The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1888-06-28
Darlington, S. @.
How to Manage Boys.

islands and wrecked sailors until he
could shut his eyes and see parrots and
monkeys aud 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 reduced to q
goat-skin oyer-coat, I should take him
out behind the barn and say:
"My son, + see that you are not happy,
you evidently hunger for something
which my limited means 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 a few miles down. Get two or
three pieces of tarred rope, q plug Of
navy tobacco and a fish hook, and go on
with the wrecking business. If you like
1t, come home at the end of q week, and
I'll send you out to the Pacific, where
the mosquitoes are bigger and the canni-
balls more numerous"
If the boy went I should look for him
back next morning certainly at the end
oftwo days, and when he got back the
subject should be tabooed forever.
Itis natural for every boy to yearn for
the deep blue sea and the life of a sailor.
He hasn't the least idea that sailor has
anything to do but sit around the cap.
tain 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 bronze
on his face and roll to his gait. Don't
give your boy 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 clothesline that you we're
born for nautical cut TO your jib, and
it is plain enough that the bounding bill
low is your true element I have
arranged for you to make trip on the
lakes, and will then help you to get
berth on an. .Indiaman. Be all ready to-
morrow morning, James, !
I'd sput-him2 on a boarda schooner
bound, say, from Oswego to Chicago, and
I'd forward money to Chicago for him to
come home by rail. Ifthe money wasn't
there he'd come home on foot. With
the dark, damp forecastle-the sea sick
ness-the curses and ropes endiugs from
the mateAhe pulling and hauling
grease and tar buckets, he'd land 10 Chi.
cago feeling that it would be privilege
to live on turnip at home and sleep in
the garret on straw bed. I've been right
there, and I know.
No father should be surprised if his
boy develops yearning to become a
mighty hunter. There is something
highly fascinating in the idea of knock
ing over bufaloes, tigers, elephants and
girafes, and of successful encounters
with alligators and boa constructors.
When The signs begin to crop out the
father should be ready. Take the boy
out and sit down on log with him and
say:
"James, it's burning shame for me
to keep you around home here and spoil
your whole future. 1 came across bar
of lead, half a pound of salt and loaf of
bread which you secreted in the oat bin
yesterday as starter for going West.
There's no need of any slyness, my son.
I want you to 60. I shall be proud of
you if you become a great hunter. I'll
lend you the shot gun and two horse
blankets and a frying 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 snd
send you to the Black Hills"
He'd be almost certain to come sneak.
ing into the back door before bed time,
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 hoot of an owl, and to
promise himself over and over again:
"Just let me live till morning and l
hope to die if I ever leave home again !"
M. Quad, in Detroit Free Press.