An Open Letter to the Boys.
The evening's mail has brought me the following epistle from my nephew, Johnny Briggs, who had lately confided to me his avowed intention of going to sea, and to whom I gave my written views on the subject:— “My Dear unkle, since receiving yore kind advices of 20 instant i Have decydid Not to go to see particularly as the fokes say dont let Me here you Talk about Being a saylor. i think A wild Lyfe Ashore on the planes or Go west and Grow up With the country as mr greely sed would sute Me better Don't you. i Have bot A revolver for A dolar. the Man said it would kill any One at twenty paces. Which would Be bad for A injun. please tell Me what you Think and beleve me or not. Yore nefew, Fancying that there may be more than one Johnny Briggs among the families represented on the subscription list of the Christian Union, I have made my answer to Johnny's letter an "open one." It reads as follows:— “Yours received—contents noted,” as business people say. I am glad to know your decision in regard to sailor life. But are n't you going a little too far in the other direction? Inland, I mean. I am afraid that—thanks to your late course of reading—you have formed a mistaken idea as to the charms of a wild life on the plains. Now, after reading your letter and thinking it all over, my dear nephew, it occurs to me that if I were Johnny Briggs I would take the advice of an old fogy, and try a few years of tame life before I ventured on the wild. Stay at home, and grow up with the country. By the time you have arrived at the full stature of a man, you will think very differently. And then, too, you will have a chance to learn to use better grammar and spell better than you do now, which will enable you to write capital letters and put them in their proper places too. The boy heroes do not all run away in search of their fortunes. The boys may do this thing, but the heroes stay at home. There is a hundred times more heroism in struggling with temptation than in struggling with a bear or a panther. It is a thousand times more heroic to fight one's faults than to fight with an Indian. And then again the true hero is sure of victory if he fights long enough, while the other kind—well, they often get the worst of it, even when they've done their level best. But, dear me, how to make you see all this—that's what bothers me. I know that it is all true, because once, a century or two ago, like yourself I thought that staying at home, obeying mother and father, getting an education and fitting to be a useful member of society, was rather dull and commonplace. And I was idiot enough to leave it all, that I might go roaming over the world in search of adventure. Heaven forbid that you, my dear Johnny, should have to learn the truth of my advice as I learned it—by hard, bitter experience. It occurs to me that if I were beginning life as you are, my dear Johnny, and some one who had been over the ground should tell me which was the right and which the wrong road, I'd believe 'em. This seems to be all that I have to offer on the subject without seeming to be preaching to you, and that I never do; so I will draw my letter to a close with my kindest regard for your welfare.
—Christian Union.