|
AT a certain average age, begins the yearning for city life of the boy reared amid rural scenes. Then comes the "winter of discontent," which too often ends in his utter undoing. The abandonment of agricultural pursuits by the country youth, and his entrance upon a city career, are likely to furnish a cause of trouble both in city and country. Agriculture now, more than ever, needs the service of all those bred to the farm and thoroughly familiar with its daily routine. The summer of 1903 brought clamorous demands from numberless farms in the grain-growing states for help in caring for the waiting crops, and multitudes of farmers were only too willing to accept inferior workers at from $2 to $3 per day to meet the requirements of harvesting. On the other hand, hosts of farm lads, dissatisfied with the simple and unvarying course of farm life which, from distorted views, had become monotonous and irksome to them, plunged into the uncertainties of the already thronged cities, only to discover that their expectations were illusive and vain. So crowded have become the avenues of business endeavor by seekers after clerical employment that commercial enterprises in the important centers of trade can arbitrarily fix the wages paid to applicants for work. The conditions are such that great commercial houses while ever competing for patronage, never compete for help, as necessity compelled in case of the farmers before mentioned. The natural increase in the city population from births, the constant accretions from country sources, the large extent to which women and girls have been substituted for men and boys in stores, offices, factories and shops, and the endless output of graduates from the business colleges, have barred the way to "positions" against thousands of disappointed people. Unless the boy from the country is the possessor of rare qualities, city life is likely to prove to him a delusion and a snare. Only the fittest, in such a change, can survive the strain. As a rule, the youth bred to city life is much more likely to succeed than his country competitor for a job, because he is imbued with the push of the bustling mart, and is thoroughly familiar with the surroundings. He is, moreover, less liable to succumb to the temptations that hedge about him because he is safeguarded by the attractions and restraints of home. Let the country boy, except in rare instances, stay at home, at least until he has saved enough of his sure earnings to begin mature life in an independent way. Let the country boy remember that the country is better far than the great metropolis, for mental and moral development, and for the establishment of strong individual character. The country, and the small town (not the city) give to the nation its towering celebrities. What great scholars, orators, theologians, scientists, lawyers, or statesmen have sprung from the environments of a great municipality? Let the wise country boy be mindful of these things, and stay where he is until he has laid the foundation of a successful career. VALUE AND CHARM OF A GOOD LETTER Letter writing will soon be numbered among the lost arts. It has come about through the increase in postal facilities that we have to write so many letters that we do not care to spend overmuch time on any one, or any series. The modern methods of travel which seem to have annihilated distance, have given to correspondence less importance in our eyes than it formerly had. People no longer write letters; they scribble them. But what others do in this connection is, or should be, nothing to you. It is your creed that all things should be done well. In letter-writing, particularly, you will take great pride and pleasure. Your letters stand for you. You do not enter a friend's house, utter half a dozen poorly expressed commonplaces, and then depart. Nor should your letters show as little care. Representing you, they should show you at your best. The envoys of your love, your friendship and your interests, you should see to it that nothing about them is disappointing. Every one of them has need to be a worthy messenger, now to console, now to amuse, now merely to pass the time of day. There is no present so sweet to receive as a beautiful letter. In your letters trivialities may have ample room. To those you love, they are very pleasing, running over with such little details as correspond with chattering,—little details,—the unimportant things that separation makes important. Nothing more is required than that your heart should be in the matter. "The scholar sits down to write," says Emerson, "and all his years of meditation do not furnish him with one good thought or happy expression; but it is necessary to write a letter to a friend—and forthwith, troops of gentle thoughts invest themselves on every hand with chosen words." An affectionate letter! What a glow it leaves in the heart! It is a disappointment when the postman passes the door. But to take pleasure in receiving letters is not consistent with a neglect in writing them. To be sure, they take up much time. But it seems very certain to you that the time is not wasted. It is so much pleasure that you can give away at the cost of a little red stamp. You make your letters members of your life. What you do, what you are, what you think,—that you set down, and all else that comes into your head. Your letters are very intimate. A good letter is the mirror of the mind. It is something that flashes. It is an epigram. Herein lies not the least benefit of letter-writing—that many things must be set forth in so small a space. Letters are never so charming as when they are written spontaneously—when they arrive unexpectedly. Letter writing is hard work, and the mood for hard work is illusive. Practice writing; make your letters characteristic of yourself always. COURTESIES OF LIFE |