But again I am digressing too far from the story.

So soon as my friend was old enough, he was sent to one of the primary schools, and was a pretty constant scholar at that, and afterwards at a grammar school, till he was about twelve years old.  He was, of course, much with other lads of his own age, and some who were older and younger than himself.  He was, also, often in the streets, and as there were a great many people who used profane language in those days,—­as there are at the present time,—­he heard much of it; yet he had been so carefully trained that he did not for years utter wicked words.

It is always painful to most persons, old as well as young, to hear profanity, even though it be very common in their hearing, if they are never accustomed to its use.

My young friend had been taught to reverence the name of that great Being who made heaven and earth and all things.  He was a member of a Sabbath school, and thus had much valuable advice from his faithful teacher to govern his conduct in word and deed.  For a while he heeded this, and was careful of his moral character.  But by-and-by, he overstepped the bounds of right.

It is very true that “evil communications corrupt good manners;” and that if one would not be bad, one means of safety is to keep out of bad company.

My friend was, in a few years, placed in a store, where there was a large business carried on.  He came in contact with persons who were not so carefully instructed as he had been.  They made no hesitation in pronouncing the names of God and Jesus Christ in a blasphemous and profane manner.  He resisted the pernicious influence of their example for a while, but at last it became so familiar to his ears, that he could hear wicked words spoken without even a thrill of horror in his bosom.

He, however, had not the disposition to speak them, till one day, when some little thing in the store did not suit him, his passion was aroused, and, in the angry excitement of the moment, he spoke out,—­and in that unguarded expression there was profanity,—­a miserable, blasphemous, wicked word.  He had uttered his first oath. The disposition had been lurking in his heart for several days to do this; but he had not been able to so far lower his moral sense as to do it before.  Now he felt as though he had done a brave act,—­that he had achieved something very grand.  But soon, very soon, conscience whispered her gentle yet severe rebuke.  She complained sadly of the wickedness that was done.  The blush of shame mantled his cheek.  Remorse took hold on his spirit.  He looked about to see who was upbraiding him; but none seemed to notice it.  He resolved that he would not again give occasion for such feelings of regret and sorrow to himself as he then felt.

Could you have then looked into his heart, you would have pitied him.  This resolution he kept a few weeks, when, being a little irritated, he a second time profaned the holy name of Deity.  This time he felt some compunctions of conscience, but they were not as powerful as before; the first step had been already taken, and a second was much easier.