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THE BOOK OF VIRTUES WILLIAM BENNETT PDF

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The Book of Virtues for Young People by William J. Bennett, March , Silver Burdett Pr edition, in English. Read The Book of Virtues by William J. Bennett for free with a 30 day free trial. Read unlimited* books and audiobooks on the web, iPad, iPhone and Android. William Bennett and Michael Hague, the team that brought us the national bestseller The Children's Book of Virtues, have once again collaborated to create The.


The Book Of Virtues William Bennett Pdf

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The Book of Virtues [William J. Bennett] on cittadelmonte.info *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. Responsibility. Courage. Compassion. Honesty. Friendship. The Book of Virtues by William J. Bennett - Responsibility. Courage. Compassion . Honesty. Friendship. Persistence. Faith. Everyone recognizes these traits as. --The Book of Virtues, by William J. Bennett. No person can be more rightly credited with making morality and personal responsibility an integral part of the.

Everyone recognizes these traits as essentials of good character. In order for our children to develop such traits, we have to offer them examples of good and bad, right and wrong. And the best places to find them are in great works of literature and exemplary stories from history. William J. Bennett has collected hundreds of stories in The Book of Virtues, an instructive and inspiring anthology that will help children understand and develop character -- and help adults teach them.

Give me a spoon! But now he stopped and listened to his brother. He thought it would be fun to try to talk like John; so he began,. He was trying to say please ; but how could he? So he tried again, and asked for the butter.

So it went on all day, and everyone wondered what was the matter with those two boys. When night came, they were both so tired, and Dick was so cross, that their mother sent them to bed very early. He had had so much fresh air the day before that now he was feeling quite strong and happy. And the very next moment, he had another airing; for Dick said,. Father, will you cut my orange, please? It sounded just as well as when John said it—John was saying only one please this morning.

And from that time on, little Dick was just as polite as his brother. Aristotle would have loved this poem and the one that follows it. The first illustrates excess, the second deficiency. The trick to finding correct behavior is to strike the right balance. We meet the child who, like most, is sometimes well behaved and sometimes not. And we face a hard, unavoidable fact of life: This poem is sometimes attributed to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Sometimes fortune offers us close calls we should take as warnings.

Self-discipline is learned in the face of adversity, as this old English fairy tale reminds us. In a tiny house in the North Countrie, far away from any town or village, there lived not long ago, a poor widow all alone with her little son, a six-year-old boy.

And many a tale the widow could tell of the good folk calling to each other in the oak trees, and the twinkling lights hopping on to the very windowsill, on dark nights; but in spite of the loneliness, she lived on from year to year in the little house, perhaps because she was never asked to pay any rent for it.

But she did not care to sit up late, when the fire burned low, and no one knew what might be about. So, when they had had their supper she would make up a good fire and go off to bed, so that if anything terrible did happen, she could always hide her head under the bedclothes. This, however, was far too early to please her little son; so when she called him to bed, he would go on playing beside the fire, as if he did not hear her. He had always been bad to do with since the day he was born, and his mother did not often care to cross him.

Indeed, the more she tried to make him obey her, the less heed he paid to anything she said, so it usually ended by his taking his own way. But one night, just at the fore-end of winter, the widow could not make up her mind to go off to bed, and leave him playing by the fireside. For the wind was tugging at the door, and rattling the windowpanes, and well she knew that on such a night, fairies and such like were bound to be out and about, and bent on mischief. So she tried to coax the boy into going at once to bed:.

The more she begged and scolded, the more he shook his head; and when at last she lost patience and cried that the fairies would surely come and fetch him away, he only laughed and said he wished they would, for he would like one to play with. At that his mother burst into tears, and went off to bed in despair, certain that after such words something dreadful would happen, while her naughty little son sat on his stool by the fire, not at all put out by her crying.

But he had not long been sitting there alone, when he heard a fluttering sound near him in the chimney, and presently down by his side dropped the tiniest wee girl you could think of. She was not a span high, and had hair like spun silver, eyes as, green as grass, and cheeks red as June roses. My own self, she said in a shrill but sweet little voice, and she looked at him too.

And what do they call ye? She certainly showed him some fine games. She made animals out of the ashes that looked and moved like life, and trees with green leaves waving over tiny houses, with men and women an inch high in them, who, when she breathed on them, fell to walking and talking quite properly.

Thereupon she set up such a squeal, that the boy dropped the stick, and clapped his hands to his ears. But it grew to so shrill a screech, that it was like all the wind in the world, whistling through one tiny keyhole!

There was a sound in the chimney again, but this time the little boy did not wait to see what it was, but bolted off to bed, where he hid under the blankets and listened in fear and trembling to what went on. Who did it? This time it sounded nearer, and the boy, peeping from under the clothes, could see a white face looking out from the chimney opening! The little boy lay awake a long time, listening, in case the fairy mother should come back after all.

And next evening after supper, his mother was surprised to find that he was willing to go to bed whenever she liked.

But he was thinking just then that, when next a fairy came to play with him, he might not get off quite so easily as he had done this time. In which we discover the kind of gruesome end that comes to children who dart away from their mothers into streets, run away from their fathers at crowded ball parks, dash screaming down grocery store aisles, and who in general cannot bring themselves to hold on to the hand they are told to hold.

Thomas Jefferson gave us simple but effective advice about controlling our temper: Genghis Khan c. He led his army into China and Persia, and he conquered many lands. In every country, men told about his daring deeds, and they said that since Alexander the Great there had been no king like him. Many of his friends were with him. They rode out gayly, carrying their bows and arrows. Behind them came the servants with the hounds. It was a merry hunting party.

The woods rang with their shouts and laughter. They expected to carry much game home in the evening. At a word from their masters they would fly high up into the air, and look around for prey. If they chanced to see a deer or a rabbit, they would swoop down upon it swift as any arrow. All day long Genghis Khan and his huntsmen rode through the woods. But they did not find as much game as they expected.

Toward evening they started for home. The king had often ridden through the woods, and he knew all the paths. So while the rest of the party took the nearest way, he went by a longer road through a valley between two mountains. The day had been warm, and the king was very thirsty.

His pet hawk had left his wrist and flown away. It would be sure to find its way home. The king rode slowly along. He had once seen a spring of clear water near this pathway.

If he could only find it now! But the hot days of summer had dried up all the mountain brooks. At last, to his joy, he saw some water trickling down over the edge of a rock.

He knew that there was a spring farther up. In the wet season, a swift stream of water always poured down here; but now it came only one drop at a time. The king leaped from his horse. He took a little silver cup from his hunting bag. He held it so as to catch the slowly falling drops. It took a long time to fill the cup; and the king was so thirsty that he could hardly wait.

At last it was nearly full. He put the cup to his lips, and was about to drink. All at once there was a whirring sound in the air, and the cup was knocked from his hands. The water was all spilled upon the ground.

This time he did not wait so long. When the cup was half full, he lifted it toward his mouth. But before it had touched his lips, the hawk swooped down again, and knocked it from his hands.

And now the king began to grow angry. He tried again, and for the third time the hawk kept him from drinking. How do you dare to act so? If I had you in my hands, I would wring your neck! He had hardly spoken before the hawk swooped down and knocked the cup from his hand.

But the king was looking for this. With a quick sweep of the sword he struck the bird as it passed. But when he looked for his cup, he found that it had fallen between two rocks, where he could not reach it. With that he began to climb the steep bank to the place from which the water trickled.

It was hard work, and the higher he climbed, the thirstier he became. At last he reached the place. There indeed was a pool of water; but what was that lying in the pool, and almost filling it?

It was a huge, dead snake of the most poisonous kind. The king stopped. He forgot his thirst. He thought only of the poor dead bird lying on the ground below him. The hawk saved my life! He was my best friend, and I have killed him. He clambered down the bank. He took the bird up gently, and laid it in his hunting bag. Then he mounted his horse and rode swiftly home. He said to himself,. Why should we bother to practice cleanliness?

Aside from some very good practical considerations, Francis Bacon reminded us why: For cleanness of body was ever esteemed to proceed from a due reverence to God, to society, and to ourselves. One good, practical reason for controlling our cravings is that if we grasp for too much, we may end up getting nothing at all. I would like some of these nuts, he thought. So he reached into the jar and grabbed as many as he could hold. But when he tried to pull his hand out, he found the neck of the jar was too small.

His hand was held fast, but he did not want to drop any of the nuts. How easy that was, said the boy as he left the table. I might have thought of that myself. A man and his wife had the good fortune to possess a goose that laid a golden egg every day.

Lucky though they were, they soon began to think they were not getting rich fast enough, and, imagining the bird must be made of gold inside, they decided to kill it in order to secure the whole store of precious metal at once. But when they cut it open they found it was just like any other goose. Thus, they neither got rich all at once, as they had hoped, nor enjoyed any longer the daily addition to their wealth.

A runaway appetite is just about the surest ticket to never getting anywhere. The English philosopher John Locke put it this way: He that has not a mastery over his inclinations; he that knows not how to resist the importunity of present pleasure or pain, for the sake of what reason tells him is fit to be done, wants the true principle of virtue and industry, and is in danger of never being good for anything.

Meet Mr. Vinegar, who is in such danger. A long time ago there lived a poor man whose real name has been forgotten. He was little and old, and his face was wrinkled; and that is why his friends called him Mr. His wife was also little and old, and they lived in a little old cottage at the back of a little old field.

One day when Mrs. Vinegar was sweeping, she swept so hard that the little old door of the cottage fell down. She was frightened. She ran out into the field and cried, John! The house is falling down. We shall have no shelter over our heads. Put on your bonnet and we will go out and seek our fortune. They walked and walked all day. At night they came to a dark forest where there were many tall trees.

So he climbed a tree and laid the door across some branches. Then Mrs. Vinegar climbed the tree, and the two laid themselves down on the door. It is better to have the house under us than over us, said Mr. But Mrs. Vinegar was fast asleep, and did not hear him. Soon it was pitch dark, and Mr. Vinegar also fell asleep. At midnight he was awakened by hearing a noise below him.

Here are ten gold pieces for you, Jack, he heard someone say. And here are ten pieces for you, Bill. Vinegar looked down. He saw three men sitting on the ground. A lighted lantern was near them. As he did this he kicked the door from its resting place. The door fell crashing to the ground, and Mrs. Vinegar fell with it. The robbers were so badly scared that they took to their heels and ran helter-skelter into the dark woods. Ah, no! But who would have thought that the door would tumble down in the night?

And here is a beautiful lantern, all lit and burning, to show us where we are. Vinegar scrambled to the ground. He picked up the lantern to look at it. But what were those shining things that he saw lying all around?

And she jumped up and down for joy. Now, John, said Mrs. You must go to the town and buy a cow. I will milk her and churn butter, and we shall never.

This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue? Upload Sign In Join. Save For Later. Create a List. The Book of Virtues by William J. Summary Responsibility.

Read on the Scribd mobile app Download the free Scribd mobile app to read anytime, anywhere. Your feathers are fairer than the dove's. If so, you must be the queen of birds. Down fell the piece of meat. The fox seized upon it and ran away. In this famous tale, he proves to be a man who knows how to control his pride. It is a good lesson for all who aspire to high office. Long ago, England was ruled by a king named Canute. Like many leaders and men of power, Canute was surrounded by people who were always praising him.

Every time he walked into a room, the flattery began. One day he was walking by the seashore, and his officers and courtiers were with him, praising him as usual. Canute decided to teach them a lesson. Do you think it will stop if I give the command? Sea," cried Canute, "I command you to come no further! Waves, stop your rolling! Surf, stop your pounding! Do not dare touch my feet! I have ordered you to retreat before me, and now you must obey! Go back! The tide came in, just as it always did.

The water rose higher and higher. It came up around the king's chair, and wet not only his feet, but also his robe. His officers stood about him, alarmed, and wondering whether he was not mad. Perhaps you have learned something today. Perhaps now you will remember there is only one King who is all-powerful, and it is he who rules the sea, and holds the ocean in the hollow of his hand. I suggest you reserve your praises for him.

And some say Canute took off his crown soon afterward, and never wore it again. The colossal stone head of a statue of Rameses lies on the ground at his mortuary temple in western Thebes, and the ancient Greek historian Diodorus Siculus described a funeral temple bearing an inscription much like the lines in Shelley's poem. Remembering Ozymandias is a great way to control our vanity, especially as we climb the ladder of success. It makes a striking contrast with the story of King Canute. I met a traveler from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away. Phaeton Adapted from Thomas Bulfinch The feeling of youth, Joseph Conrad said, is the feeling of being able to "last forever, outlast the sea, the earth, and all men. Here is one of Ovid's grandest stories. It tells of the rashness of youth and reminds us of the need for the governing prudence of parents.

Phaeton was the son of Phoebus Apollo and the nymph Clymene. One day a schoolfellow laughed at the idea of his being the offspring of a god, and Phaeton went in rage and shame to his mother.

The land of the Sun lies next to ours. The palace of the Sun stood reared on lofty columns, glittering with gold and precious stones, while polished ivory formed the ceilings, and silver the doors.

Upon the walls Vulcan had represented earth, sea, and skies with their inhabitants. In the sea were the nymphs, some sporting in the waves, some riding on the backs of fishes, while others sat upon the rocks and dried their sea-green hair.

The earth had its towns and forests and rivers and rustic divinities. Over all was carved the likeness of the glorious heaven, and on the silver doors were the twelve signs of the zodiac, six on each side. Clymene's son climbed the steep ascent and entered the halls of his father.

He approached the chamber of the Sun, but stopped at a distance, for the light was more than he could bear. Phoebus, arrayed in a purple vesture, sat on a throne, which glittered as with diamonds. On his right hand and his left stood the Day, the Month, and the Year, and, at regular intervals, the Hours.

Spring stood with her head crowned with flowers. Summer stood with garment cast aside and a garland formed of spears of ripened grain. And there too were Autumn, her feet stained with grape juice, and icy Winter, his hair stiffened with hoarfrost. Surrounded by these attendants, the Sun, with the eye that sees everything, beheld the youth dazzled with the novelty and splendor of the scene.

To put an end to your doubts, ask what you will, and the gift shall be yours. I call to witness the dreadful river Styx, which we gods swear by in our most solemn engagements. Now he realized his dream could come true. You ask for-something not suited to your youth and strength, my son. Your lot is mortal, and you ask what is beyond a mortal's power. In your ignorance, you aspire to do what even the other gods themselves may not do.

None but myself may drive the flaming car of Day. Not even Jupiter, whose terrible right arm hurls the thunderbolts, would try it. The middle part of the journey takes me high up in the heavens, and I can scarcely look down without alarm and behold the earth and sea stretched beneath me. The last part of the road descends rapidly, and requires the most careful driving.

Tethys, the Ocean's wife, who is waiting to receive me, often trembles for me lest I should fall headlong. Add to all this, the heaven is all the time turning round and carrying the stars with it. I have to be perpetually on my guard lest that movement, which sweeps everything else along, should also hurry me away.

What would you do? Could you keep your course while the sphere was revolving under you? Perhaps you think there are forests and cities, the abodes of gods, and palaces and temples along the way.

On the contrary, the road runs through the midst of frightening monsters. You pass by the horns of the Bull, in front of the Archer, and near the Lion's jaws, and where the Scorpion stretches its arms in one direction and the Crab in another. Nor will you find it easy to guide those horses, who snort fire from their mouths and nostrils.

I can scarcely govern them myself when they resist the reins. Recall your request while yet you may. Do you want proof that you are sprung from my blood?

I give you proof in my fears for you. Look at my face -- I would that you could look into my heart, and there you would see a father's cares. Ask and you shall have it! But I beg you not to ask this one thing. It is destruction, not honor, you seek. You shall have it if you persist. I swore the oath, and it must be kept. But I beg you to choose more wisely. So, having resisted as long as he could, Phoebus at last led the way to where the lofty chariot stood.

Its wheels were made of gold, its spokes of silver. Along the yoke every kind of jewel reflected the brightness of the sun. While the boy gazed in admiration, the early Dawn threw open the purple doors of the east, and showed the pathway strewn with roses.

Phoebus, when he saw the Earth beginning to glow, and the Moon preparing to retire, ordered the Hours to harness the horses. They obeyed, and led the steeds from the lofty stalls, well fed with rich ambrosia. Then the Sun rubbed his son's face with a magic lotion which made him able to endure the brightness of the flame.

He placed the crown of rays on his head and sighed. Spare the whip and hold the reins tight. The steeds need no urging, but you must labor to hold them back. Do not take the straight road through the five circles of Heaven, but turn off to the left. Avoid the northern and southern zones, but keep within the limit of the middle one.

You will see the marks of the wheels, and they will guide you. The sky and the earth both need their due share of heat, so do not go too high, or you will burn the heavenly dwellings, nor too low, or you will set the earth on fire.

The Book of Virtues

The middle course is the safest and best. Night is passing out of the western gates, and we can delay no longer. Take the reins. Or better yet, take my counsel and let me bring light to the world while you stay here and watch in safety.

The horses filled the air with their fiery snortings and stamped the ground impatiently. The barriers were let down, and suddenly the boundless plain of the universe lay open before them.

They darted forward and sliced through the clouds, into the winds from the east. It wasn't long before the steeds sensed that the load they drew was lighter than usual. As a ship without ballast careens and rolls off course on the sea, so the chariot was dashed about as if empty. The horses rushed headlong and left the traveled road. Phaeton began to panic. He had no idea which way to turn the reins, and even if he knew, he had not the strength.

Then, for the first time, the Big Bear and the Little Bear were scorched with heat, and would have plunged into the water if possible.

The Serpent, which lies coiled around the pole, torpid and harmless in the chill of the heavens, grew hot and writhed in angry fury. When the unhappy Phaeton looked down upon the earth, now spreading in the vast expanse beneath him, he grew pale, and his knees shook with terror.

In spite of the glare all around him, the sight of his eyes grew dim. He wished he had never touched his father's horses. He was borne along like a vessel driven before a storm, when the pilot can do no more than pray. Much of the heavenly road was behind him, but much more still lay ahead. He found himself stunned and dazed, and did not know whether to hold the reins or drop them.

He forgot the names of the horses. He was horrified at the sight of the monstrous forms scattered across the heaven. The Scorpion, for instance, reached forward with its two great claws, while its poisonous stinger stretched behind. Phaeton's courage failed, and the reins fell from his hands.

The horses, when they felt the reins loose on their backs, dashed headlong into the unknown regions of the sky. They raced among the stars, hurling the chariot over pathless places, now up in the high heaven, now down almost to earth.

The Moon saw with astonishment her brother's chariot running beneath her own. The clouds began to smoke, and the mountain tops caught fire. Fields grew parched with heat, plants withered, and harvests went up in flames. Cities perished, with their walls and towers, and whole nations turned to ashes. Phaeton beheld the world on fire, and felt the intolerable heat. The air was like the blast of a furnace, full of soot and sparks.

The chariot glowed white-hot and veered one way, then another. Forests turned to deserts, rivers ran dry, and the earth cracked open. The sea shrank and threatened to become a dry plain. Three times Neptune tried to raise his head above the surface, and three times he was driven back by the fiery heat.

Then Earth, amid the smoking waters, screening her face with her hand, looked up to heaven, and in a trembling voice called on Jupiter. Let me at least fall by your hand. Is this the reward of my fertility? Is it for this that I have given fodder for cattle, and fruits for men, and incense for your altars? And what has my brother Ocean done to deserve such a fate? And look at your own skies. The very poles are smoking, and if they topple, your palace will fall.

If sea, earth, and heaven perish, we fall into ancient Chaos. Save what remains from the devouring flame. Take thought, and deliver us from this awful moment! But Jupiter heard her, and saw that all things would perish if he did not quickly help. He climbed the highest tower of heaven, where often he had spread clouds over the world and hurled his mighty thunder.

He brandished a lightning bolt in his hand, and flung it at the charioteer. At once the car exploded. The mad horses broke the reins, the wheels shattered, and the wreckage scattered across the stars.

The Book of Virtues for Young People

And Phaeton, his hair on fire, fell like a shooting star. He was dead long before he left the sky. A river god received him and cooled his burning frame. The notebook apparently dates from about , when George was fourteen years old and attending school in Fredericksburg, Virginia. Inside, in George's own handwriting, we find the foundation of a solid character education for an eighteenth-century youth: Most of the rules are still delightfully applicable as a modern code of personal conduct.

On the assumption that what was good enough for the first president of the United States is good enough for the rest of us, here are fifty-four of George Washington's "Rules of Civility. Every action in company ought to be with some sign of respect to those present.

In the presence of others sing not to yourself with a humming voice, nor drum with your fingers or feet. Speak not when others speak, sit not when others stand, and walk not when others stop. Turn not your back to others, especially in speaking; jog not the table or desk on which another reads or writes; lean not on anyone. Be no flatterer, neither play with anyone that delights not to be played with.

Read no letters, books, or papers in company; but when there is a necessity for doing it, you must ask leave. Come not near the books or writings of anyone so as to read them unasked; also look not nigh when another is writing a letter. Let your countenance be pleasant, but in serious matters somewhat grave.

Show not yourself glad at the misfortune of another, though he were your enemy. They that are in dignity or office have in all places precedency, but whilst they are young, they ought to respect those that are their equals in birth or other qualities, though they have no public charge.

It is good manners to prefer them to whom we speak before ourselves, especially if they be above us, with whom in no sort we ought to begin. Let your discourse with men of business be short and comprehensive. In visiting the sick do not presently play the physician if you be not knowing therein.

In writing or speaking give to every person his due title according to his degree and the custom of the place.

Strive not with your superiors in argument, but always submit your judgment to others with modesty. Undertake not to teach your equal in the art he himself professes; it savors of arrogancy. When a man does all he can, though it succeeds not well, blame not him that did it. Being to advise or reprehend anyone, consider whether it ought to be in public or in private, presently or at some other time, also in what terms to do it; and in reproving show no signs of choler, but do it with sweetness and mildness.

Mock not nor jest at anything of importance; break no jests that are sharp or biting; and if you deliver anything witty or pleasant, abstain from laughing thereat yourself. Wherein you reprove another be unblamable yourself, for example is more prevalent than precept.

Use no reproachful language against anyone, neither curses nor revilings. Be not hasty to believe flying reports to the disparagement of anyone. In your apparel be modest, and endeavor to accommodate nature rather than procure admiration. Keep to the fashion of your equals, such as are civil and orderly with respect to time and place.

Play not the peacock, looking everywhere about you to see if you be well decked, if your shoes fit well, if your stockings set neatly and clothes handsomely. Associate yourself with men of good quality if you esteem your own reputation, for it is better to be alone than in bad company. Let your conversation be without malice or envy, for it is a sign of tractable and commendable nature; and in all causes of passion admit reason to govern.

Be not immodest in urging your friend to discover a secret.

Utter not base and frivolous things amongst grown and learned men, nor very difficult questions or subjects amongst the ignorant, nor things hard to be believed. Speak not of doleful things in time of mirth nor at the table; speak not of melancholy things, as death and wounds; and if others mention them, change, if you can, the discourse. Tell not your dreams but to your intimate friends.

Break not a jest when none take pleasure in mirth. Laugh not aloud, nor at all without occasion. Deride no man's misfortunes, though there seem to be some cause. Speak not injurious words, neither in jest or earnest.

Scoff at none, although they give occasion. Be not forward, but friendly and courteous, the first to salute, hear and answer, and be not pensive when it is time to converse.

Detract not from others, but neither be excessive in commending. Go not thither where you know not whether you shall be welcome or not. Give not advice without being asked; and when desired, do it briefly. If two contend together, take not the part of either unconstrained, and be not obstinate in your opinion; in things indifferent be of the major side.

Reprehend not the imperfection of others, for that belongs to parents, masters, and superiors. Gaze not on the marks or blemishes of others, and ask not how they came. What you may speak in secret to your friend deliver not before others. Speak not in an unknown tongue in company, but in your own language; and that as those of quality do, and not as the vulgar. Sublime matters treat seriously. Think before you speak; pronounce not imperfectly, nor bring out your words too hastily, but orderly and distinctly.

When another speaks, be attentive yourself, and disturb not the audience. If any hesitate in his words, help him not, nor prompt him without being desired; interrupt him not, nor answer him till his speech be ended.

Treat with men at fit times about business, and whisper not in the company of others. Make no comparisons; and if any of the company be commended for any brave act of virtue, commend not another for the same. Be not apt to relate news if you know not the truth thereof. In discoursing of things you have heard, name not your author always.

A secret discover not. Be not curious to know the affairs of others, neither approach to those that speak in private. Undertake not what you cannot perform; but be careful to keep your promise. When you deliver a matter, do it without passion and indiscretion, however mean the person may be you do it to. When your superiors talk to anybody, hear them; neither speak or laugh.

In disputes be not so desirous to overcome as not to give liberty to each one to deliver his opinion, and submit to the judgment of the major part, especially if they are judges of the dispute. Be not tedious in discourse, make not many digressions, nor repeat often the same matter of discourse. Speak no evil of the absent, for it is unjust. Be not angry at table, whatever happens; and if you have reason to be so show it not; put on a cheerful countenance, especially if there be strangers, for good humor makes one dish a feast.

Set not yourself at the upper end of the table; but if it be your due, or the master of the house will have it so, contend not, lest you should trouble the company. When you speak of God or his attributes, let it be seriously, in reverence and honor, and obey your natural parents. Let your recreations be manful, not sinful. Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called conscience.

Boy Wanted Frank Crane This "want ad" appeared in the early part of this century. This boy is wanted everywhere. The family wants him, the school wants him, the office wants him, the boys want him, the girls want him, all creation wants him. The Cattle of the Sun Retold by Andrew Lang Times of plenty call for one kind of self-discipline as in the story of the goose that laid the golden eggs. Times of hardship call for other sorts of self-restraint.

During tough times, people are tempted to put aside social and moral codes. In this episode from Homer's Odyssey, the crew of Odysseus Ulysses does not have the self-control to pass a tough test. The ship swept through the roaring narrows between the rock of Scylla and the whirlpool of Charybdis, into the open sea, and the men, weary and heavy of heart, bent over their oars, and longed for rest.

Now a place of rest seemed near at hand, for in front of the ship lay a beautiful island, and the men could hear the bleating of sheep and the lowing of cows as they were being herded into their stalls. But Ulysses remembered that, in the Land of the Dead, the ghost of the blind prophet had warned him of one thing. If his men killed and ate the cattle of the Sun, in the sacred island of Thrinacia, they would all perish.

So Ulysses told his crew of this prophecy, and bade them row past the island. Eurylochus was angry and said that the men were tired, and could row no further, but must land, and take supper, and sleep comfortably on shore. On hearing Eurylochus, the whole crew shouted and said that they would go no further that night, and Ulysses had no power to compel them. He could only make them swear not to touch the cattle of the Sun God, which they promised readily enough, and so went ashore, took supper, and slept.

In the night a great storm arose: Meanwhile the crew ate up all the stores in the ship, and finished the wine, so that they were driven to catch seabirds and fishes, of which they took but few, the sea being so rough upon the rocks. Ulysses went up into the island alone, to pray to the gods, and when he had prayed he found a sheltered place, and there he fell asleep.

Eurylochus took the occasion, while Ulysses was away, to bid the crew seize and slay the sacred cattle of the Sun God, which no man might touch, and this they did, so that, when Ulysses wakened, and came near the ship, he smelled the roast meat, and knew what had been done. He rebuked the men, but, as the cattle were dead, they kept eating them for six days; and then the storm ceased, the wind fell, the sun shone, and they set the sails, and away they went. But this evil deed was punished, for when they were out of sight of land, a great thundercloud overshadowed them, the wind broke the mast, which crushed the head of the helmsman, the lightning struck the ship in the center; she reeled, the men fell overboard, and the heads of the crew floated a moment, like cormorants, above the waves.

But Ulysses had kept hold of a rope, and, when the vessel righted, he walked the deck till a wave stripped off all the tackling, and loosened the sides from the keel. Ulysses had only time to lash the broken mast with a rope to the keel, and sit on this raft with his feet in the water, while the South Wind rose again furiously, and drove the raft back till it came under the rock where was the whirlpool of Charybdis.

Here Ulysses would have been drowned, but he caught at the root of a fig tree that grew on the rock, and there he hung, clinging with his toes to the crumbling stones till the whirlpool boiled up again, and up came the timbers. Down on the timbers Ulysses dropped, and so sat rowing with his hands, and the wind drifted him at last to a shelving beach of an island.

David and Bathsheba Retold by Jesse Lyman Hurlbut Of all the vices, lust is the one many people seem to find the most difficult to control.

The story of David and Bathsheba is from the second book of Samuel in the Bible. When David first became king he went with his army upon the wars against the enemies of Israel. But there came a time when the cares of his kingdom were many, and David left Joab, his general, to lead his warriors, while he stayed in his palace on Mount Zion. One evening, about sunset, David was walking upon the roof of his palace. He looked down into a garden nearby, and saw a woman who was very beautiful.

David asked one of his servants who this woman was, and he said to him, "Her name is Bathsheba, and she is the wife of Uriah. David sent for Uriah's wife, Bathsheba, and talked with her.

He loved her, and greatly longed to take her as one of his own wives -- for in those times it was not thought a sin for a man to have more than one wife.

But David could not marry Bathsheba while her husband, Uriah, was living. Then a wicked thought came into David's heart, and he formed a plan to have Uriah killed, so that he could then take Bathsheba into his own house. David wrote a letter to Joab, the commander of his army. And in the letter he said, "When there is to be a fight with the Ammonites, send Uriah into the middle of it, where it will be the hottest; and manage to leave him there, so that he may be slain by the Ammonites.

He sent Uriah with some brave men to a place near the wall of the city, where he knew that the enemies would rush out of the city upon them; there was a fierce fight beside the wall; Uriah was slain, and other brave men with him.

Then Joab sent a messenger to tell King David how the war was being carried on, and especially that Uriah, one of his brave officers, had been killed in the fighting. When David heard this, he said to the messenger, "Say to Joab, 'Do not feel troubled at the loss of the men slain in battle.

The sword must strike down some. Keep up the siege; press forward, and you will take the city. And a little child was born to them, whom David loved greatly. Only Joab, and David, and perhaps a few others, knew that David has caused the death of Uriah; but God knew it, and God was displeased with David for this wicked deed.

Then the Lord sent Nathan, the prophet, to David to tell him that, though men knew not that David had done wickedly, God had seen it, and would surely punish David for his sin.

Nathan came to David, and he spoke to him thus: The rich man had great flocks of sheep and herds of cattle; but the poor man had only one little lamb that he had bought.

It grew up in his home with his children, and drank out of his cup, and lay upon his lap, and was like a little daughter to him. The rich man did not take one of his own sheep to kill for his guest. He robbed the poor man of his lamb, and killed it, and cooked it for a meal with his friend. He said to Nathan, "The man who did this thing deserves to die!

He shall give back to his poor neighbor fourfold for the lamb taken from him. How cruel to treat a poor man thus, without pity for him! The Lord made you king in place of Saul, and gave you a kingdom. You have a great house, and many wives. Why, then, have you done this wickedness in the sight of the Lord? You have slain Uriah with the sword of the men of Ammon; and you have taken his wife to be your wife.

For this there shall be a sword drawn against your house; you shall suffer for it, and your wives shall suffer, and your children shall suffer, because you have done this. He was exceedingly sorry; and said to Nathan, "I have sinned against the Lord. But the child that Uriah's wife has given to you shall surely die. David prayed to God for the child's life; and David took no food, but lay in sorrow, with his face upon the floor of his house. The nobles of his palace came to him, and urged him to rise up and take food, but he would not.

For seven days the child grew worse and worse, and David remained in sorrow. Then the child died; and the nobles were afraid to tell David, for they said to each other, "If he was in such grief while the child was living, what will he do when he hears that the child is dead? He washed his face, and put on his kingly robes. He went first to the house of the Lord, and worshipped; then he came to his own house, and sat down to his table, and took food.

His servants wondered at this, but David said to them, "While the child was still alive, I fasted, and prayed, and wept; for I hoped that by prayer to the Lord, and by the mercy of the Lord, his life might be spared.

But now that he is dead, my prayers can do no more for him. I cannot bring him back again. He will not come back to me, but I shall go to him. The Lord loved Solomon, and he grew up to be a wise man. After God had forgiven David's great sin, David wrote the Fifty-first Psalm, in memory of his sin and of God's forgiveness. Some of its verses are these: Have mercy upon me, O God, According to thy loving kindness: According to the multitude of thy tender mercies Blot out my transgressions.

Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, And cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my transgressions: And my sin is ever before me. Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, And done that which is evil in thy sight: Hide thy face from my sins, And blot out all mine iniquities. Create in me a clean heart, O God, And renew a right spirit within me.

Cast me not away from thy presence; And take not thy holy spirit from me. Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; And uphold me with a free spirit.

Then will I teach transgressors thy ways; And sinners shall be converted unto thee. For thou delightest not in sacrifice; else would I give it: Thou hast no pleasure in burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: A broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou will not despise.

The scene is the courtyard of Inverness, Macbeth's castle, where Macbeth and Lady Macbeth prepare to murder Duncan, king of Scotland, and thereby gain the throne. As Macbeth himself points out, his victim is his guest, his kinsman, and his king. But even these claims are not enough to stop the voracity of uncontrolled aspiration.

Lady Macbeth urges her husband to "screw your courage to the sticking place" when he seems on the verge of faltering -- and so we see that a degree of self-mastery is required to conclude their plot. But it's the wrong kind of self-control, driven only by runaway ambitions. If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly: But in these cases We still have judgment here; that we but teach Bloody instructions, which being taught return To plague the inventor: He's here in double trust: First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself.

Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels trumpet-tongued against The deep damnation of his taking-off; And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim horsed Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind.

I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other.

Table of Contents: The Book of virtues :

Enter lady macbeth How now! Lady M. He has almost supp'd: Hath he ask'd for me? Know you not he has? We will proceed no further in this business: He hath honor'd me of late; and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon. Was the hope drunk Wherein you dress'd yourself? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely? From this time Such I account thy love.

Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valor As thou art in desire? See the help page for more details. Want to get more out of the basic search box? Read about Search Operators for some powerful new tools. The Book of virtues: Bibliographic Details Other Authors: Bennett, William J. Book Language:

CARLIE from Connecticut
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