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ing. Mr. Brown then informed him of the story that he heard related when he was a boy in his native village, that ten cents a day saved, with the interest added, in forty years would amount to the sum of ten thousand dollars, and he thought to himself, “I am not yet twenty years old, and can I save ten cents a day, and if I should live till I get sixty years old, will it amount to ten thousand dollars? I use tobacco, and often I smoke two or more cigars a day, and that will cost me ten cents; and from that time until now I have not used tobacco nor drank a glass of liquor only for medicine. I commenced then saving ten cents a day, and with the proceeds of that money I

purchased this farm before I arrived at the age of forty years, and now own all the land within sight through this valley.” Mr. C. contrasted his situation with Mr. Brown's, for he was worth nothing. “I have used no tobacco," thought he to himself, “but then I have drank my glass three or four times a day for nearly half a century; that, with the interest added, would now have placed me beyond the reach of want, and if I had been industrious and economical as Mr. Brown, and saved my ten cents a day, I might now be the owner of a farm valuable as his." As he sat absorbed in deep thought he was much affected, and then he related to Mr. Brown the history of his life, how he commenced tippling before he was out of his teens, the money and time he had wasted, the bad habits he had formed in youth still clung to him in after life so strong that he could not eradicate them, and now he was incapacitated for labor, and nothing now remained for him in the world but poverty and remorse. By

this time Mr. Brown's family had gathered round him, and they heard Mr., C. relate his story, and saw the tears roll down his cheeks. His person was dirty and meanly clad, and his baggage consisted of a bundle of old clothes, which he carried across his shoulder, resting on a stick. His poverty-stricken appearance, his haggard countenance, his long snowy locks and faltering step, caused Mr. Brown and his family to be deeply moved. Mr. C. was traveling through the country on foot, begging for subsistence. He had commenced life under more favorable circumstances than Mr. Brown, for he was a good mechanic, earning a dollar and a quarter a day, but forming bad habits in early life and increasing as he advanced in years, brought him to poverty and shame. Ceaseless dissipation requires large resources, and the young man that steps aside from the path of virtue and sobriety and is gradually drawn into the haunts of vice, in nine cases out of ten is irrevocably lost. If he gets in the gutter before he is twenty-one, seldom does he come out of the mire and corruption, for habits formed in our youth generally go with us through life. How necessary then it is for us to form good habits in youth. Oh, how my heart has yearned for that young man when I have seen him gradually yielding to temptation. Step by step has he been drawn into the vortex until he drags out a miserable existence and a terrible death. Happy the youth that have resisted those evils, and become useful members of society, a blessing to the country and a benefit to the world.

Mr. Brown kindly invited Mr. C. into his house, and himself and family endeavored to make him comforta

ble, but Mr. C. was suffering too much mental agony to be happy. The ten cents a day he could not dismiss from his mind, and to undertake to save it now was too late. He was present when the story was told in the village store as related by Mr. Brown, and recollected it well.

Mr. C. tаrried all night with Mr. Brown, and he gave him a comfortable lodging, for Mr. C. had often been obliged to pass the night in barns and out-houses. The following morning Mr. Brown gave Mr. C. a decent suit of clothes and replenished his purse, and when he left Mr. Brown he could not refrain from weeping. But Mr. C.'s time here on earth was short, for he died the following winter a pauper.

The history of Mr. C. taught Mr. Brown's children a salutary lesson, to form habits of sobriety in youthful days, and save their ten cénts a day. Mr. Brown, too, had early taught his children by his success in life, that industry and economy is the way to wealth, and he often related the story of ten cents a day saved to them, which if he had not heard when he was young he probably now would have been in limited circumstances, if not poor. How many of the rising generation are there at the present day that uselessly spend their ten cents a day, thought Mr. Brown one evening, as he was sitting in his room with his family around him, and how many, thought he, had been wrecked in the slippery paths of life, from the age of fifteen to twenty-five, and he exhorted his children to remember the story of ten cents a day, and to abstain from intemperance, impurity of language, and falsehood. In so doing they would save their reputation, preserve their

credit, and by usefulness prevent the tear of anguish from flowing down the cheek of a loving father and mother, and the richest of heaven's gifts would descend and bless them.

Mr. Brown's advice to his children did not pass by unheeded, for he lived to see them all married and settled around him on farms which he gave them, prosperous and happy, occupying high positions in society. All of this, reader, was caused by hearing the story of Ten Cents a Day.


It was the month of March, which in our latitude is one of the most disagreeable months in the year. A mixture of rain, snow and hail, had fallen during the day, and the evening in Farmer Brewer's house was as dreary as the weather was without, for he was in rather an unpleasant mood. He had purchased his farm before the outbreak of the great rebellion, for a moderate price, as he thought, and had made great exertions to liquidate the debt, but the expense of living and the increase of taxes during the four long years of the war was bearing so heavily upon him, that now he could hardly collect money enough to pay his interest, which would soon be due. His two sons, Elihu and Leonard, had enlisted in the war, and he was left alone to work his farm and get along the best he could. Where Farmer Brewer lived, laborers were very scarce and commanded exorbitant prices, which he was unable to pay. It was true that the products of his farm sold for large prices, but the scarcity of labor obliged him to cultivate but little, and oftentimes he had to trudge along alone.

It was the early part of March, and the snow yet covered the earth, for the winter had been one of uninterrupted sleighing, and the rays of the sun had not

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