Northern tribune. [volume] (Cheboygan, Mich.) 1875-1885, 1885-05-28
ADVICE TO A YOUNG MAN.


Some Serious Words from . Man Who
Usually Writes Very Funny Articles.
turn over the leaves of an old note
book, the pages of which filled half a
score of years ago. On one page find
this note:
my books are all wrinkled and filled with
crumbs of maple and sumac leaves, with here
the printed one. All, we'll, some time may
kiss the wrinkled pages of my choicest book
while ! think OF the dear, white hands that
and thank God that the page is wrinkled and
the engraving discolored."
And now, whenever l turn to that
page in the note book, do you know,
my boy, how glad l am that l wrote
about the leaves as l didp There was
little home then. There was no reason
why l should feel so tenderly toward
the leaves and stems that stained and
wrinkled my books, and ever kept me
from using them for week at time,
was therep All, indeed, there was. In
deed, there was. Because love is better
than books, my boy. Because your
books, my son, though you crowd
the literary treasures of the world
upon your shelves, can never
creep into your heart as your wife will,
some day, when you find the girl whom
the gods have decreed shall crown
your home. Because we should always
hold the hearts that love us nearer to us
than the petty annOyances and little ills
of this life. Because the quick, hasty
word you speak in ill temper or ungen-
tleness to-day my boy, leaves a sting in
your heart to rankle half a century
away. Because to-day, if / could,
would burn up every book there is in all
this world Just to feel the little hands
that laid those leaves in the pages where
said they must not 60, clasp themselves
about my neck for one hour. Hold your
tongue and your pen, my boy. Every
time yon are tempted to say an ungentle
word, or write an unkind line, or say a
mean, ungracious thing about anybody,
Just stop; look ahead twenty-five years,
and think how it may come back to you
then.
Let me tell you how l write mean
letters and bitter editorials, my boy.
Some time, when a man has pitched
into me and "cut me up rough" and l
want to pulverize him, and wear his
CORY scalp at my girdle and hang his
hide on my fence, l write the letter or
editorial that is to do the business. L
write something that will drive sleep
from his eyes and peace from his soul
for six weeks. o., | do hold him over
slow fire and roast him. Gall and
aquafortis drip from my blistering pen.
4 oil thn
print the editorial. There's always
plenty of time to cruelty man. The
vilest criminal is entitled to little re-
prieve. Iput the manuscript away in
drawer. Next day l look at it. The
ink is cold read it over and say: II
don't know about this. There's good
deal of bludgeon and bowie knife jour-
nalism in that. I'll hold it over day
longer" The next day read it again.
laugh, and say 'Pshaw," and l can
feel my cheeks getting little hot. The
fact is am ashamed that ever wrote
it, and hope that nobody has seen it.,
and l have half forgotten the article or
letter that filled my soul with rage. 1
haven't been hurt, | haven't hurt any
body, and the world goes right along,
making twenty-four hours a day as usu-
al, and 1 am all the happier. Try it,
my boy. Put off your bitter remarks
until tomorrow. Then when you try to
say them deliberately you'll find that
you have forgotten them, and ten years
later, ah, how glad you will be that you
did. Be good-natured, my boy. Be
loving and gentle with the world, and
you'll be amazed to see how dearly and
tenderly the worried, tried, vexed, har-
assed old world loves you.-Robt. D.
Burdette, in Brooklyn Eagle.