Beware of those who are homeless by choice! You have no hold on a human being whose affections are without a tap-root!
When I was a young man, there lived in our neighborhood one who was universally reported to be a very liberal man, and uncommonly upright in his dealings. When he had any of the produce of his farm to dispose of, he made it an invariable rule to give good measure, over good, rather more than could be required of him. One of his friends, observing him frequently doing so, questioned him why he did it, told him he gave too much, and said it would not be to his own advantage. Now mark the answer of this man. "God Almighty has permitted me but one journey through the world; and when gone I cannot return to rectify mistakes."
To be honest and faithful is to belong to the only aristocracy in the world—and the smallest.
On one occasion the first Napoleon being informed that a certain army contractor had cheated the government by supplying the troops with very inferior and insufficient food, sent for him to inquire into the affair. "How is this?" said the Emperor: "I understand you have been violating your contract." "Sire," was the answer, "I must live." "No," replied the monarch, "I do not see the must. It is not necessary that you should live; but it is necessary that you should do right."
Too much assertion gives ground of suspicion; truth and honesty have no need of loud protestations.
Can any one who was present ever forget the broken voice and streaming tears with which he (Dean Stanley) told the story of two little Scotch boys, Reuben and Sandy? The story was as follows: "On a cold winter day, a gentleman in Edinburgh had, out of pity, bought a box of matches from a poor, little, shivering boy, and, as he had no pence, had given him a shilling, of which the change was to be brought to his hotel. Hours passed by, and the boy did not return. Very late in the evening a mere child came to the hotel. 'Are you the gentleman that bought the matches frae Sandy?' 'Yes.' 'Well, then, here's fourpence out o' yer' shillin'; Sandy canna come. He's verra ill. A cart ran over him and knocked him doon, and he lost his bonnet and his matches and yer sevenpence, and baith his legs are broken, and the doctor says he'll dee; and that's a'.' And then, putting down the fourpence on the table, the poor child burst into great sobs. 'So I fed the little man,' said the narrator; 'and I went with him to see Sandy. The two little things were living almost alone; their father and mother were dead. Poor Sandy was lying on a bundle of shavings. He knew me as soon as I came in, and said, 'I got the change, sir, and was coming back, and then the cart knocked me down, and both my legs were broken; and oh, Reuby, little Reuby, I am sure I am dying, and who will take care of you when I am gone? What will ye do?' 'I took his hand, and said I would always take care of Reuby. He understood me, and had just strength enough to look up as if to thank me; the light went out of his blue eyes. In a moment,
Honesty.—If he does really think that there is no distinction between virtue and vice, why sir, when he leaves our houses let us count our spoons.
He, the Duke of Devonshire, was not a man of superior abilities, but was a man strictly faithful to his word. If, for instance, he had promised you an acorn, and none had grown that year in his woods, he would not have contented himself with that excuse: he would have sent to Denmark for it, so unconditional was he in keeping his word—so high as to the point of honor.
Honor is like the eye which cannot suffer the least injury without damage; it is a precious stone, the price of which is lessened by the least flaw.
A poor man claimed a house which a rich man had seized. The former produced his deeds and instruments to prove his right, but the latter had provided a number of witnesses; and, to support their evidence the more effectually, he secretly presented the cadi with a bag containing five hundred ducats, which the cadi received. When it came to a hearing, the poor man told his story and produced his writings, but lacked witnesses. The other, provided with witnesses, laid his whole stress on them and on his adversary's defective law, who could produce none; he, therefore, urged the cadi to give sentence in his favor. After the most pressing solicitations, the judge calmly drew from beneath his sofa the bag of five hundred ducats, which the rich man had given him as a bribe, saying to him very gravely, "You have been much mistaken in the suit; for if the poor man could produce no witnesses in confirmation of his right, I, myself, can furnish him with at least five hundred." He threw him the bag with reproach and indignation and decreed the house to the poor plaintiff.
What greater ornament is there to a son than a father's glory; or what to a father than a son's honorable conduct?
By Hook or Crook.—This saying is probably derived from a forest custom. Persons entitled to fuel wood in the king's forest were only authorized to take it of the dead wood or branches of trees in the forest, "with a cart, a hook, and a crook."
In all things it is better to hope than to despair.
He that lives upon hopes will die fasting.
Hoping is the finest sort of courage and you can never have enough of it.
Were it no for hope the heart wad break.
Our hopes often end in—hopes.
The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun. The brightness of our life is gone.
Hope is sometimes a delusion; no hand can grasp a wave or a shadow.
Hope.—"Hast thou hope?" they asked of John Knox, when he lay a-dying. He spoke nothing, but "raised his finger and pointed upward," and so died.
All our sweetest hours fly fastest.
Though we should be grateful for good homes, there is no house like God's out-of-doors.
Boswell: "I happened to start a question, whether, when a man knows that some of his intimate friends are invited to the house of another friend with whom they are all equally intimate, he may join them without an invitation." Johnson: "No, sir, he is not to go when he is not invited. They may be invited on purpose to abuse him"—smiling.
Houses are built to live in more than to look on; therefore let use be preferred before uniformity, except where both may be had.
It's an unhappy household where all the smiles are dispensed in society and all the frowns at home.
He has no religion who has no humanity.
Our humanity were a poor thing, but for the Divinity that stirs within us.
With the humble there is perpetual peace.
When you see an ear of corn holding itself very high (or a human head) you may be sure there is nothing in it. The full ear is the lowliest; the full head the most humble.
Humility is the root, mother, nurse, foundation, and bond of all virtue.
Hunger is the mother of impatience and anger.
They must hunger in frost who spring-time have lost.
The full stomach cannot comprehend the hungry one.
Wait is a hard word to the hungry.
Between husband and wife there should be no question as to material interests. All things should be in common between them without any distinction or means of distinguishing.
A Scottish youth learned, with a pious mother, to sing the old psalms that were then as household words to them in the kirk (church) and by the fireside. When he had grown up he wandered away from his native country, was taken captive by the Turks, and made a slave in one of the Barbary States. But he never forgot the songs of Zion, although he sang them in a strange land and to heathen ears.
One night he was solacing himself in this manner when the attention of some sailors on board of a British man-of-war was directed to the familiar tune of "Old Hundred" as it came floating over the moonlit waves.
At once they surmised the truth that one of their countrymen was languishing away his life as a captive. Quickly arming themselves, they manned a boat and lost no time in effecting his release. What joy to him after eighteen long years passed in slavery! Is it strange that he ever afterwards cherished the glorious tune of "Old Hundred?"
The I is worthy of aversion when it is principally confined to the person who uses it.
Ideas are like beards; men do not have them until they grow up.
A young man idle, an old man needy.
Labor is the divine law of our existence; repose is desertion and suicide.
If any man wish to escape idleness let him fall in love.
Better lose your labor than your time in idleness.
Idleness must thank itself if it go barefoot.
Never remain ignorant for the want of asking questions.
Ignorance is often a voluntary misfortune.
Man's ills are in the main of his own seeking.
Those who imitate us we like much better than those who endeavor to equal us. Imitation is a sign of esteem, competition of envy.
Impertinence.—That man is guilty of impertinence who considers not the circumstances of time, or engrosses the conversation, or makes himself the subject of his discourse, or pays no regard to the company he is in.
Airs of importance are often the credentials of insignificance.
Live within your income. Always have something saved at the end of the year. Let your imports be more than your exports, and you'll never go far wrong.
All men are not susceptible to improvement.
It is better to have nothing to do than to be doing nothing.
Men of all ages have the same inclinations, over which reason exercises no control. Thus, wherever men are found, there are the same follies.
What madness to carry all one's income on one's back.
Our incomes are like our shoes; if too small, they gall and pinch us; but if too large, they cause us to stumble and to trip.
Fickleness.—Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro, as this Mr. —— ——?
Mankind is made up of inconsistencies.
If any man can do without the world, it is certain the world can do quite as well without him.
Living to-day on tomorrow's salary is a sure sign of financial indigestion.
Seek not every quality in one individual.
That is the best gown that goes most up and down the house.
The smiles of infants are said to be the first-fruits of human reason.
A hound, who in the days of his youth and strength had never yielded to any beast of the forest, encountered in his old age a boar in the chase. He seized him boldly by the ear, but could not retain his hold because of the decay of his teeth, so that the boar escaped. His master, quickly coming up, fiercely abused the dog. The hound looked up and said: "It was not my fault, master; my spirit was as good as ever, but I could not help mine infirmities. I rather deserve to be praised for what I have been, than to be blamed for what I am."
"On a cold winter evening," said Dr. T. L. Cuyler recently, "I made my first call on a rich merchant in New York. As I left the door and the piercing gale swept in, I said:
"What an awful night for the poor?
"He said come back for a moment; and in a very few minutes brought me a roll of bank bills, and said:
"Please hand these for me to the poorest people you know.
"After a few days I wrote him the grateful thanks of the poor whom his bounty had relieved, and added:
"How is it that a man so kind to his fellow creatures has always been so unkind to his Saviour as to refuse him his heart?
"That sentence touched him to the core.
"He sent for me to come and talk to him, and speedily gave himself to Christ. He has been a most useful Christian ever since. But he told me I was the first person who had talked to him about his soul in twenty years. One hour of work did more for that man than the pulpit effort of a life-time."
It is reported that a young man being examined preparatory to joining the church was asked—"Under whose preaching?" The prompt reply—"I was converted under my mother's practising." Did any preacher ever utter so powerful a sermon as the young man embodied in those few words?
It is a common thing for men to hate the authors of their preferment, as the witnesses of their mean original.
At the first entrance into thy estate keep a low sail; thou mayest rise with honor; thou canst not decline without shame; he that begins as his father ended, will be apt to end as his father began.
One is keen to suspect a quarter from which one has once received a hurt. "A burnt child dreads the fire."
The noblest remedy for injuries is oblivion.
A man hurts himself by injuring me: what, then shall I therefore hurt myself by injuring him?
Ink—Described:—The colored slave that waits upon thought; a drop may make a million think.
The innocent are gay.
There is no real courage in innocence.
What narrow innocence it is for one to be good only according to the law.
It is only the vulgar who are always fancying themselves insulted. If a man treads on another's toe in good society, do you think it is taken as an insult?
I once met a man who had forgiven an injury. I hope some day to meet the man who has forgiven an insult.
The borough of Hull, in the reign of Charles II, chose Andrew Marvell, a young gentleman of little or no fortune, and maintained him in London for the service of the public. With a view to bribe him, his old school-fellow, the Lord Treasurer Danby, went to him in his garret. At parting, the Lord Treasurer slipped into his hands an order upon the treasury for £1000, and then went into his chariot. Marvell looking at the paper, called after the treasurer—"My lord, I request another moment." They went up again to the garret, and the servant boy was called—"What had I for dinner yesterday?" "Don't you remember, sir, you had the little shoulder of mutton that you ordered me to bring from a woman in the market?" "Very right. What have I for dinner today?" "Don't you know, sir, that you made me lay up the blade-bone to broil?" "'Tis so; very right. Go away." "My lord, do you hear that? Andrew Marvell's dinner is provided; there's your piece of paper, I want it not. I knew the sort of kindness you intended. I live here to serve my constituents. The ministry may seek men for their purpose; I am not one."
Integrity is to be preferred to eloquence.
The integrity of men is to be measured by their conduct, not by their professions.
One of dull intellect cannot come in, nor go away, nor sit, nor rise, nor stand, like a man of sense.
God has placed no limits to the exercise of the intellect he has given us, on this side of the grave.