ity, constantly employing himself
in political bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by
that neglect, _He pays, indeed_, said I, _too much for his whistle_.

"If I see one fond of appearance, or fine clothes, fine houses, fine
furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he
contracts debts, and ends his career in a prison, _Alas!_ say I, _he
has paid dear, very dear for his whistle_.

"When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl married to an ill-natured
brute of a husband, _What a pity_, say I, _that she should pay so much
for a whistle!_

"In short, I conceive that great part of the miseries of mankind are
brought upon them by the false estimates they have made of the value
of things, and by their _giving too much for their whistle_."

Thus Benjamin made a good use of one of the foolish acts of his
boyhood, which tells well for both his head and heart. Many boys are
far less wise, and do the same foolish thing over and over again. They
never learn wisdom from the past. Poor, simple, pitiable class of
boys!

Let the reader prove himself another Benjamin Franklin in this
respect. Remember that there is more than one way _to pay too dear for
a whistle_, and he is wisest who tries to discover them all.

When a boy equivocates, or deceives, to conceal some act of
disobedience from his parents or teachers, and thereby lays the
foundations for habitual untruthfulness, he pays too dear for the
whistle; and he will learn the truth of it when he becomes older, and
cannot command the confidence of his friends and neighbours, but is
branded by them as an unreliable, dishonest man.

In like manner, the boy who thinks it is manly to smoke, and fill the
wine-cup, will find that he has a very expensive whistle, when he
becomes "hail fellow well met" among a miserable class of young men,
and is despised and discarded by the virtuous and good.

So, in general, the young person who is fascinated by worldly
pleasure, and supposes that wealth and honour are real apples of gold
to the possessor, thinking less of goodness and a life of piety than
he does of mere show and worldliness, will find that he has been
playing with a costly whistle, when age and his last sickness comes,
and death confronts him with its stern realities.

CHAPTER II.

AT SCHOOL.

"Well, Benjamin," said his father, laying down his violin, upon which
he was wont to play in the evening, for his own and children's
amus