Stories about General Warren,. Brown Rebecca Warren
duty faithfully. The bent which she gives to the dawning character is seldom effaced through the whole existence of an immortal being. I hope, therefore, my children, more especially you, my daughter, will constantly remember, that unless you attend most carefully to the formation of your own hearts and minds, you will never be competent to form those of others, and that you are in some measure responsible for the good or evil of the characters it may be your lot to form. I trust, too, you will feel that much of the good you may yourselves possess is owing to your parents, who have, as far as they could, guarded you from evil, and led you in the right path, and to whom, therefore, you owe obedience and gratitude, and an earnest endeavor to show, by your conduct, that their labor has not been in vain. Most faithfully did the mother of Joseph discharge the double duty which had now devolved on her. Her four boys, under her watchful eye, grew up to be good, wise, and, most of them, celebrated men, and richly repaid all her care of them. But not only as a mother was she estimated, for she practised the virtue of benevolence, in the fullest sense of the word. To her neighbors she was kind and hospitable; to the poor her house was always open. Indeed, it might with truth be said of her, in the words of that beautiful poet, Goldsmith, whose works I trust you will soon learn to read and admire:
"Her house was known to all the vagrant train,
She chid their wanderings, but reliev'd their pain.
The long remember'd beggar was her guest,
And oft the traveller at her board found rest.
Gentle their merits or their faults to scan,
Her pity gave e'er charity began."
In her old age, when her own children had left her fire-side to take their part in the active scenes of life, it was one of her dearest pleasures to gather a group of their children, and the children of others around her. She did all in her power to promote their enjoyment, and her benevolent smile was always ready to enliven and encourage them. On Thanksgiving day she depended on having all her children and grand-children with her; and until she was eighty years of age, she herself made the pies with which her table was loaded! Not satisfied with feasting them to their hearts' content, while they were with her, she always had some nice great pies for them to take home with them.
Mary. What a fine old lady she must have been! How I should have admired to have gone to see her!
Mrs. M. She was indeed a most excellent woman. As far as one imperfect being can judge of another, she appeared to deserve to be classed among those whom Christ, in his sermon on the Mount, pronounced blessed. She was often called to mourn, and she was comforted by his word; she was "meek" and "humble," for, much as she did for others, she thought she did nothing worthy to be mentioned. Truly did she appear to hunger and thirst after righteousness. That she was "merciful," I have already told you. She was "pure in heart," as an infant. As a "peacemaker," she was more especially known. If there was any dispute among her friends, relations, neighbors, or acquaintances, to her they carried their troubles and their complaints. Even their evil feelings towards others were not concealed from her. She soothed their troubles, pacified their complaints, and their evil feelings and jealousies she changed into kindness and good will. If she was reviled she reviled not again, and though her good was often evil spoken of, it did not make her weary in well doing. Those who knew her trust she is now reaping the reward promised to those that "faint not," and are not weary in well doing.
Mary. I think she must now be happy, dear mother, or no one can expect to be.
Mrs. M. We have every reason to believe that she is, my dear girl.
Now let us go back to Joseph. He was her eldest son. He was educated at the public school in Roxbury. Like Washington, he displayed in childhood the qualities which afterwards rendered him so celebrated as a man. He was manly, generous, fearless and independent. If one boy oppressed another, he would always take the part of the weakest, and generally succeeded in making the little tyrant ashamed of himself.
William. Did not all the boys like him, mamma? I am sure I should have liked him.
Mrs. M. Yes, my dear, all the good boys liked him, and, what was still better, the masters all liked him. You may be pretty sure that a boy or girl either is deserving of love, if their instructers are attached to them. His mind was so well regulated, that, although he would not submit to tyranny, he was respectful and obedient to those who had a right to govern him. And this was his rule of conduct through his after life. At the age of fourteen, Joseph entered college. Here the same good feelings which had marked his character at school, continued to govern him. His manners were gentle, and he had the reputation of possessing fine talents, great perseverance, and an entire fearlessness of danger, when accomplishing that which he thought to be right.
One day some of his classmates had determined to do something of which they knew he would not approve. They met together to arrange their plans for its execution. They did not wish Warren to be with them, for they knew his powers of persuasion were so great that he would, if present, prevail on the greatest part of them not to enter into these plans. They therefore fastened the door of the room, in which they were, so that he could not get it open. But he did not give up the matter so easily. They were assembled in an upper room; and finding he could not get in at the door, Warren went down into the college yard. As he looked up he saw their window was open. Now how do you think he managed?
William. I am sure I cannot tell, mamma. Did he climb up to it?
Mrs. M. No, he could not do that, it was very high, and there was not any thing to climb upon. He could see nothing near the window but an old spout, which went from the ground to the eaves, or top, of the house; this spout was so rotten it would hardly bear a touch, much less the whole weight of any one.
Mary. He could not get in on that then. Do make haste, dear mother, and tell us if he did get in, and how he contrived to.
Mrs. M. I will, my child, as soon as I can. He again went up stairs to the scuttle door, which was on the top of the house; out of this he got, slid down the slanting roof to the edge of the house, just where the old spout came up to it; he then seized hold of this spout, swung himself upon it, and slid down as far as the window of the room, where his classmates were, then in he sprang among them, to their great surprise, as you may well suppose. The instant he let go the decayed thing on which he had descended, it broke to pieces and fell to the ground. His companions heard the crash, rushed to the window, and while they were uttering exclamations of astonishment at the risk he had run, and congratulating him on his narrow escape, he very coolly replied, "it has stayed up just long enough to serve my purpose," he then directly entered upon the business which had brought them together.
William. What a brave fellow he was. How glad I am it did not break while he was on it!
Mary. I hardly breathed for fear it would. I hope he succeeded in preventing those young men from doing what they had intended.
Mrs. M. I hope so too, and I think it probable he did. After such a proof of his determination and perseverance, they must have felt it was useless to oppose him.
A gentleman who saw him at the moment he was coming from the top of the house, on the spout, related the fact, in the college yard, fifty years afterwards, pointing, at the same time, to the very spot on which he saw him. It had made so deep an impression on him, that, even at that distance of time, he could not speak of it without emotion.
William. Oh how I wish I could see the place. Do you think, mamma, any body could show it to me now?
Mrs. M. I do not know, my dear, if any one is now living who knows exactly the place. I mean to inquire when I have an opportunity, for I should like to see it myself.
Mary. So do mamma.
Mrs. M. At the end of his collegiate education, Joseph quitted college with the esteem and love of all who had known him there. He then determined to study medicine. I suppose you know he was a physician before he became a general.
William. No, indeed, I did not: if I have heard it, I did not think enough about it to remember it. Was he the celebrated Dr. Warren of whom I have so often heard?
Mrs. M. Do you mean the Dr. Warren now living?
William. Oh no, mamma, I know it was not him, though I have heard a great deal about