The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1880-09-16
Deal Gently With the Boys.

o IT don't believe in being too strict
with boys" said Col. Morton. Give
seen good deal of the world in general,
and have learned some lessons in regard
to the treatment of boys that I will
never forget. I remember particularly
little incident that occurred some years
ago on board o vessel, then lying in New
York harbor, in which I had taken pass
age for Liverpool. While I stood on
the deck idly watching the crowds on
shore and on the decks of the different
vessels moored around us, ships yawl
belonging to a craft that lay some dis
lance below us was rowed alongside, and
an old gentlemen, one of the sternest-
looking men I ever saw, came aboard
and inquired for the Captain. He was
shown below, and after an absence of
half an hour reappeared on deck accom-
panied by the latter. AS the two passed
group Of four sailors the men touched
their caps politely, and one of them, the
youngest, and about the roughest-look-
ing Of the four, turned and looked after
them with startled, eager gaze, and an
expression of mingled bitterness, aston
ishment and vague regret on his bronzed
and weather-beaten face. The old gen.
tleman re-entered the yawl and was
rowed rapidly back to the ship, the sails
of which were already being hoisted;
and, when the boats had reached her
side, it's occupants mounted hastily on
deck, and the great white-winged bird
Of the ocean was moving slowly down
the bay, the sailor, who was still looking
after it with the singular expression on
his face, turned to his companions and
said coolly and quietly: Mates, would
you like to know who that old gentleman
is?' why, yes, if he's anything out of
the common run, responded one of the
men. who is he, Charlie Q well,
mates, don't know that he has any
thing in particular to distinguish him
from other men, only he Well, mates,
that old gentleman is my father!' At this
astounding revelation faced about and
regarded him in silent, incredulous
amazepent, the men stared at him for a
full minute in mute, open-mouthed as
tonishment, and then your father,
calculated they in chorus, your father !!
Lord bless us, Charlie But you don't
expect us to believe that?' The sailor
laughed q careless, half-mocking laugh.
1T is rather tough statement coming
from such poor devil as T. said he,
'but I'd swear to it's truth if I was go
ing to swing the next minute on the
yardarm. I haven't seen him since was
14years old, and I was 81 yesterday
"sLord bless u.s. repeated the men,
'but he didn't know you, Charlie?'. -.
"Know me! God, no! Thirteen
years have changed me cussed sight
more than they have him. But he's my
father, for all that, and I'm precious
glad he didn't know me as did him the in
slant I sighted his face was the an
swer.
"sTell us tne story, Charlie; tell u.
the story was the eager request.
"'Not while that craft is in sight
mates and his eyes looked after thu
slowly. receding ship, with ha]f-long
ing, half-weary expression in their brown
depths wait till tonight, and I'll tel
! you the story. Aye, aye, sir and h
turned away in answer to call from tn
Captain. n +r..... t...f.,. .....s a... h.
Cells father! Could it be p I thought
looking after the tall, broad-shouldered
roughly-clad seaman. This rough
profane, reckless-looking sailor the sol
Of that dignifed, refined, and evidentl,,
wealthy old gentleman It was har'
to believe, but determined to hear hi
story, and I did. Coming upon hin
some hours afterward, asked permis
! sion to do so. 4. .-.. 9.. .r... s.s.
"tCertainly, sir, he answered, touch
;. ing his cap with ocean-bred poiteness
( If you think it worth your while
4 'iAnd thatnight, standing on themoon
/ lit deck, with crew and passenger
around him, Charlie told his story.
"'I didn't expect to have SO man
hearers he began, coiling his arm
sailor-fashion ON his broad breast; and
dare say that when you've heard m
: yarn, you'll all think that the time 20
spent in listening to it was wasted, but
such as it is, you are welcome to hear il
AS I've said, the old gentleman who wa
on board this morning is my father. Il
is, or was when he called me his son,
wealthy merchant of New Orleans.
was his only child, and. il he'd been
different father. might now be dl
ferent man, better man, may be, an
! not the rowing, homeless castaway that
am. I had little affection for him, an