Year: 1872

S. G. KENDALL says some very true and
suggestive things about The Boy john
in the April number of Scri6nei's. We
quote as follows:


John is young. His tastes are uniformed.
His feelings are very far from being re-
fined. In fact he is little gross in his
sympathies. He wants amusement. Every
bone in his body aches for recreation, for
! play, fun, laughter. He does not care
he has never been taught to care-what
the fun is, if it will only give relief to
the fidget that stings him. Not at all re-
fined, he will go for what he wants where
others CO. And going where others go,
he finds the hunger of his nature coarsely
met-iust as tainted meat will fill the
hunger of starving man-in the low
revelry, vile stories, unclean mirth of
drinking-cellars and saloon. The boy
does not discriminate very closely, and
to the longing of his crude appetite the
entertainment of these places is infinitely
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 a Christian
home; but for good time, for passing a
dull evening hour, for learning something
new, for words of. cheer, for professions
of sympathy, for those genial ways which
a boy does love, and which any boy but
Uriah Heep must love, John will tell even
the minister to his face that home is no.
thing to a street corner, or a billiard
room with the attachment of 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
Z.
John?"


Where is he? Why, for want of better
instruction, he is out practicing our mod
ern plan of training himself up in the way
he likes to go, having no thought that
when he is old he will 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 90
out. He wonders that John cannot sit
down at home like other boys. What
other boys? And then, with gery feel
ing remark that, "If John does not do
better and become steady, he will make a
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
fidget of the early evening spent in relax
ations which, of some kind, boy must
have-and then at last the house is quiet
Sleep and rest prepare the household
for another day and evening like these.


And when that other evening comes,
out goes the boy again; and the father
again wonders, 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 at
tractiye and winsom to him as Johns
home He would like amusements
suited to his young, restless, brimming
nature 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, 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 action were say
ing, My boy want you to love your
home more than any other spot of
earth ?"


1t has often been impressed upon the
nira1 Of l,nN