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an econonsist as possible, yet I find the pocket money you allowed me to take from Mr. Hovey, monthly, is not sufficient to support my necessary expenses, although it was so at first. New-York is such a place, that unless one maintains something of a character, they are sure to be treated with contempt, and pointed at as objects of ridicule. I assure you, sir, that I abhor every sort of extravagance, as much as you can desire, and the small matter which I ask as an addition to your former allow. ance, is only to promote my own interest, and which, I am sure, you have as much at heart as any parent possibly can. My master will satisfy you, that my conduct has been consistent with the strictest rules of morality. I submit it to your judgment what you think proper to order me.. I did not choose to mention my waat of money to Mr. Hovey, and for that reason, have not taken any thing more than you ordered; I hope you will not be offended with what I have written; as I shall always consider myself happy in performing my duty, and acquiring the favor of my honored parents. I am, honored sir, your affectionate son.
The Father's Answer. MY DEAR CHILD,
My reason for not sending to you sooner was, that I had been on a journey to your uncle at Philadelphia, where I was detained longer than I expected, and consequently, did not see your letter till last night. I have considered your request, and am convinced that it is altogether reasonable : you are greatly mistaken if you think that I wanted to confine you to the small matter paid by Mr. Hovey-no; it was indeed inadvertency; but my constant residence in the country renders me little acquainted with the customs of New-York. I do not desire to confine you to any particular sum; you are now arrived at an age when it be. comes absolutely necessary for you to be well acquainted with the valus of money, your profession likewise requires it; and it is well known that prudence and sobriety in youth, naturally lead to regularity of conduct in more advanced life. Virtue insures respect, and, as I well know that all manner of precepts are useless where the inclinations are' vicious, I have left the affair mentioned in your letter entirely to your own discretion; and as the enclosed order is unlimited, I hope prudence will direct you how to proceed.
Your affectionate father.
Father, asking his consent to marry.
withoul your conseni ; out I lose that upon the strictest inquiry you will find her such a person as you will approre. I, on every occasion, endeavor to act with the greatest prudence, consistent with the rules you were pleased to prescribe for my conduct. The parents are to pay me one thousand dollars on the day of marriage, if the event should happen to take place; and as they have no other children, the whole of their property becomes ours at their death. In whatever light you are pleas ed to consider this, I sha'l abide by your direction, and your answer is the mean time is anxiously expected by
Your dutiful son. LETTER 26.
The Father's Answer.. MY DEAR SON,
I received your letter, and my reason for not sending you an answer sooner, is, that it being an affair of great importance, was willing to proceed therein with the utmost caution. I wrote to Mr. Johnson, ing attorney in New York, desiring him to inquirc concerning the family you desire to be allied with ; and I am glad to hear that his account does not differ from your own. I hope you do not think that I would desire Lo see you one moment unhappy. Your wish to enter the marriage state is natural and meets my approbation, and I am glad to hear that the person on whom you have placed your affection is so worthy. When you have fixed the wedding-day I will come to New-York to be present at the ceremony, and spend a few days with my old friends. I hope you will continue to attend to your business with the same diligence you have hitherto done ; and if you should live to an old age, you will then be able to retire frona business with honor both to yourself and family.
I am your affectionate father.
LETTER 27. From a young Woman just gone to service in Nero-York, to her
Mother in the country. DEAR MOTHER,
It is now a month that I have been at Mr. Eastman's, and I thank God that I like my place so well. Mr. and Mrs. Eastman are both worthy people and greatly respected by all their neighbors. · At my first coining liere I thought every thing strange, and wondered to see such multitudes of people in the streets, but what I suffer most from is, the remembrance of your's and my father's kindness ; but I begin to get more reconciled to my state, as I know you were not able to support me at home. I return you a thousand thanks for the kind advice you wero 80 kind to give me at parting, and I shall endeavor to practice it as long as I live; let me hear from
you as often as you have an opportunity; so with my duty to you and my father, and love to all friends,
I remain ever, your most dutiful daughter.
The Mother's Answcr. MY DEAR CHILD,
I am glad to hear that you have got into so good a family. You
know that ne never shou.d have parted from you had it not been for your good. If you continue virtuous and obliging, all the family will love and esteem you. Keep yourself employed as much as you can, and be always ready to assist your fellow-servants. Never speak ill of any body, but when you hear a bad story, try to soften it as much as you can; do not repeat it again, but let it slip out of your mind as soon as possible. I am in great hopes that all the family are kind to you, from the good character I have heard of them. If you have any time to spare from your business I hope you will spend some part of it in read. ing your Bible, and the Whnle Duty of Man.
pray for and there is nothing I desire more than my dear child's happiness. Remember, (hat the more faithful you are in the discharge of your duty as a servant, the better you will prosper
live to have a family of your own. Your father desires his blessing, and your brothers and sis terz their lind love to you. Heaven bless you, my dear child, and continue you t, be a comfort to us all, and particularly to
Your affectionate mother.
LETTER 29. Mom an Incle to his Nephew, an apprentice, on his keeping bad
company, bad hours, &c. DEAR NEPIEW,
I am very much concerned to hear, that you are of late fallen into bad company; that you keep bad hours, and give great uneasiness to your master, and break the rules of his family. That when he expostulates with you on this account, you retur pert and bold answers; and instead of promising or endeavoring to amend, repeat the offence; and have entered into clubs and societies of young fellows, who set at naught all good example, and make such persons who would do their duty, the subject of their ridicule, as persons of narrow minds, and who want the courage to do as they do.
Let me on this occasion expostulate with you, and set before you the evil of the way you are in. In the first place : what can you mean by breaking the rules of a family you had bound yourself by contract to observe? Do you think it honest, to break through engagements into which you have solemnly entered? Seven years, several of which are elapsed, is not so long a ierm but that you may see it terminate before you are over fit to be trusted with your own conduct. Twenty-one or iwenty-two years of age is full early for a young man to be his own mas. tor, whatever you may think ; and you may surely stay till then at least, to choose your own hours, and your own company; and I fear as you go on, if you do not mend your ways, your discretion will not then do credit to your choice. Remember you have no time you can call your own, during the continuance of your contract; and must you abuse your master in a double sense : rob him of his time, especially if any of it be hours of business : rob him of his rest; break the peace of his family, and give a bad example to others ? And all for what? Why to riot in the company of a set of persons, who contemn, as they teach you to do, all order and discipline ; who, in all likelihood, will lead you into gaming, drinking, swearing, and even more dangerous vices, to the unhing ing of your mind from your business, w.jich must be your future support
Consider, I exhort you, in time, to what these courscs may lead Consider the affliction you will give to all your friends, wy your continuance in them. Lay together the substance of the conversation that pass25 in a whole evening, with your frothy companions, after you have come from them, and reflect what solid truth, what useful lessons, worthy of being inculcated in your future life, that whole evening has afforded you, and consider whether it is worth breaking through all rule and order for ? Whether your present conduct is such as you would allow in a servant of your own? Whether you are so capable to pur your business with that ardour and delight next morning, as if you not drank or kept bad hours over night ? If not, whether your master has not a double loss and damage from your misspent evenings? Wheth. er the taking of small liberties, as you may think them, leads you not on to greater ? For let me tell you, that you will not find it in your power to stop when you will : and then, whether any restraint at all will not in time be irksome to you?
I have gone through the like servitude with pleasure and credit. I found myself my own master full soon for my discretion : what yon think of yourself I know not ; but I wish you may do as well for your own interest and reputation too, as I have done for mine : and I assure
I should not have thought it either creditable or honest to do as you do. I could have stood the laugh of an hundred such vain companions as you choose, for being too narrow minded to break through all moral obligations to my master, in order to show the bravery of a bad heart, and what an abandoned mind dared to perpetrate. A bad beginning seldom makes a good ending, and if you were assured that you could stop when you come for yourself, which is very improbible, how will you answer it to equity and a good conscience, that you will not do so for your master? There is, let me tell you, more true bravery of mind in forbearing to do an injury, than in giving offence. Ycu are now at an age when you should study to improve, not divert your faculties. You should now lay in a fund of knowledge, that in time, when ripened by experience, may make you a worthy member of the commonwealth Do you think you have nothing to learn, either as to your business, or as to the forming of your mind? Would it not be much better to choose the silent, the sober conversation of hooks, than of such companions as never read or think? Let me entreut you then, my dear kinsman, for your family's sake, for your own sake, before it be too late, to reflect as you ought upon the course you have entered into. By applying your. self to books, instead of such vain company, you will be qualified in time for the best of company, and be respected by all ranks of men. This will keep you out of unnecessary expenses, will employ all your leisure time, will exclude a world of temptations, and finally set you above that wretched company which now you seem so rauch delighted with.
And one thing let me recommend to you, that you keep a list of the young men of your standing within the compass of your knowledge, and for the next seven years observe what fate will attend them : see if those who follow not the course you have so lately entered into, will not appear ab a very different light from those who do : and for the industry and prosperity of the one, and the decay or failure of the other, (if their vain ways do not blast them before or as soon as they begin the world) you'll find abundant reason every day to justify the truth of the observa. tions I have thrown together. As nothing but my affection for you could possibly influence me to these expostulations, I hope for a proper effect from them, if you would be tho glit well of by, or expect any favor froin,
Your loving uncle. P.S. Your master will, at my request, send me word of the success of my remonsti ance.
LETTER 30. An Uncle in answer to a Nephew's complaining of hardships in his
apprenticeship. DEAR NEPHEW,
I am sorry, you should have any misunderstanding with your master I have a good opinion of him, and am unwilling to entertain a bad one of you. It is so much a master's interest to use his apprentices well, that I am disposed to think that when they are badly used it is oftener the effect of provocation than choice. Wherefore, before I give myself the trouble of interposing in your behalf, I desire that you will inquire of yourself, whether you have not, by some miscondact or other, provoked that alteration in your master's behaviour of which you so much complain. If, after having diligently complied with this request, you assure me that you are not sensible of having given cause of disgust on your side, I will readily use my endeavors to reconcile you to your master, procure you another. But if you find yourself blameable, it will be better for you to remove, by your own amendment, the occasion of your master's displeasure, than to have me or any other friend, offer to plead your excuse, where you know it would be unjust to defend you. If this should be your case, all your friends together could proinise your better behaviour, indeed ; but as the performance must even then be your own, it will add much more to your character to pass through your whole term, without any interposition between you. Weigh what I have here said; and remember that your future welfare depends greatly on your present behaviour.
I am your loving kinsman.
You cannot imagine how sorry I was to hear that your master and you do not agree so well as I could wish. I was always afraid you would expect the same indulgence when you got abroad into the world, as you experienced when at home. You know, that in many instances, I have madeavored to make seeming hardships as easy to you as I could ; but of this makes you more difficult to be satisfied, it would be a great trouble
Your uncle tells me, and I am afraid with too much truth, that the indulgences you have received from me, have made your present sit. uation more disagreeable than it would otherwise have been. Whatever I have done for you, was always intended for your good, and nothing rould so deeply afflict me, as io ser my tenderness have a mischievous