The Portland daily press., 1872-03-21
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THURSDAY MORNINGS MARCH d, 1a.
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The Boy John.

. ..4.a f.
5. c. Kendall says some very true and sug-
gestive things about ''''The Boy john in the
April number of Scribner's. We quote as fol-
lows:- f.....Iu ....tt
John is young. His tastes are uniformed.
His feelings are very far from being refined.
In TACT he is little gross in his sympathies.
he wants amusement. Every bone in his
body aches for recreation, for play, fun, laugh
ter. He does not care-he has never been
taught to care-what the fun is, if only it will
give relief to the fidget that stings him. Not
at all refined, he will go for what he wants
where others go. And going where others
go, he finds the hunger of his nature coarsely
met-just as tainted meat will fill the hunger
of a starving man-in the low revelry, vile
stories, unclean mirth of drinking-ce and
saloons. The boy does not discriminate very
blosely, and to the longings of his crude appe-
tite the entertainment of these places is inf
nitely better than any he ever could find in
that place which he has been taught to speak
OF as home. For eating and sleeping and
getting his clothes mended, he feels that no
place can be equal to Christian home; but
III Soou tiic, lor passing uul evening
hour, Tor learning something new, for words
OF cheer, for professions of sympathy, for
those genial ways which boy does love, and
which any boy but Uriah Heep must love,
John will tell even the minister to his face
that home is nothing to the street corner, or
billiard-room with the attachment of a beer
shop. :.
well, by and by, just before the clock
strikes ten, the father wakes from his doze,
the spectacles falling and the paper sliding
upon the floor, and, looking round with a be-
wildered gaze, asks. ''Where is John?''
Where is he? Why, for want of better in
struction, he is out practicing our modern
plan of training himself up in the way he
likes to go, having no thought that when he
is old he viii care to depart from it, But the
father who has inquired for his boy rubs his
eyes, looks out into the darkness, and listens;
but he hears him not. He wishes that his
boy would not go out so of nights; but then
he does go out. He wonders that John can
not sit down at home like other boys. What
other boys? And then, with uery feeling
remark that, ''If John does not do better and
become steady, he will make miserable
shirk OF himself" the father goes to bed. The
mother Waits till her boy comes. BY and by
he does come in,-his restlessness blown off,
the uneasy fdget of the early evening spent
in relaxations which, of some kind, boy
lnuSI naVe,-anQ tnen at last the house Is
quiet. Sleep and rest prepare the household
for another day and evening like these. la
And when that other evening comes out
goes the boy again; and the father again won
ders and wishes that John would be steady
and stay at home, and very feelingly predicts
that. IF he does not change his course, he
will very likely come to a miserable end.''
But, good father, why should your boy
spend his evenings at home? What is there
at home for him? What pleasant recreation,
what happy plan for Willing away the hour,
does he find inviting him there, or that would
invite any boy there? What have you done
to make home attractive and winsome as
Johns home? He would like amusements
suited to his young, restless, brimming ma
ture; but how much real thought and care
did you ever give in schemes, devices, plans,
efforts, with view to meeting this passionate
yearning of his mind? How much do you
play with him, tell stories with him, make
riddles with him, talk with him of what you
have done and seen, and of what your father
did and saw? What games, what sports,
what efforts at skill with slate and pencil,
with knife, saw, and gimlet, have you devised
for him. while your look and actions were
saying, my boy, want you to love your
home more than any other SPOT of earth ?''