of hearing and among rude companions, as is sometimes the case with boys. He was accustomed to obey, and to treat his father and mother kindly, affectionately and with reverence. He had a very courageous and persevering spirit, and was a truly manly boy; using this term as indicating much good sense, self-control, high thought, and a good degree of freedom from that mischievousness so apt to detract from the interest which otherwise would always attend the simplicity and sprightliness of childhood. He was a truthful and conscientious boy; and, though lively and as fond of sport and activity as any lad, he was yet thoughtful. He was a generous boy. As he was leaving his uncle's house to take the fatal train, he sought out the errand boy, and urged upon him all the pocket-money he had, as a token of kind feeling, quite as much as an acknowledgment for attentions received. He always pitied the poor, and was desirous to aid them. He readily sympathized with any one deprived of what he enjoyed. As an illustration of this, when, a few days before his death, he was about accompanying a party of young comrades on a skating excursion, he could not leave the house before going to condole with a cousin of his own age, unable to join them from illness. He lingered by his bedside, repeating again and again his regrets and sympathy, quite to the surprise of his companions, who had not thought of the thing themselves. He was also remarkably free from that foolish, offensive vanity and pride, which children, having parents of wealth or position, are so apt to exhibit. It was very pleasant, during the pending presidential election this last summer, when some of his young companions would rally him upon politics and his father's situation, to see him skilfully parry the thrusts with a "Mr. Webster is my candidate," or some other ready and happy rejoinder. And when others would question in regard to his feelings about going to Washington, he was wont to reply that he should never go there. It was almost prophetic. But what is most worthy of notice, and that which is the chief satisfaction to friends now, is the interest he felt in religious things, and the evidence given that the Holy Spirit had renewed his heart. He was the object of the most constant solicitude and best desires of both parents; yet, from his father's many engagements away from home, and also his mother's situation and state of health, he was far more in the society of a Christian and devoted mother than are most children of even pious parents. In all her influence and intercourse with him, she had uppermost in her mind and heart the securing of "the one thing needful" for him. She had wisely gained a freedom of intercommunication with him upon religious subjects, so that he could readily speak to her of all his anxieties and thoughts upon such matters. Benny loved religious conversation and religious instruction. Long since, the Bible seemed to have a peculiar power and fascination over him. An interesting illustration of this occurred while once on a visit to his uncle at Andover. Some time after the children had retired one night, his aunt ascertained that Benny was wakeful and restless. She inquired if he was ill. He replied that he was not, and, in his own courteous way, requested her not to be troubled about him, as he should soon, he thought, be asleep. An hour later, she looked in upon him again, and found that he was still tossing and sleepless. On sitting down by his bedside and asking if she could not do something for him, he still replied "no," with the customary "thank you;" but, after a little, said, "I think, Aunt Mary, if you would be so kind as to repeat to me something from the Bible, I should soon be quiet and go to sleep." "And is there any particular portion you will choose, Benny?" said his aunt. "I would like much to hear the fifth chapter of Matthew," he replied. "But I do not think I can remember it all." "Well, I will help you, then; I think we can together," said Benny. By their mutual aid they succeeded, and the desired effect was accomplished. The beatitudes pronounced by the Saviour, with the other sentiments of moral beauty comprising the sermon on the mount, delighted and soothed his spirit, and he soon fell asleep. With the Bible, he had also come to have an interest and satisfaction in other religious reading, such as most lads have but the least taste for. It was but a few months before his death that he brought home from the Sabbath school a volume entirely occupied with the plain, pungent exhibition of evangelical truth and doctrine, so little conformed to the ordinary tastes of one of his years, and indeed to the tastes of but very few of any age, as quite to surprise his mother; and especially his request to keep it beyond the usual allotted time, for re-perusal, pleading that he was quite sure it would not be wanted by the other boys of his class, because it was such a book as they would not care to read. He loved the devotions of the family altar, and of the house of God. He had a great fear of sin, and seemed to have a genuine aversion to it. Although as fond of companionship and play as boys usually are, yet he would occasionally say to his mother, as he looked from the windows of her room upon his playmates in the street, that he feared to join them, lest he might do something wrong, and thereby lose his good impressions and serious feelings. Once, after a period of quiet and reflection, she was almost startled when he said, "Mother, I wish I had died when little brother did; I think it would be better for me to die now than live any longer." Dreading to see any cloud unnaturally shading boyhood's bright vision, and fearing that his feelings might result from mistaken parental management, she said, "My son, are you not happy? Is not life pleasant to you?" "Yes, mother," he replied, "I am happy, happier, I think, than most boys; but if I live to grow up, I shall meet so much temptation, and be exposed to so much sin, I think it would be better for me to die now." His opinion not long after had the sanction of a higher One; Heaven thought so too, and took him from a tempting and sinful world. The last summer, particularly, Benny was more than ever interested in the subject of religion. Benny was a child of many prayers. His sainted grandfather, upon his mother's side, that most excellent man and divine, the late President Appleton, was accustomed at the family altar to offer the petition that "his children and his children's children, to the latest generation, might be heirs of the grace of life." We are most happy in feeling that this prayer was answered in relation to this dear child. The stricken parents whose woe has made their honors but a mockery, have, in what God did for their dear boy, a great solace, which will abide with them till the broken circle be reünited. Among the mournful lessons taught us by that terrible catastro phe which made our honored and beloved President and his wife childless, and which wrung the hearts of fathers and mothers in the land with sorrow and sympathy for them,- among the many obvious and important lessons uttered in that providence, this is doubtless one; that parents should devote themselves with more faithfulness and expectation to the religious welfare of their children; for, in a moment, the most flattering earthly prospects may be blasted. Parents, remember that, if your children be taken away, nothing will so comfort you as some evidences that the Holy Spirit had been admitted to their hearts. Have your thoughts, therefore, first upon your children's souls and their immortality, and never lose sight of the thoughts suggested and the incitements and encouragements held out by those words of Jesus: "Suffer the little children to come unto me, for of such is the kingdom of heaven." "If ever in the human heart A fitting season there can be, Worthy of its immortal part, "It is in that unsullied hour, Before the world has claimed his own; "When still the youthful spirit bears "Then is the time for faith and love To take in charge their precious care, Teach the young eye to look above, Teach the young knee to bend in prayer. "This work is ours; this charge was thine, And teach its triumph o'er the grave." A GODLY man's comforts and grievances are hid from the world. Natural men are strangers to them. |