Our Gift | Page 8

particularly fond of certain kinds of game, but exceedingly averse to
other kinds of much better flavor. Now it happened that, whenever the
hunter wished to give chase to moose or deer, Jowler was sure to scare
up a woodchuck, or some still filthier game, leaving the deer to make
good his escape.
Day after day thus passed away, leaving the hunter's labors no suitable
reward. It was in vain that the hunter expostulated with his dog. Neither
threats nor blows were of any avail. When the master would hunt one

thing, the dog was sure to be hunting something else.
At length, both master and dog seemed to tire of their constant conflict,
and to desire some adjustment, whereby each might accommodate his
own taste to some extent, and yet live in harmony with the other. With
this view, a friendly conference was held, in which Jowler appeared so
tenacious, that the hunter well-nigh despaired of any adjustment
whatever.
It was, however, finally agreed, that Jowler should hunt game to his
own taste five days in the week, and devote the remaining hunting day
to such game as his master preferred. Jowler, however, was careful to
stipulate that, if he chanced to find himself ill, or not in hunting trim,
on the sixth day, he should be considerately dealt by, and not forced to
go beyond his strength.
The arrangements being fully made, a paper was drawn up containing
the articles of agreement, and both Jowler and the hunter affixed their
names thereto. Jowler, no doubt, congratulated himself on having it all
to his liking five days out of six; while the hunter, perhaps, flattered
himself that the taste of venison one day in the week, would so improve
the standard of Jowler's tastes, as to bend him, at length, altogether to
his own wishes.
For a while, things seemed to promise well, under the new arrangement.
By and by, when the day for hunting venison came round, Jowler was
sick, and told his master he couldn't hunt that day. So his master very
considerately excused him, according to the terms of their agreement.
It was not long, however, before Jowler refused to hunt for another
reason. He said, he had followed his own game with such constancy
and alacrity for the five days, that he was too much exhausted to hunt
venison on the sixth day. He must rest from any farther fatigue; and
claimed the continued indulgence of his master, by virtue of their
contract.
The hunter urged in vain that Jowler had virtually violated the contract;
for although it was stipulated that he should not be compelled to the

chase to his personal detriment, yet it was implied, of course, that he
should use the same precaution to be in hunting trim on the sixth day,
as he did to be so on the other five. While the fact was, he purposely
deprived himself of rest during the five days, that he might be
compelled to employ the sixth as a day of rest, thus virtually
appropriating the whole time to his own service.
Jowler, however, pretended not to be convinced of his wrong. Nor did
his dishonesty stop here. His master soon discovered that, while he was
pretending to be unable from his excessive fatigue to hunt venison, he
was really continuing to hunt his own game, as on the other five days.
Thus did he go on, his old loves gaining strength day by day, and
impelling him to a total disregard of his contract in order to indulge
them, until his master would bear with him no longer, but drove him
from his door.
Having deprived himself of the care of so good a master, he soon fell
into still greater irregularities; and a neighboring shepherd, suspecting
him of committing depredations upon his flock, killed him, thus
terminating his vicious career.
Moral.--Excessive engagedness in worldly labors six days in the week,
is no sufficient excuse for the neglect of public worship on the seventh;
and a vicious love, continually indulged, is quite sure to root out even
our good resolutions.
TAKE CARE OF YOUR BOOKS.
Suppose you loan a book to a friend, would you not consider it his
imperative duty to take the best of care of it, as though it were his own,
and return it in as good condition as it was when taken? Certainly you
would. Then the same duty devolves upon you, as a member of the
Sunday school. The school lends you books, and expects you to take
good care of them, and return them early. This is no trifling duty. If you
have a right to be negligent, every other scholar must have the same
right, and the Library would be speedily ruined. Thus your negligence
greatly wrongs