g up to him I said--'Well, my boy, you
seem to enjoy the fun very much; but why don't you lay down your load of
sticks?'... 'I wan't thinking about the burden--I wan't thinking about
the sticks, sir.' 'And may I ask what you were thinking about?' 'Oh, I
was just thinking about what the good missionary said the other day. You
know, sir, I don't go to church, for I have no clothes; but one of the
missionaries comes every week to our stair, and holds a meeting. He was
preaching to us last week, and among other things he said--"Although
there are rich folks and poor folks in this world, yet we are all
brothers." Now, sir, just look at these lads--every one of them has
fine jackets, fine caps, with warm shoes and stockings, but I have
none;--So I was just thinking if those were my brothers, it doesn't look
like it, sir--it doesn't look like it. See, sir, they are all flying
kites, while I am flying in rags--they are running about at kick-ball
and cricket; but I must climb the long, long stairs, with a heavy load,
and an empty stomach, whilst my back is like to break. It doesn't look
like it, sir--it doesn't look like it.'" Or, take the following
instance, which I extract from the Records of one of the Benevolent
Societies of our own city: "Can you read or write? said the visitor to a
poor boy. Marty hung his head. I repeated the question two or three
times before he answered, and the tears dropped on his hands, as he
said, despairingly, and I thought defiantly--'No, sir, I can't read nor
write neither. God don't want me to read, sir. Indeed, so it looks
likely. Didn't He take away my father since before I can remember him?
And haven't I been working all the time to fetch in something to eat,
and for the fire, and for clothes? I went out to pick coal when I could
take a basket in my arms--and I have had no chance for school since.'"
Now this is fallacious and dangerous reasoning, my friends;
nevertheless, it _is_ reasoning, and shows that the mind of the poor boy
is not inactive as to the problems of life. And the intellect which is
so acute in theory will soon drive to practice. Stimulated by that
selfish instinct which, as I have shown, will under pressure absorb
every other consideration, he speedily commences the career of _crime_.
And have you ever looked into this matter of crime? Or do you know it
only as a monstrous fact in the social mechanism, and in the records of
human nature? If so, it would be well for us to consi