THE SURE REWARD OF HONOR.
THE boys attending the school at Austin used to see Arthur Watson driving a cow to pasture. In the evening he drove her back again, they did not know where, and this was continued for several weeks. The boys at the school were nearly all the sons of wealthy parents, and some of them were mean enough to look with disdain on a classmate who had to drive a cow. With admirable good-nature Watson stood all their attempts to annoy him. 'I suppose, Watson,' said Jackson, one day, 'I suppose your father intends to make a milkman of you.' 'O, nothing! Only don't leave much water in the cans after you rinse them—that's all.' The boys laughed, and Watson, not in the least mortified, replied:— 'Never fear. If ever I am a milkman, I'll give you good measure and good milk.' The day after this conversation there was a public examination, at which many of the people from the neighboring towns were present, and prizes were awarded by the principal. Both Watson and Jackson received a creditable number, for in respect to scholarship they were about equal. After the ceremony of distribution the principal remarked that there was one prize, consisting of a gold medal, which was rarely awarded, not so much on account of its great cost as because the instances were rare which rendered its bestowal proper. It was the prize of heroism. The last medal was awarded about three years before to a boy in the first class who rescued a poor girl from drowning. The principal then said that, with the permission of the company, he would relate a short anecdote. 'Not long since, some boys were flying a kite in the street, just as a poor lad on horseback rode by on his way to the mill. The horse took fright and threw the boy, injuring him so badly that he was carried home and confined some weeks to his bed. Of the boys who unintentionally caused the disaster, none followed to learn the fate of the wounded lad. There was one boy, however, who witnessed the accident from a distance, who not only went to make inquiries, but stayed to render service. This boy soon learned that the wounded boy was the grandson of a poor widow, whose sole support consisted in selling the milk of a cow, of which she was the owner. She was old and lame, and her grandson, on whom she depended to drive her cow to the pasture, was now helpless with his bruises. 'Never mind, good woman,' said the boy; 'I will drive the cow.' 'But his kindness did not stop there. Money was wanted to get articles from the apothecary. 'I have money that my mother sent me to buy a pair of boots with,' said he, 'but I can do without them for a while.' 'O, no!' said the woman, 'I can't consent to that; but here is a pair of heavy boots that I bought for Thomas, who can't wear them. If you would only buy these we should get on nicely.' 'The boy bought the boots, clumsy as they were, and has worn them up to this time. 'When it was discovered by the other boys at school that our student was in the habit of driving a cow, he was assailed every day with laughter and ridicule. His cowhide boots in particular were made a matter of mirth. But he kept on cheerfully and bravely, day after day, never shunning observation, driving the widow's cow and wearing the thick boots. He never explained why he drove the cow, for he was not inclined to make a boast of his charitable motives. It was by mere accident that his kindness and self-denial were discovered by his teachers. 'And now, ladies and gentlemen, I ask you, Was there not true heroism in this boy's conduct? 'Nay, Master Watson, do not get out of sight behind the blackboard. You are not afraid of ridicule, you must not be afraid of praise.' As Watson, with blushing cheeks, came forward, a round of applause spoke the general approbation, and the medal was presented to him amid the cheers of the audience.—Selected.