JACK'S SERMON

"I don't just know that I understand what you mean," said Big Smith slowly. "Isn't doing right the same as not doing wrong? That's what I've been taught, that a good fellow was one who didn't drink and swear and steal."

"You've got the cart before the horse, my distinguished friend," replied Jack. "A fellow isn't good because he doesn't do those things, but he doesn't do them because he is good. Now I know a place where there are more than a thousand men living all together. They neither drink, swear, nor steal; they don't even fight. Not one of them."

"That must be a fine community, Jack," said Big Smith quickly.

"Well, it isn't. It's one of the toughest places 'in all this broad land of ours,' to quote from Ward's last speech. Not much. I don't think you, even you, Big Smith, would like it there, even with all the virtues I have mentioned, and they're not half of them, let me tell you, either. I could give you a catalogue more than a yard long, just like them."

"I don't see, Jack. I think you must be joking. What's the place?"

"Never was more serious in all my life," replied Jack lightly. "Now listen, and I'll give you the name of the place. It's the State prison."

Big Smith looked blankly at Jack for a moment, while all the other boys present burst into a loud laugh. It was not so much what Jack had said as the expression of amazement which spread over Big Smith's face as he heard the words.

The laughter of the boys continued for several minutes, and at last Big Smith said slowly: "I never in all my life before thought of it in that way, Jack. Up where I live, when they speak of a good boy they always mean one who doesn't do anything bad."

"And right they are," said Jack, with a laugh; "that is, right as far as they go. The only trouble is they don't go far enough. Any old pumpkin out in the field doesn't do any of these things either, but they don't call the pumpkin 'good' on that account, at least as far as I've ever observed. Did you ever go to a circus, Big Smith?"

"I never did."

"Well, that's all right; I'm not telling you you ought to. All I mean is that if you should happen to go some time, just to take the children, you know, of course, you'd probably see a lot of cages there. And the cages would be full of awful beasts. Wild animals, you know. There'd be the hyena, he's a very cheerful bird; and there'd be the rhinoceros, and the elephant, and the tiger, and the mosquito, and the lion, and all sorts of gr-o-w-ling, savage beasts of the field," and Jack's voice became low as if he were trying to imitate the sounds of the animals he named. "Now, Big Smith, if you ever were so naughty as to take the children to see such sights, you'd feel perfectly safe, because not one of those monsters was ever known to devour a man, woman, or even one of the children, for whose sake you probably had gone. You see they're held back by the bars, and they can't do any damage, no matter how tempting your tender flesh might appear to be. But, Big Smith, honestly, you wouldn't feel any warmer toward the gentle hyena, or the mild and smiling tiger, would you? or think it any safer to leave those tender little infants you had gotten together, and for whose sake alone you had gone to the circus--I mean just to see the animals, of course--there in the tent, if the bars were all taken away, although not one of those animals had ever done any damage to any man?"

"I--I--don't just see the point," said Big Smith, somewhat bewildered. "What do you mean?"

"Alas! alas!" said Jack in mock despair. "Well, what I mean is just this. You don't trust a lion or a tiger in the menagerie because he hasn't done any harm. So you don't always take to a fellow just because he's never done anything very bad, either. He may be held back, he may be afraid, he may not know anything about the bad, and so not do it because he doesn't know enough to do it. Now, Ned Butler, who graduated last year, you know, or Little Puddle's big brother, why either or both of those fellows just gripped the whole school, you see. They never were in any of the mean things, but there was something besides that. They tried not only not to do wrong, but they also tried to do right. Every fellow in the school knew that both of those boys were just doing their level best to do the square thing every time, as well as keep out of the mean things. It wasn't half so much what they did not do as what they did do that counted, let me tell you. They had good, red blood in their veins every time, and the boys knew and felt it too, but it seemed just as if they used every ounce of muscle they had to do something. They weren't thinking of the things they didn't do."

"I--I--think I'm beginning to see what you mean," said Big Smith quietly.

"I'm mighty glad you are able to see the point once in your life," said Jack good-naturedly.

"You'd better be glad," interrupted Ward, who sympathized somewhat with Big Smith in his manifest trouble, "you'd better be glad that you were able to make the point plain enough to be seen for once in your life, Jack, as I've told you so many times lately."

The lad laughed heartily, for he was one of the few boys who was willing to receive as well as give the bantering of the school.

Turning again to Big Smith, and noting the unusual seriousness of his manner he said, in a far more gentle tone than he had before used, "Honestly, Big Smith, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. You started the thing you know, and asked me what I thought was the reason you didn't stand better with the fellows, and I told you just what I thought. It was none of my business, and I ought not to have done it. Who am I to preach to you? I'm one of those who do just exactly the opposite of the very thing I've been urging on you, for I leave undone those things which I ought to have done, and do the things which I ought not to do. Forgive me if I've said what I ought not to have said," and Jack, in his impulsive way, stretched forth his hand.

Big Smith took it, but made no reply, and in a few moments slipped quietly out of the room.

As soon as he was gone Jack began to upbraid himself for the words he had spoken, and in a brief time he too departed. None of the boys ever knew of the visit he immediately made in Big Smith's room, nor did they ever hear of the long conversation between the two boys which followed.

It was soon evident, however, that a change of some kind was coming over Big Smith. Many of his ways were greatly modified, and his devotion to Jack Hobart became as marked as it was strange.

None of the boys, however, thought very much of the matter, for Jack was universally popular, and no one could long retain a grudge against him, and to that fact was probably attributed the new departure in the case of Big Smith.

Pond returned to the school on the following week, and great was the rejoicing among his friends. The boy had but little money, and while in his calm, quiet way he never concealed the fact nor hesitated to give it as a reason for not entering into many of the projects of his companions, he never obtruded it nor referred to his poverty as if he gloried in it. He was one of the most popular boys in the Weston school, thoroughly respected and warmly loved for his genuine manliness.

He had continued his studies during his absence, and had been able to keep well up with his class, and as soon as he returned Ward at once perceived that Pond was determined to retain the laurels he had won in the preceding year if hard work would accomplish it.

It soon became manifest that the struggle for the first place in the class lay between Ward, Pond, and Berry, but the three boys lost none of their regard for one another in the contest.
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