St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1888-07-19
HOW TO MANAGE BOYS.
By M. Quad, in Detroit Free Press.


If had boy who had read of green
islands and wrecked sailors until he
could shut his eyes and see parrots and
monkeys and cocoanuts and waving
palms-if he had firmly made up his
mind that he could never be happy
until cast away on an island and re-
duced to a goat-skin overcoat, should
take him out behind the barn and say i:
"My son, see that you are not hap
ply. You evidently hunger for some
thing which my limited m" ans will not
permit me to give you. | think you
want to be wrecked. Very we'll.
| There's the river and an old skiff, and
you can find an island few miles
down. Get two or three pieces of tar
red rope, plug of navy tobacco and a
fish hook and go on with the wrecking
business. If you like it, come home at
the end of week and I'll send you
out to the Pacific, where the mosquitoes
| are bigger and the cannibals more nu-
merous."
If the boy went should look for him
back next morning-certainly at the
end of two days, and when he got back
the subject should be tabOOed forever.
1t is natural fol every boy to yearn
for the deep blue sea and the life of a
sailor. He hasn't the least idea that a
sailor has anything to do but sit around
the capstan and spin yarns and answer,
"Aye! aye! sir!" when the captain
calls out the name of Jack Brace. He
therefore desires to go to sea and visit
foreign countries and come home with
the broze on his face and roll to his
gait. Don't give your boy a chance to
run away. When the signs become
plain have your plans all perfected and
be ready to say:
"James, anybody could tell by the
way you handle Il clothesline that you
were born for q nautical cut to your
jib, and it is plain enough that the
bounding billOw is your true element.
[ have arranged for you to make trip
on the lakes, and will then help you to
get a berth on an Indiaman. Be all
ready tomorrow morning, James,"
I'd put him On board schooner
bound, say, from Oswego to Chicago,
and I'd forward money to Chicago for
him to come home by rail. If the mon
ey wasn't there he'd come home on
foot. With the dark, damp forecastle
the seasickness-th curses and
ropes ending from the mate-the pull
ing and hauling-grease and tar buck
cts he'd land in Chicago feeling that it
would be privilege to live on turnip
at home and sleep in the garnet on a
straw bed. I've been right there, and
| know.
No father should be surprised if his
boy develops a yearning to become a
mighty hunter. There is something
highly fascinating in the idea of knock
ing over butfaloes, lions, tigers, ele-
plants and giraffes and of successful
encounters with alligators and boa con-
strictors. When the signs begin to
crop out the father should be ready.
Take the boy out and sit down on q
log with him and say:
''James, it's a burning shame for me
to keep you around home here and
spoil your whole future. l came across
a bar of lead, half pound of salt and
a loaf of bread which you secreted in
the oat bin yesterday as a starter for
going West. There's no need of any
slyness, my son. [ want you to go. l
shall be proud of you if you become
great hunter. I'll lend you the shot
gun and two horse blankets and fry
ing pan and help you to carry them to
the nearest piece of woods. If you'll
stay there three days and three nights,
then I'll fit you out and send you to
the Black Hills"
He'd be almost certain to come sneak
ing into the back door before bedtime,
but if he put it off until morning so
much the better. He'd have the whole
night in which to turn pale, look about
with wild eyes, shiver at every sound,
hold his breath at the boot of an owl,
and to promise himself over and over
again:
Just let me live till morning and 1
hope to die if l ever leave home again !"