent, but they are thrown
away. The little folks take vengeance on
him, some by going to sleep, others by mak-

232 THE UNTIMELY SPEAKER.

iiig a disturbance, for no children need be ex-
pected to beiiave themselves in a public meet-
ing, unless they are interested in what is go-
ing on.

Another untimelj^ man volunteers a speech
at the close of a meeting where four or five
speakers have already been heard. He thinks
he is full of something to say. He boils over.
He gushes up to the chairman, and says he
must say a word in conclusion. Chairman
uncorks him, and lets him proceed. But his
bottle contains only a few bubbles of enthusi-
astic froth, with some stupid common-place
underneath it. The bottle has such a long
and narrow neck that the contents, though
not good for much, consume some time in
getting out. The o\\\j way to quench him, is
to sing some well knovv-n hymn, in which all
can join.

One or two ^^ untimely men " can easily
spoil a prayer-meeting, a children's meeting,
or, in fact, a meeting of any kind. They soon
become known, in the places which they fre-

THE UNTIMELY SPEAKER. 233

qiient, and can be avoided. A good chairman
soon learns how to look in another part of the
house, so as not to see them when they bounce
up, crying, "Mr. Charman ! Mr. Chaimian!
just one word on this subject, if you please,
sir."

The Untimely Speaker is not a hopeless
nuisance. He can, in some instances, be re-
formed, especially if he 'is not too old, or too
much set in his ways. His chief mistakes
arise from the feeling that he must make a
speech, coupled with partial or total absence
of somewhat to say. For want of prepara-
tion, he stumbles into nonsense. Or from
want of appreciation of time, place, and cir-
cumstances, he wanders into something use-
less, or calculated to hurt somebody's feelings.
If some kind and judicious friend will tell
him of his mistakes, and show him what is
right, he may so far reform as to make a very
useful and acceptable speaker. If he refuses
advice, and says he knows so much that he
cannot be improved on, drop him.

CHAPTER XXXIX

The Ridiculous Speaker.

CHE last words of the ponderous address
of that able man, the Eev. Dr. Plod,
have just fallen upon the wearied ears of the
audience. The audience are glad, for Dr.
Plod has been speaking for forty minutes. He
has been into the depths of metaphysical the-
ology, and has rolled out his weighty sa3dngs
with logical accuracy, and even with elegance
of diction. But it was not possible for his
youthful hearers to understand one w^ord of it.
Mr. Ridiculous has been announced as the
next speaker. The children know him, and
are looking for some lively refreshment from
him, which they feel that they deserve, after
listening to the stately utterances of Dr. Plod.
He knows, too, that if that distinguished per-
son were to continue his address much longer,

224

THE RIDICULOUS SPEAKER. 235

the hearers, great and small, might be snor-
ing. They need waking up. And he will
wake them up. He reasons within himself,
" Old Plod couldn't come it over these folks ;
but see me fetch them." And he proceeds to
"fetch them."

The first thing he does is to make a comical
face at the children. The children at once
set him down as a superior man, for Dr. P.'s
countenance was as unmoved as a mile-stone,
during his speech. Now he is going to inter-
est them. They begin to love him, and wish
he were going to talk all the time. He makes
another funny face, wiiich makes the youthful
congregation laugh. These pleasant smirks
are instead of the ordinary " introduction "
with which sermons are begun.

The " introduction " being over, he plunges
into the heads of his subject — (if his subject
had any heads, or if he had any subject, it
would be a good thing) — or, at any rate, he
plunges into something. It is a string of
funny nothings, without head, middle, or tail.

236 THE RIDICULOUS SPEAKER.

One queer story succeeds another, interspers-
ed with pleasant grimaces, which come as nat-
urally and as frequently as do the oaths with
which profane men spice their conversation.
It is extremely delightful to .the children, but
miserably unprofitable. It is like the elegant
froth puddings which adorn hotel dinner ta-
bles ; fine to look at, but poor stufi" to feed
upon ; nearly all froth, and almost no pud-
ding. As it would not require a careful cal-
culation to ascertain exactly how long it would
take a man to starve on such puddings, so we
might easily calculate how soon a Sunday
School would run down if statedly fed on
such foolish nothings as the present orator
utters.

Both Mr. Ridiculous and Dr. Plod are in
error, although their errors are widely difier-
eiit in their character. Plod is as grave as a
sexton ; Ridiculous cannot help playing the
bufi'oon. Plod never smiles, while Ridiculous
thinks that the chief excellence of speaking
is to keep the children on a broad grin all the

THE EIDICULOUS SPEAKEE. 237

time. The Doctor thinks it undignified to be
constantly using illustrations, and so entirely
avoids them. The funny man uses great
loads of them, but they are only jokes, and
are not used to illustrate anything in particu-
lar. Plod disapproves of froth pudding, but
does not hesitate to ofier his young friends
stale sawdust pie. The one they cannot pos-
sibly swallow or digest ; the other they gulp
down in large spoonfuls, but the more they
get of it, the poorer and thinner they become.
It is very easy to make children laugh,
especially very young children. But making
them laugh should not be the chief object of
the man Vv^ho addresses them in Sunday School.
If mirth is all that is desired, it would be well
to omit the speech altogether, and only do
funny things. Let a funny person go from
bench to bench in a Sunday School, and tickle
the children's noses with a straw, or pleasantly
punch them under the ribs with a stick, and
he will have the school in a burst of cheerful
merriment sooner than by delivering the very

238 THE RIDICULOUS SPEAKER.

funniest address he knows. Perhaps some-
body says this would be a ridiculous proceed-
ing. Not much more ridiculous than some
of the buffoon speeches which are sometimes
made.

It is not denied that the Ridiculous Speaker
succeeds in securing the attention of the chil-
dren. Children will give heed to whatever is
amusing. Let a man come along with a bar-
rel organ, and the most entertaining speaker
cannot hold their attention. Let some lively
boy report that there is a monkey in attend-
ance on that instrument of music, and it takes
more than ordinary discipline to restrain them
from crowdmg the doors and windows to wit-
ness the grotesque performances of the merry-
making little beast.

How far, then, is it right to be funny in
speaking to children? Very little, indeed, if
we want to do them good. Some cheerful
brother is disturbed at this, and fears we are
taking the side of Dr. Plod. Don't be alarmed,
my cheerful friend. It is right to flavor your

THE RIDICULOUS SPEAKER. 239

speech with amusing remarks, just as you
put sugar in your coffee. A little sugar, if it
is a good article of sugar, without too much
sand in it, will sweeten a good-sized cup of
coffee. If you drink the (decoction of rye,
chestnuts, roots, and other stuff now generally
used for) coffee, without sugar, it is very dis-
agreeable. If, on the other hand, you put too
much sugar in it, you find a quantity of good-
for-nothing sweetening at the bottom of the
cup, which the coffee w^ould not dissolve, and
which is not useful, either as coffee, sugar, or
anything else. So must we season our speech
with exactly the right quantity of an excellent
article of mirthfulness. If a good joke comes
in place to point an illustration with, use it by
all means, but take care that neither joke nor
illustration are used only for the sake of say-
ing something sharp or funny. If the speech
is all joke, it is coffee with too much sugar.
If too dry and solemn, it is coffee with the
sugar left out, and however pure Mocha it may
be, nobody wants it, or can enjoy it.

240 THE RIDICULOUS SPEAKER.

While sweetening our speech with the sugar
of pleasant mirthfuhiess, let us also be careful
that it be well seasoned with the salt of divine
grace. Otherwise it cannot be written of it,
" and the speech pleased the Lord."

CHAPTER XL.

In the Pulpit.

fT is much more the fashion now for minis-
ters to take some notice of the children of
their congregation, than it was a good many
years ago. Different men have different ways
of encouraging their young people. Some pat
them on the h&td or back ; some look pleas-
antly at them ; some come into Sunday School
and make short or long speeches to them ; and
some put in every sermon a few sentences so
plain that the children can understand them.
When the children hear these sentences, they
feel that an oasis has been arrived at, in the
midst of a dreary wilderness of sermon ; while
the plain words are being uttered, they wake
up, give earuest attention, and often carry
home a thought or two of what was said for
them.

242 IN THE PULPIT.

But the prevalent way of manifesting pas-
toral interest in children, is to give them, on
stated occasions, a special sermon, just for
themselves. If this is wisely done, it is an
excellent thino^. Tfie children understand that
it is their sermon, and that the big folks, even
if they do enjoy a monoply of the preaching
at other times, are now sitting under the
sound of the gospel only by sufferance. How
often these juvenile preachings are to be had,
is regulated according to the taste and con-
venience of the parties preaching and preached
to.

It is not equally convenient for all men to
come down from the stately step-ladder of
adult sermonizing, to the plain and simple
business of dispensing gospel milk to babes
in Christ. Some, who stand on the very high-
est step of the ladder, while uttering the reg-
ular eloquence of the pulpit, come down a
step or two with uncertain footsteps, as if
they feared a tumble ; and discourse with a
constant nnrvous grasp of the topmost step,

IN THE PUtPIT. 243

which renders their footing even more uncer-
tain. Some, on the other hand, leap all the
way down the ladder, and get into the mud at
its base, where they do much floundering
about, in their efforts to be simple, and to
make the children understand. Some men
seem to have the faculty of adapting them-
selves to children at once ; some acquire the
art, after long and patient study and practice,
with occasionally an utter failure ; while some
seem never to meet with that success which
their laborious efforts deserve.

A young minister, in a town, no matter
where, filled his church with children and
young people. He made a special business of
preaching to them every Sunday afternoon,
attending more particularly to the grown
people in the morning. The effects were vis-
ible on the church of another denomination,
on the opposite corner. The pastor of this
church was a man of middle age, a very giant
in controversial theology, and who preached
able, powerful, and very deejp sermons. He

244 IN THE PULPIT.

and his people were distressed that all the
young folks should take such a fancy to the
preaching of the heterodox little man over the
way. They consulted over a plan to bring
back the wandering lambs of the flock, and
concluded that if their pastor would preach a
course of afternoon sermons to children, it
would be just the thing. The little man
feared, when he heard it announced, that all
his young hearers would go to hear the doctor
of divinity. And his audience was indeed slim,
the first day that the learned man preached.
The next Sabbath, the great man had a very
thin house, while the junior preacher again
had a full attendance. The secret of the mat-
ter was, that the young man knew how to
preach to children, while the other did not.

Children do not so naturally take to hearing
sermons, as to rush in great crowds whenever
and wherever it is announced that a sermon
will be delivered. On the contrar}^ the very
name of sermon is such a bugbear with many
young persons, that they will devise almost

IN THE PULPIT. 245

any excuse rather than go to hear preaching.
It is therefore necessary to hold out some ex-
traordinary inducement to them, in order to
make them come and listen. Making them
come is one business ; making them listen, so
as to carry away some good of the discourse,
is another. You may drive the children into
church, as pigs are driven into a pen, but it
does not follow that the preaching will bene-
fit them, only because you watched them so
sharply that not a single boy got a chance to
slip off. Unwilling hearers are very hard
hearers to preach to. If the child has the
sulks because he was sent to church, he will
not carry home a pleasant impression of the
sermon, even if it was the best that could be
delivered.

How, then, shall we make them come and
listen ? Simply by making the sermon as at-
tractive as possible. Grown people may
come, from a stern sense of duty, to listen to
sermons which are as dry as census reports.
Children will run away from such unpalatable

246 m THE PULPIT.

repast. But if you take the census report
and change its tabular statistics into language
of the style of Peter Parley's geography, inter-
spersed with an occasional bit of poetry and
a few pictures, the children will devour it, and
cry for more. So with the most solid theolo-
gy. Children might just as well learn it as
not. They can be told of every attribute of
God, and of God's purposes, and the wonders
of his grace in Jesus Christ, far easier in sim-
ple language than in profound theologic for-
mula. The sermon must be preached in
language that they can understand, full of the
right kind of illustrations, and must be deliv-
ered in such a way as to secure the steadfast
attention of every child in the audience. Then
the children will all come, bring their friends,
and children and friends together will go
home profited as well as interested.

It is not necessary to talk nonsense to
children in order to secure their attention.
Whatever admiration we may have for Mother
Goose in the nursery, let us not make geese

IN THE PULPIT. 247

of ourselves by introducing her into the Sun-
day School or the pulpit.

The sermon should be short. If it is over
half an hour, the children will forget the most
of it. The other services should be appropri-
ate to the occasion. The prayers may well
be shorter than usual ; two short prayers will
be better than one long one. Never neglect
reading the Bible on any preaching occasion,
great or small. Sing plenty of hymns, and
sing them well. The " childrens' day," will
then be one of the most pleasant of all religious
exercises, and even the grown people will
come to hear what it is that the children listen
to, and perhaps to be profited by the absence
of that stateliness with which the gospel is
sometimes dealt out to them.

CHAPTEE XLI.

The Truly Eloquent Speaker.

^*^HE literal meaning of the word eloquence,
^l\J is speaking out. The truly eloquent
speaker, then, is the man who brings out
what he has to say, in such a way that his
hearers, great or small, may take hold of it,
and appropriate to themselves the good that
is contained in it.

Two things are necessary in order that
speech may be eloquent ; first, that there be
something in the speaker, which can be
brought out ; secondly, that it be brought out
in such a way that it shall be good for some-
thing when it is out.

The mighty guns, which do the heavy shoot-
ing from our iron-clads, are very harmless
thinofs when there is no load in them. The
enemy may come directly under their muzzles,

THE TRULY ELOQUENT SPEAKER. 249

and go away in perfect security. They may
even shake their fists at tlie guns, kick them,
or^ut their heads into the capacious bores, as
the menagerie man thrusts his head between
the gaping jaws of a tame old lion, and re-
main uninjured. But let the great gun be
loaded, and a gunner with lighted match, stand
at the touch-hole, and everybody knows what
may be expected. Let the worn-out old lion
be suddenly restored to his original savage
vigor, and loaded up with the juvenile energy
which he used ta have when he was a little
lion, living in a jungle, and he will perform
such a crack of the jaws as will leave the
headless trunk of the late menagerie man a
witness to the recklessness of its owner.

But it is important that the gun be rightly
loaded, and with the proper material. You
may stuff a fifteen-inch Dahlgren up to the
muzzle with snow, and no startling effects
will be produced. You may load with solid
shot, but if the solid shot have no gunpowder
behind it, the getting of it out again will be a

250 THE TRULY ELOQUENT SPEAKER.

difficult job. If the solid shot is an imper-
fect one, the probability is that it will go spin-
ning over the country in a vagrant fashion, in-
stead of going directly against what it was
intended to hit. Load with a shell, such as
some rebel sympathizers, in one of our navy-
yards, filled with saw-dust instead of the ex-
plosive things with which shells are expected
to be filled, and the result is the same as if
you fired iron kettles or tin pans at the
enemy.

So much for what is put -in the gun. N"ow
about getting it out, so as to accomplish
something with it.

A good gunner is ]oarticular about sighting
his gun, and aiming it, so as to carry the mis-
sile which it contains exactly to the right spot.
It must not be pointed too high or too low,
or too much on either side. He must have
the apparatus with which he touches it oiF, in
good order, and must apply it just at the
right time. If he is firing shell, he must have
the fuse so arranged that the explosion will

THE TRULY ELOQUENT SPEAKER. 251

take place at the right moment of tune. Oth-
erwise all his gunnery goes for nothing.

As with firing guns, so with making speech-
es. The eloquent^ man does not come to the
platform unloaded, and trusting to the force
of circumstances to put a load into him. He
is careful, before commencing his speech, to
prepare his material ; to have it of the right
kind, and to pack it in the very best way for
getting it out efiectively. There is no danger
that he will merely make a gunpowder flash,
and be done. Mr. Empty sometimes makes
a flash with startling efiect, and some of the
people think it is very fine. But it amounts
to nothing. The eloquent speaker does not
stufi" himself up with apologies, coughs, and
clearings of the throat, silly jokes, or long-
winded and pointless stories, all of which
things unhappily constitute the stock in trade
of many orators who stand before children.

So he is ready to fire off" his load. There
is a science in doing it rightly. It is not
everybody who is even crammed with knowl-

252 THE TRULY ELOQUENT SI'EAKER.

edge of the finest kind, that can make that
knowledge available to youthful hearers. Mr.
Slow goes to school all the period of his boy-
hood, then to college for four years, and to
theological seminary for three more ; and yet
the children of other people whom he tries to
address, suspect him of being a great booby.
Plenty of learning has been crammed into the
man, but it stuck fast, and there is no getting
it out. Mr. Poke is exceedingly wise, and
writes for the Journal of Science ; but Avhen
he addresses people, he puts his hands in his
pockets, stands on one leg, and hesitates and
stammers, till his sleepy audience are ready
to exchange him for any person, even of lim-
ited attainments, who will interest them, and
wake them up. The eloquent man begins in
earnest, continues in earnest, and stops when
he is done. He keeps his audience awake all
the time. They stay awake because they are
interested. Being interested, they are apt to
be instructed and profitted. The word which
is aimed directly at them, goes home to their
hearts, and does them good.

THE TEULY ELOQUENT SPEAKER. 253

Some people suppose that there is some
mysterious secret about success in addressing
children. This is a mistake. The only sci-
ence in it, is the science of being perfectly
natural, simple, and straight-forward. There
is no use of usinsf lon£>' or bombastic words to
children, when short and easy ones will
answer. Admit that children can and do use
and understand such long words as thermome-
ter, water-melon, and the like ; is there any
use in saying empyrean, when we mean shy?
When we wish to tell them that something is
very had, is it necessary to say that it is over-
whehningly heinous? If we do use such ex-
pressions, the children will be hopelessly con-
fused, and will not remember even enough to
ask their parents at home what all these wise
things mean. Some kind people y^j say
that these examples are extreme cases ; ])ut if
they will listen with pencil and paper in hand,
to many a Sunday School speech, they will
hear words as striking as these. I heard a
man who took for a text, in speaking to his

254 THE TRULY ELOQUENT SPEAKER.

Sunday School, the word " Sin." Surely short
enough. But he actually went on to talk to
them of the " overwhelming heinousness " of
sin ! It would have been an interesting ex-
perin\ent to examine the children on their
views of sin, after the discourse was over. I
heard iinother man, on another occasion, tell-
ing a church full of children, some long stuff
about being " potentially saved ! "

It is not necessary, on the other hand, to
descend, as some infantile reading books do,
to words of onl}^ three letters. This is incon-
sistent with true eloquence.

If we had more humility, and more of the
child-like simplicity of the gospel, we would
succeed better in intere~sting and instructing
the little people who are placed under our
care.

CHAPTEE XLII.

*^And the Speech pleased the Lord." 1 Kings 3: 10.

'/'i HIS is the sum of the whole matter This
vJy is the true test of the excellence of every
address that is made, whether to young per-
sons or to adults. If the speech is acceptable
to God, he follows it with his blessing. If it
is not well pleasing in his sight, it is of no
use, however much the congregation to whom
it Avas addressed may be delighted with it.

It is the custom, however, to measure the
excellence of speakers and their speeches by
a much lower test. Instead of asking whether
the speech, discourse, or sermon was accepta-
ble to God, the common question is, " How
did the people like it ? " or, " Does he draw a
full house?" Instead of asking if it was cal-
culated to do good, the inquiry is often made,.
" Did he tell any stories ? " or, " Did he say

25 5

256 AND THE SPEECH

anything funny ? " As manufacturers con-
sult the tastes and wishes of the people to
whom they expect to sell their goods, so as to
find a ready market for them when they are
made, it is not surprising that many speakers
and preachers of the Word, are led to give the
people what they see that the people want.
And the peoples' wants vary from time to
time. Although the demand for change of
style in public addresses is hardly as capri-
cious as that for change in style of bonnets or
coats, yet there is continual change. Our
forefathers would sit on oaken benches, in
houses of worship in wliich it was thought
sinful to erect stoves, even in the coldest
w^eather ; two weary hours would be spent in
giving heed to a discourse, often as dry as it
was long. Things have changed. A dis-
course of that length is now cut into about
three, and given to the hearers in such sizes
and shapes as can be more readily taken in.
Instead of the frigidity and oaken hardness of
the surroundings of worship, it is the fashion

PLEASED THE LOED. 257

to sit on cushioned seats, with comfortable
backs. The demand which probably existed
in those days for dullness in style and matter,
has perceptibly abated. If a speaker were
to rise, after the manner of the forefather
preachers, and tell us that he would now
proceed to treat his subject by dividing it
into six heads, each of which heads would
be sub-divided into four particulars, and
each particular again divided into subordinate
heads, numbered firstly, secondly, and third-
ly ; if said preacher were then to go on to do
all this, what a surprising effect would be pro-
duced on a congregation of worshippers in this
fast age of smart speakers, cushioned benches,
and warmed meeting houses. And if one
of the sensation speakers of modern times had
stood before a Massachusetts congregation
of 1663, his hearers would have been startled
out of their propriety, and would have won-
dered what the man was about. It would be
an interesting subject for discussion, which
sort of discourse is most acceptable to God ;

258 AND THE SPEECH

for, strange as the olden time sermon may-
seem to us, we cannot deny that some of our
forefathers attained a degree of godliness,
which, to say the least of it, is not surpassed
by the hearers of modern preaching and
speaking.

It is not, then, only the style and matter of
the speech that concerns its usefulness or ex-
cellence. There is something behind the
words we say which is even more important
than the discourse itself; though the congre-
gation may not be able to perceive it, or to
judge of its quality if they do. " Let the
words of my mouth, and the meditation of my
heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O, Lord, my
strength and my Redeemer." What is in our
heart controls and regulates that which we
utter. It may be high-sounding eloquence to
the ears of those who hear ; if it come not
from the heart, it is as empty froth. It may
not specially tickle the ear, or please the fan-
cy, and yet, if its motive is good, God accepts
it, and blesses it both to hearers and speaker.

PLEASED THE LORD. 259

The great duty in preparing and deliver-
ing a discourse of any kind, from an infant-
school talk to a sermon, is to see that our
hearts are right in the sight of God ; that what
we select to say is that which will honor God ;
that we may say just those things which will
lead our hearers »to increased godliness ; and
that we speak in such a way as to make them
hear and remember ; for if what we say is
God's message, we have no right to deliver it
in such a way as to produce no impression.

We serve a just God. He is not a hard
master. He puts upon us no more task than
we can accomplish, but he expects us to do
our work well. He gives us material and
tools, and expects us to use our material to the
best advantage, and to keep our tools in excel-
lent order. He gives us his message to deliver
to our perishing fellow sinners. It does not
please him if we give them something else
instead of it. It does not please him if we
mangle the message, so that they cannot un-
derstand it, or tell it in such a stupid way
that they go to sleep instead of listening to it.

260 THE SPEECH PLEASED THE LORD.

It is no light business to give the word of
eternal life to our fellow creatures, even
though they be little children. There is a
weighty responsibility assumed with every
speech that is delivered. Let us seek to bear
this responsibility worthily, " not handling
the word of God deceitfully ; but, by mani-
festations of the truth, commending ourselves
to every man's conscience in the sight of God."
So, when we speak, we shall speak the words
of wisdom, and speak them wisely, and, even
though we may not so much delight the itch-
ing ears of those who seek only amusement
and entertainment, we will have the better
record on high, ^* And the speech pleased the
Lord.''

CATALOGUE OF BOOKS

PUBLISHED AND FOR BALE BY

HENKY HOYT.

Ko. 9 Cornhill, Bo:$ton.

PICTORIAL CONCORDANCE of the Holy Scrip-
tures, with Chronological Tables, etc. By Rev.
John Brown 100

MILLENNIAL EXPERIENCE, or the Will of God
known and done from moment to moment. Illus-
trated from the Bible and the lives of eminent
Christians 1 25

THE HIGHER CHRISTIAN LIFE. A volume of re-
ligious experience. Illustrated by sketches from
history and fromlife 1 25

THE HARVEST WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT,
Illustrated in the Evangelist Labors of Rev, Edw.
Payson Hammond, in Great Britain and Amer-
ica. By Rev. P. C. Headley 100

CATALOGUE OF BOOKS.

SONGS, for Social and Public Worship ; containing
over 300 choice tunes, and 1039 hymns — the best
work extant - 1 00

THE STORY OF A POCKET BIBLE. An autobio-
graphy of the book itself, with ten splendid Illus-
trations 95

THE OLD RED HOUSE. By the author of Capt.
Russel's Watchword, Ellen Dacre, etc. One of the
ablest productions of this popular writer. Illust. 95

BERNICE, The Farmer's Daughter 85

THE MODEL MOTHER, Or, The Mother's Mis-
sion. A Narrative Work of uncommon interest
and power. 12mo Illustrated. 80

ONLY A PAUPER. A work of graphic interest.

Illustrated 80

OPPOSITE THE JAIL. By the author of the Child

Angel, etc. A narrative work of great power and

interest. 12mo. Illustrated 80

PALISSY, THE HUGUENOT POTTER. A Historic

Tale. 12mo. Illustrated 80

CAPT. RUSSEL'S WATCHWORD. Combining rar»

elements of interest and power. A book for boys.

Fully illustrated. 12mo 80

STRAIGHT FORWARD, or Walking in the Light.
By Lucy E. Guernsey, author of Irish Amy, Ready
Work, etc. Illustrated - 80

CATALOGUE OF BOOKS. 3

WORKING AND WINNING, or the Deaf Boy's
Triumph 80

CLIMBING THE MOUNTAIN, or how I rose in the
world. By the author of Old Bed House, Capt.
Russel's Watchword, Ellen Dacre, etc. Illustrated. 80

ELLEN DACRE, or Life at Aunt Hester's. By the
author of Capt. Russel's Watchword. Fully illust. 80

SEQUEL TO TIxM, THE SCISSORS-GRINDER. By
Mrs. Madeline Leslie. Beautifully illustrated 80

TALES FROM THE BIBLE. First Series. By Rev,
Wm. M. Thayer, author of Poor House to the Pul-
pit, Poor Boy and Merchant Prince. Beautifully
illustrated 80

THE LOST WILL. By Mrs. A. E. Porter. This work
had its origin in facts which took place in New
England. Illustrated 80

NOONDAY. By the author of Capt. Russel's Watch-
word, and the Old Red House 75

TIM THE SCISSOR-GRINDER, or Loving Christ
and Serving Him. Illustrated 75

PIETY AND PRIDE. An historic tale. Illustrated. 75

WILL COLLINS, or the Way to the Pit. By Miss
H. B. McKeever, author of Edith's Ministry, Sun-
shine, etc. Illustrated 75

'the ORGAN GRINDER, or Struggles after Holi-
• ness. By Mrs. Madeline Leslie, author of Tim the
Scissors-Grinder, Sequel to Tim, &c. Illustrated. 75

CATALOGUE OF BOOKS.

THE SOLDIER'S RETURN. Illus 70

ANTOINETTE. The original of the Child Angel.
By the author of Opposite the Jail. Illustrated ... 75

THE DRUNKARD'S DAUGHTER. By the author
of Ellen Dacre, Capt. Russel's Watchword, Old
Red House, Blind Ethan, etc. , Illustrated 70

LELIA AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. A splendid
Juvenile, with ninety-four illustrations 65

DAISEY DEANE. By the author of Grace Hale Il-
lustrated 65

GUYON'S LETTERS. Translated by Mrs. Prof.
Upham. 16mo. Illust 60

THE FLOUNCED ROBE AND WHAT IT COST.
By Miss H. B. McKeever, authoress of Will Col-
lins, etc. A book of surpassing interest and power.
12mo. 184pp. Illust.... 60

THE LITTLE MOUNTAIN GUIDE, or How to be
Happy. 18mo. Illustrated 50 |

THE GOLDEN MUSHROOM. By the author of the I

Watercress Sellers. Illustrated 50 j

THE SUNBEAM, and other Stories. Beautifully 11- |

lustrated 50

UNCLE JABEZ, or the History of a Man whose Boy-
hood was spent in the School of Adversity. Six
illustrations 5%

HANNAH LEE, or Walking in the Light. Illust. . . . 50

CATALOGUE OF BOOKS.

LIEUTENANT MESSINGER. Illus 50

LITTLE ONES IN THE FOLD. By Rev. Edward

Payson Hammond. 50

SIMILITUDES. By Miss Lucy Larcom, a writer of

rare excellence. Illustrated 50

THE CONQUERED HEART. By the author of

Hemlock Ridge, Robert Walton, etc. Illustrated.. . 45

JOHNNY McKAY, or the Sovereign. 18mo. Illust. 45
SOPHIE DE BRENTZ, or the Sword of Truth. By

the author of Hillside Farm. Illust 45

LITTLE MAY, or of What Use am I? Illustrated. 45

ROBERT WALTON, or the Great Idea. Illustrated. 45

THE FACTORY GIRLS. A touching narrative.

Fully illustrated 45

MOORCROFT HATCH. By A. L. 0. E. , one of the

most gifted writers of the age 45

PETE, THE GUNNER BOY. By Grandmother Hope.

Illustrated 45

CHARLEY ADAMS, the Morning Laborer. Illus. 40
THE BEGGAR'S CLOSET, and What it Contained.

Illustrated 40

ADDIE ANSLEY, or How to Make Others Happy. A
charming juvenile. Illust 40

HILLSIDE FARM, or Home Influences Illustrated.
A book for the family. Illus 40

CATALOGUE OF BOOKS.

THE FAITHFUL PROMISER, in- large type. A de-
Yotional work of great excellence 40

GRACE HALE. A book for girls. Fully illustrated 40

HEMLOCK RIDGE, or only Dan. White's Son. 18mo
Illustrated 40

MACKEREL WILL, The Thieving Fisher-boy. lUus. 40
THE BOUND BOY. By the author of Tim, Sequel
to Tim, Prairie Flower, etc. Illus 40

THE BOUND GIRL. By Mrs. Madeline Leslie,
author of Tim, etc. Illus 40

VIRGINIA, OR THE POWER OF GRACE. A touch-
ing narrative of a friendless orphan rescued from
the streets of New York. By the author of Tim.
Illus 40

JOE CARTON, or the Lost Key. A book for boys.
Illus 35

ROSE COTTAGE. A beautiful juvenile. Illus. ... 35

MILES LAWSON, or the Yews. Illus 35

ROSE DARLING, or the Path of Truth. By the
author of Joe Carton, Hop-Pickers, etc. Beauti-
fully illustrated 35

HENRY MINTURN, or my Dark Days. Beautifully
written and fully illustrated 35

MATTY FROST. A story for girls. By the author
of Grace Hale, Carrie Allison, Our Father's House,
etc. Illus 35

CATALOGUE OF BOOKS.

LITTLE APPLE BLOSSOM. By the author of Car
rie Allison, &c. Illus 35

HENRY LANGDON. By Louisa Payson Hopkins.
Illus 35

THE PRAIRIE FLOWER. By the author of Tim,
the Scissors-Grinder. A narrative of the tenderest
interest. Illust 35

PLEASANT SURPRISES. A charming juvenile.
Illustrated o... 35

THE LITTLE DRUMMER BOY. The Child of the
Thirteenth Regiment N. Y. S. M. : his character as
a Christian boy, and untimely death. Illus 35

STELLA, OR THE PATHWAY HEAVENWARD.
By the author of Opposite the Jail, Young Sergeant,
etc. Illus 30

SUNDAY SCHOOL SPEAKER, or. Children's Con-
cert. Twelve numbers— one for every month.
Each ^.... 30

PAPA'S LITTLE SOLDIERS. By C. E. K , author
of Grace Hale, Conquered Heart, Daisey Deane, etc.
Illus 30

CARRIE ALLISON, or in the Vineyard. By the
author of Grace Hale 30

WHr THE MILL WAS STOPPED, or Overcoming
Evil with Good. Illus 30

FRANK TALBOT, or Unstable as Water. Illus 30

GEORGE ROWLAND, The Servant Boy. Illus-. 30

8 CATALOGUE OF BOOKS.

THE PARISH HALL, and What Was Done There.

Fully illustrated 30

GRANDMOTHER TRUE, or When I was a Little

Girl. Illus 30

TEDDY WHITE, or the little Orange Sellers. Illus.. 30
OUR DEAR EDDIE. A rare example of piety in a

Sabbath School Scholar. Illus 30

LOSS OF THE SHIP KENT, by Fire. A work of
thrilling interest. Illus •• 30

THE YOUNG MILLINERS. A book for girls. Illus. 30

THE POWER OF FAITH. A narrative of Sarah

Jordan. Illus 30

THE YOUNG HOP-PICKERS. By the author of

Matty Gregg. Illus 30

TAKING A STAND. By Mrs. H. C. Knight, author
of Hugh Fisher, etc. A book for boys, and all

others who tamper with Strong Drink. Illus 30

OUR FATHER'S HOUSE. A sweet juvenile. Illus. 30
ANNIE LYON, or the Secret of a Happy Home. Illus 30
SOWING AND REAPING. A book for boys. Illus. 30
THE GOLD DIGGER. What he lost and what he

failed to realize. Illus 30

THE YOUNG SERGEANT, or the Triumphant
Soldier. By the author of Opposite the Jail,
Antoinette, etc 30

CATALOGUE OF BOOKS.

ALICE HAVEN. A book for girls. By the author

of Grace Hale, Carrie Allison, etc. Illus 30

THE TELESCOPE. An Allegory. Filled with Bible

truth, and clothed in beautiful imagery, Tllus 25

LEONARD DOBBIN, or the One Moss Rose. Illus.. 25
KITTY'S KNITTING-NEEDLES. A book for girls.

Illus 25

THE FOX HUNTER. A work of unspeakable value

to disciples. By Dr. Malan 25

NED, THE SHEPHERD BOY, changed to the Young

Christian. Illus 25

WILLIE AND CHARLIE, or ihe Way to be happy.

Illus 25

JANE THORNE, or the Head and the Heart. Illus.. 25
JENNIE CARTER, or Trust in God. By Catherine

D.Bell. Illus 25

PHILIP AND BESSIE, or Wisdom's Way. Illus.. . . 25
THE SABBATH SCHOOL CONCERT, or Children's

Meeting. Its History, Advantages, and Abuses,

with approved mode of conducting it 25

LEAVING HOME. By the author of Capt. Russel's

Watchword, Ellen Dacre, Old Red House, Blind

Ethan, etc. Illus 25

LITTLE JERRY, The Ragged Urchin, and under

what Teachings he was Reclaimed from the Street.

lilas 25

10 CATALOGUE OP BOOKS.

THE BELIEVING TRADESMAN, an authentic story,
and a wonderful illustration of the power of faith.
It has few parallels in history. lUus 25

THE SUNDAY EXCURSION, and what came of it. A
timely work. Illils 25

BLIND ETHAN. By the author of Capt. Russel's
Watchword. lUus 25

ROBERT RAIKES, the founder of Sabbath Schools
By Rev. Dr. Cornell. An entirely new and original

work. Elegantly illustrated 25

SONGS FOR THE SUNDAY SCHOOL AND VES-
TRY 20

BENNY'S BIRDS. Illus - 25

STOLEN GOLD PIECE. Illus 25

ALICE FIELD. Illus 25

SEALING THE SPIRIT 20

THE REMEMBERED PRAYER. A charming juve-
nile. Illus 20

SHIPS IN THE MIST. By the author of Similitudes,
etc. Illus 20

LAZY STEPHEN, and what made him a valuable
Man. Illus , 20

THE LOST HALF CROWN. A charming juvenile.
Fully illustrated 20

TOM MATHER AND THE LOST PURSE. Reveal-
ing the Workings of Conscience in a Little Boy'a
mind. Illus 20

CATALOGUE OF BOOKS. 11

JESSIE AT THE SPRING, and Other Stories. De-
signed for children and youth 20

THE LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER'S DAUGHTER. A
charming example of Christian faith in a child. Ill 20

WILLIE WILSON. A dear child was Willie. The
story and its associations speak for themselves. Ill 20

THE YOUNG RECRUITING SERGEANT. The mind
of a little child sometimes exercises a potential in-
fluence over that of an adult. Illus 20

YES AND NO. Two very hard words to speak in
the light of a temptation. Illus 20

TOM BRIAN IN TROUBLE. Much easier is it to
get out of it. This story is a practical commentary
on a great truth. Illus 20

DREAMING AND DOING, and Other Stories. Great
truths in life experiences. Illus 20

SANCTIFICATION. By Rev. J. Q. Adams 20

THE HANDCUFFS, or the Deserter. Illus .... a ... . 15

THE LUNATIC AND HIS KEEPER, and other narra-
tives. Illus 15

MUST I NOT STRIVE? or the Poor Man's Dinner.

Illus 15

THE LOST TICKET, or Is your Life Insured ? Illus. 15

THE CHILD ANGEL. Illus 15

THE DREAM OF HEAVEN. A narrative work of

touching interest. Tenth thousand 15

SUNBEAMS FOR HUMAN HEARTS 15

DATE DUE

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