Keowee Courier

Who Taught You to Swear.

Many years ago when there were few railroads, a party set out from a Southern city for a weary journey by stage-coach. Amid all their discomforts, they had one great blessing. The youthful driver was very cheerful, and seemed intent on making his passengers as much so as lay in his power. Many a weary mile over wretched roads was beguiled by his merry whistle, or lively song: the rains poured, the horses lagged, but heard above the winds was the carolled air of "Home Sweet Home," or the bird-like whistle of "Blue-eyed Mary." Oh, it is such a joy to see another satisfied and happy in his lot and at his toil! It makes the lowly look up in hope, and the lofty look down in humanity: it makes the millionaire honor his driver or his footman.

Now that is the bright side of our young stage-driver; why must there be two sides to everything? Before the party halted, after the first day's journey, the jaded horses thought they had gone as far as profitable and it was contrary to their sense of right that they were pressed on. Our hero on the box coaxed, whistled, patted, and at last whipped them, but still they dragged heavily on; when at last, losing all patience, the pleasant sounds that had cheered the insiders were changed. There did not seem to be passion in his tones, but having tried all other motives to speed the driver now began to swear, as if profanity could impel a worn out horse. "God," and "Jesus," that "dearest of all names above," were repeated with shocking frequency and carelessness. Some of the passengers were unnerved, but others could say with the prophet, "The reproaches of them that reproached Thee, fell on me."

Among the passengers was an aged minister. He said nothing at the time, but when they stopped for the night he made himself quite familiar with the young driver, asking him questions about his business and his horses, manifesting an interest in all that he found interested him.

When ready to start at break of day, he asked permission to sit on the box, that he might see the country and talk with him, "For," said he, "I'm very fond of the company of young men." This familiarity and condescension completely won the heart of would-be John: and in the kindest manner he gave all the information in his power to the old gentleman.

"You're a minister, are you?" he asked, after a little while.

"Yes, my friend, I am a Baptist minister."

"A Baptist minister, are you?" he cried, "why my mother's a Baptist; and when I get home I'll tell her about you;" and strong filial love beamed in his eye.

"Then your mother's a Baptist; is she a good woman?" asked the old man.

"Indeed she is sir," replied the affectionate son: "I owe her everything. I don't know a single thing which she did not teach me."

"Are you sure of that my young friend?"

"Yes, sir, for my father died when I was very small, and left us poor. We were three or four miles from a school, and as I was her all, sir she couldn't trust me so far from her all day. So she taught me at home till we moved away from there; and then I was old enough to go to work. Yes, sir, I will tell it to her credit; she taught me all I know."

"Did she teach you to swear, my son?" cried the old gentleman in a stentorian voice, and clapping his hand heavily on the driver's shoulder, "Tell me, did your mother teach you to swear?" The youth looked thunder-struck. He colored deeply and hung his head in silence.

"Come my son," said the minister, "you have told me that your mother was a Baptist; I want to know whether she is the right kind of a Baptist or not; did she teach you to swear?"

The young driver looked up. There was none of that dogged insolence which we sometimes see in persons who have been justly provoked; no look of defiance, which said plain as words could say, "I can swear if I please, I'm my own master and it is not your business who taught me to it." No, even in his sin he showed the gentle touches of that humble mother's moulding hand.

"I'm mortified, sir," he said, that you heard me swear last night to my horses. I was very tired, and very anxious to reach—"

"And did your horses feel the oath more than the whip, my friend? We inside could not discover that they were at all influenced by it," said the minister.

"Of course not, sir. And as to my mother teaching me to swear, she does not know that I ever took a profane word on my lips. I hope she never will know it, for I believe it would break her heart. I know as well as any Minister can teach me, that swearing is a low and wicked, as well as useless practice; but I've been thrown into a good deal of bad company in my business, and have fallen into the habit, hardly knowing when I do it. I forget when I lose my patience."

"Do you forget when at home with your mother?"

"Never; her presence forbids it. I could not swear in her hearing."

"And yet you can so in the hearing of the God you insult, of the Saviour who died for you!" replied the old man. "God forgive the child of a praying mother for such impiety!"

"I declare, with His help, that you have heard my last oath," said the young man deeply moved.

"When I left my daughter's house," said the Minister, "she put a noble great loaf of fruit-cake in my trunk. When we part I will give it to you for a present—for your mother, if you will promise to tell her how you got it, and all the particulars of your interview. Confess your sin to her and to God, and that, my son, will enable you to keep your good resolution."

The driver promised to do so, and after that he was never heard to use a coarse or profane word. Oh, what a mighty power does a Christian mother still exercise over her beloved wanderers, restraining them from sin, or drawing them out of its meshes when once ensnared.