He’d such a dirty face.
When Rufus was a little boy he behaved well, obeyed his parents, and was kind to his sister. He used to go to school and to Sunday School with her, and they studied their lessons together; but as he grew older he began to get acquainted with bad boys, and preferred playing with them in the street to playing with Maria at home. He is now a big boy, has
learned to fight, and thinks it manly to smoke a cigar and to swear. His father and mother have taken a great deal of pains to induce him to break off his evil habits, but if he follows his present course, he will become a bad and miserable man, and be likely to come to an untimely end by accident or the punishment of crime.
As Richard and his good Papa
Were walking in the fields afar
They passed a garden fence;
A fence more rude than I should choose
To guard my ripening vergaloos,
From boyhood’s tempting sense.
Such fruit there hung in golden pride,
Thicker than all the leaves could hide,
All mellow, ripe, and sweet.
Young Richard cast a longing eye,
Complain’d that he was very dry,
And suffering with the heat.
“I’m thirsty too,” said his papa;
“I’m sorry that we came so far;
But never mind, my son.”
“O see! papa, how many pears
That tree within the garden bears!
Pray let me go get one.
I can be back here very quick;
Just there the hedge-row is not thick;
I’m sure I can get through it.
The pear tree is not very high,
A pole to knock them off is nigh,
They will not see me do it.”
To which his father answer’d thus:
“My son, they don’t belong to us
To take them would be theft—
A wicked and degrading crime
Which none can do at any time
With a clear conscience left.
I am asham’d of such a thought;
Remember what you have been taught
The scriptures do declare,
We must not steal—’tis clearly wrong
To take what don’t to us belong—
I would not steal a pear.
Such little things are Satan’s traps:
You might get thro’ the hedge perhaps,
And take a pear unseen—
Except by that omniscient One
Who knows thy very thoughts my son;
From him there is no screen.
God sees in secret; and he knows
The schemes which sinful men propose,
And strikes their heart with guilt.
O’er such his righteous vengeance hangs,
Unless repentance ease their pangs,
And faith on Jesus built.”
Touch’d with remorse at this rebuke
Young Richard, with a downcast look
And tears he could not hide,
Felt every word his father said,
Assenting bow’d his little head,
And press’d him to his side.
“It was a wicked thought,” said he;
“I would not do a robbery,
Though none but God should know it.
I see it in another light,
And now I know it is not right;
I’m glad I did not do it.
’Tis well I had a guardian,”—
That instant started up a man
Who lay behind the fence.
The owner of this snug retreat
Had sought repose from toil and heat,
And now looked o’er from thence.
Apprised of what had just occurr’d,
(For all that passed he had overheard,)
He thus address’d the lad:
“Temptation comes in many a shape;
Be thankful, child, for this escape,
And for the advice you’ve had.
You little know, that to preserve
Those fruits which for my living serve,
I had contrived a gin;
And had you acted on your thought,
You had infallibly been caught,
And punish’d for your sin.
’Tis well your father’s timely care
Preserv’d
