From a Father to his Son, beginning the World. MY DEAREST SON: HAVERHILL, May 6th, Separated as you will shortly be from your childhood's home-for many years, perhaps—and not having your poor old father to consult and obtain advice from, when any difficulties may arise, you will naturally be inclined to appeal to those among your acquaintances whom you may consider from intimate association as entitled to the name of friends. Now this is a matter in which you must observe the very greatest caution and discrimination, a mistake made in selecting a friend and acting up to his advice, is a fatal one, and no one can for a moment form an idea of the consequences which may arise from it. In the first place, do not seek the friendship of the "fast young man," whose sole thought is to gratify himself in the enjoyment of this world's pleasures, without any regard to the misery or disgrace his conduct may be entailing on a happy, innocent family. Make friends of those who, by their actions, have raised themselves in the estimation of their superiors, and are regarded with eyes of jealous admiration by their equals. Remember the old proverb, “Tell who are your friends, and I will teli you what you are." I hope, dear boy, your own good sense will lead you to avoid bad companions. Should you ever (which I trust may never be the case) be tempted to do anything contrary to the laws of honor or of duty, question yourself thus: "Should I do this in my father's house? should I act thus in my mother's presence?" The answer will be the best talisman to keep you from falling in your combat with the world. We have great hopes in you, my dear son. Never omit to write to your dear mother and myself, when you possibly can; and with our best and fondest love, Believe me, ever your affectionate father, JOHN HILT. From a Son, who has Misconducted himself towards his Employer, to his DEAR FATHER: Father. NORRISTOWN, November 18th, I am in such distress I scarcely know how to commence my letter. Without the least reason, without the least provocation, I left my employer at the most busy season, just for a temporary, trifling amusement. He-the best of employers-for the moment was forgotten by me; self predominated. I ran away from my place, and here I find myself disgraced and miserable, and grieve to think how indescribably shocked you will be when Mr. Evans communicates with you relative to my absence. However, dear father, there is one consolation: I cannot be accused of dishonesty; so I hope my character is not irretrievably ruined. Will you see my employer, and tell him how deeply I regret my fault, and entreat him tc forgive it, and allow me to return to my place? It shall hereafter be my constant study to perform my duty in the most upright manner, and with the most assiduous attention. Let me hear also, dear father, sending me Mr. Evans' reply, that you also forgive, Your erring but repentant son, MY DEAR SON: JOHN THOMPSON. The Father's Answer. HARRISBURG, PA., November 21st, Words cannot express my grief at the receipt of your letter. How can you so soon have forgotten all the home lessons of duty you have learned? What society can you have mingled in to have caused you to be guilty of such folly? I went to Philadelphia to-day, saw your employer, and read him your letter; and he agrees with me that from the manner you have acted in immediately informing me of your position, it is probable you may, in an untoward moment, have been induced to commit an act for which vou are honestly sorry. It is your first offence, and he bids me say he rejoices that you are sen sible of your grievous error, and he will allow you to return, and never mention what has >ccurred to you. Never, dear son, forget yourself again, be grateful to your employer, who is charity itself, and Believe me, Your affectionate father, ROBERT THOMPSON To a Child who has been Guilty of Telling a Falsehood. MY DEAR SAMUEL: BOSTON, May 14th, I was much grieved to find after you had left us in the early part of the week, that the replie ,ou gave me relative to your acquaintance with the Ls were utterly at variance with the truth. Little did I think you would ever deceive us, when such confidence had been alway placed in you. Why did you try to deceive me by a falsehood? Let me entreat you never again to deviate from the truth; should you do so, you will soon outain a character as an "ntrustworthy person, and no one will believe you even when you speak the truth. Every one will shun you, as they will always suspect that you are trying to deceive them; even when you are acting rightly, they will look upon you with suspicion. Have you forgotten that truth is the point of honor i. a gentleman, and that no one can tell a falsehood and retair the character of one? I cannot tell you the shame I felt when I discovered your untruth; I felt degraded by it. Strive to retrieve your character in the future, by perfect truthfulness and a high sense of what honor requires from you. Till I believe that you feel the enormity of your fault I cannot sign myself other than ALFRED HUGHES. A Letter from a Father to a Son at School, on the Necessity of Attention to his Studies. MY DEAR Boy: ALTON, ILLS., January 28th, Now you have returned to school, it is my duty to point out to you how absolutely necessary it is for your future success that you should persevere in your studies, more especially if you wish to leave college (for which you are destined) with honor. Do not be carried away with he natural love of ease and pleasure, but accustom yourself at once to really hard work. It you cannot reconcile yourself to do so in your youth, you will be unable to do so as you grow older, and you will become incapable of achieving anything great. Application may be difficult at first, but when once you have accustomed yourself to it, you will find study pleasant, easy and agreeable, and in years to come you will be well repaid for the toil and trouble you now undergo. What can be pleasanter than to find yourself at the head of your school, leaving all competitors behind? what more gratifying than to give pleasure to your father and mother, and to obtain the admiration and approval of your teachers? That, dear boy, will be your reward if you study constantly and patiently; but if you neglect the opportunities offered to you now, your future life will be nothing but disquietude, and you will grow up ignorant, and be despised. Pay attention to my advice, and work in the morning of your days. With your mother's best love and mine. Believe me, your ever affectionate father, RICHARD PETERSON. From a Father to a Son, relative to his Expenditure. MY DEAR SON: HACKNEY, March 5th, Your last letter gave us pleasure not unmixed with pain: pleasure to learn that you were wen. and held in esteem by your superiors, and on friendly terms with those of your own standing; and pain from the request which it contained. Your mother, like myself, feels grieved that you should ask for an additional allowance. You should consider that you have brothers and sisters for whom I have also to make a provision, and that if the allowance I now give you (which is considered large) be increased, it must deprive us all of some of our necessary comforts. You must reflect on this, dear boy, and then I am well assured that you will not urge your request. I will, however (for this once alone, understand me), make you a present of one hundred dollars. Your own good sense, I am certain, will show you the necessity of retrenchment, so I shall not allude to the matter further. The presents you sent us each by last mail are much appreciated and treasured by us. We are going to move from this neighborhood, as we find it too expensive; when next you write, therefore, address to Durnford Street. All your pets are well, and we guard them jealously for your sake. Trusting you will remain some time at Cannes, as it agrees with you so well, and that we may constantly hear from you, Believe me, with our united, kindest love, Your affectionate father, H. V. ROSSITER. A Father, who has lately Lost his Wife, to his Daughter at School. MY DARLING CHILD: WOBURN, July 20th. I was very pleased and comforted by your last affectionate letter. Bitterly, indeed, do I miss you! Had I given way to my own selfish wishes, I think I should not have allowed you to return to school. Your dear aunt, however, who is now looking carefully after my domestic affairs, showed me so plainly that by keeping you at home I should be depriving yoa of the advantages of education, that I sacrificed my feelings for your sake. On reflection, also, I hopeċ that you would find some little consolation and comfort from association with young la lies of your own age, for here all is cheerless and dreary. The void caused by your dear mother's death can never be refilled; my home is truly desolate. It would have been wrong to keep you at nome to share my grief, and thus uselessly add bitterness to your younger years. Do no gneve too long and bitterly, my child, for your dearly loved mother; imitate her in every action of her life; and when time has slightly moderated your poor father's sorrow, and you are 14 charge of his home and your own, things may be brighter and more cheerful again. Pray write to me soon, and Believe me, Your ever affectionate father, THOMAS DALE. A Parent to his Daughter at Service. MEDFORD, March 1st, MY DEAR DAUGHTER: When you left home for service, you were so young and inexperienced that we were most anxious as to your welfare. We are truly thankful to find from your letter, received a few days ago, that you are in a place that is likely to prove comfortable. I need not give you much advice as to obedience, for you have always been, both to your mother and myself, a mos obedient and dutiful child. Your mistress is very kind in showing you how to perform you duties. Be attentive, and grateful to her for such kindness. Do not make acquaintances too hurriedly; never stay out later than the hour appointed fo you to be at home; and on no account whatever admit any one into the house, without firs obtaining leave from your mistress. Never miss an opportunity of attending Divine worship. Write to us as often as you can; and with the love of your mother and myself, Believe me, your affectionate father, DEAR RICHARD: Letter from an Absent Father to his Son. JOSEPH HODGES. PARIS, October 5th, 1802. Here I am, after having lingered six or seven days very unnecessarily in London. I don't know that even the few days that I can spend here will not be enough-sickness, long and glocmy-convalescence, disturbed by various paroxysms-relapse confirmed-the last a spec tacle soon seen and painfully dwelt upon. I shall stay here yet a few days. There are some to whom I have introductions that I have not seen. I don't suppose I shall get myself presented to the consul. Not having been privately baptized at St. James's would be a difficulty; to get over it a favor; and then the trouble f getting one's self costumed for the show; and then the small value of being driven, like the beasts of the field before Adam when he named them; -I think I sha'n't mind it. The character of this place is wonderfully different from that of London. I think I can say, without affectation, that I miss the frivolous elegance of the old imes before the Revolution, and that in the place of it I see a squalid beard-grown, vulgar vivacity; but still it is vivacity, infinitely preferable to the frozen and awkward sulk that I have left. Here they certainly wish to be happy, and think that by being merry they are so. I dined yesterday with Mr. Fox, and went in the evening to Tivoli, a great, planted, illuminated garden, where all the bourgeoisie of Paris, and some of a better description, went to see a balloon go up. The aeronaut was to have ascended with a smart girl, his bonne amie; for some reason that I know not, some one went up in her place; she was extremely mortified; the balloon rose, diminished, vanished into night; no one could guess what might be its fate, and the poor dear one danced the whole evening to shake off her melancholy. I am glad I am come here. I entertained many ideas of it, which I have entirely given up, or very much indeed altered. Never was there a scene that could furnish more to the weeping or the grinning philosopher; they might well agree that human affairs were a sad joke. I see it everywhere, and in everything. The wheel has run a complete round; only changed some spokes and a few “felloes,” very little for the better, but the axle certainly has not rusted-nor do I see any likelihood of its rusting. At present all is quiet except the tongue, thanks to those invaluable protectors of peace-the army!! At Tivoli last night we had at least a hundred soldiers, with fixed bayonets. The consul now lives at St. Cloud, in a magnificence, solitary. but still fitting his marvellous fortune. He is very rarely seen-he travels by night—is indefatigable-has no favorite, etc. As to the little affairs at the Priory, I can scarcely condescend, after a walk in the Louvre, amid the spirit of those arts which were inspired by freedom, and have been transmitted to power, to think of so poor a subject. I hope to get a letter from you in London, at Osborne's, Adelphi. Many of the Irish are here-not of consequence to be in danger: I have merely heard of them. Yesterday I met Arthur O'Connor in the street, with Lord and Lady Oxford. Her ladyship very kindly pressed me to dine; but I was engaged. I had bargained for a cabriolet, to go and see my poor gossip. Set out at two: at the end of five miles found I was totally misdirected-returned to St. Deny's got a miserable nner, and was fleeced as usual. I had some vengeance of the rascal, however, by deploring the misery of a country where a stranger had nothing for his dinner but a bill. You feel a mistake in chronology in the two "yesterdays;" but, in fact, part of this was written yesterday, and the latter part now. I need not Invitation to a Picnic-A Lady to a Gentleman. DEAR MR. PAXTON: COLEBROOK, August 20th. We have a few friends from New York staying with us now, and as the country is looking very beautiful and the weather tempting, we propose to have a Picnic at Orange, on the 24th inst. We have arranged with Mrs. Mason, and Major and Mrs. Caldwell, as to the means of conveyance; so if you are disengaged and will join us, call here at about 11.30. We have a vacant seat for you in our carriage. Believe me, Dear Mr. Paxton, LAURA REDDING. Invitation to a Friend at the Seaside to Come and Spend Some Time in the Country. THE ELMS, August 6th, MY DEAR ELEANOR : I should be very glad if you could come and spend a month with us: the country is really so lovely during this season, and the evenings so deliciously cool that such an admirer of nature would, I think, enjoy the change from your wild rocky scenery to our quiet, peaceful valley, and from the roar of the waves to the music of murmuring brooks. I expect my brother and sister to spend the autumn with me, and if you can make up your mind to leave home for a short time, they, as well as I, will be delighted with your company. George, who is as merry and mischievous as ever, will, I know, do his utmost to add to your enjoyment and make your visit a pleasant one. With kindest regards to all at home, Believe me, Your sincere friend, ANNIE LEIGHTON. Accepting. Gloucester, Mass., August 7th.. MY DEAR MRS. LEIGHTON : I shall be delighted to accept your kind invitation. It will be a great treat to pay an inland visit again, and I shall always enjoy staying with you very much. I shall also be very glad to see my old friends again, and to have a laugh with George. Please excuse a short note, as I am going out with a friend and she is waiting for me, but I would not delay a minute in acknowledging your kind invitation. With love from all of us to you and yours, Thank you very much for so kindly inviting me to stay with you, but, alas! I cannot have the great pleasure of going to you. My dearest mother is very ill, and I cannot leave her; you see I have a double cause for regret, my disappointment having such a sad cause. I wish indeed that I could see your lovely place, and have a laugh with George. Your disappointed, but affectionate, ELEANOR. |