My dear young friends. When I was a little child like one of you, I was very fond of reading; yet my love of books was not brought about by any will of my own, but by circumstances which, at the time, I thought were hard to bear. I was a very weak puny boy, small of my age, and suffered much from ill health. My mother, who was as kind a one as ever lived, loved me dearly, perhaps the more because I was weak and sickly, and stood most in need of her kindness and attention, I was sent early to school; and shall never forget the morning when I parted from my dear mother: it was in a strange room, a great way from home; and I clung about her, and shed many sad and bitter tears, when she kissed me and bade me good-bye. It was a very lonely thing to find myself among strange faces in the play-ground, all red and healthy, while mine was pale with grief. For a long time I made no friends among my school-fellows, who, strong and healthy, had no great liking for the quiet boy, but treated me with much rudeness and ill-nature. Then it was I sighed for companions who would not laugh at my weakness; and I used to creep into a corner of the school-room while the rest were enjoying their noisy games outside, and indulge in tears; and very sad and 2 TO MY GOOD LITTLE READERS. 66 miserable I was, you may be sure. At length a source of pleasure sprung up in my books, which I used to read for hours together, till I found in them a sweet solace for my mind. At last my school-fellows began to find out I was not quite so disagreeable as they had at first thought me; and though I could not join in their boisterous play, I was enabled to assist them in their tasks; and very happy I was, I assure you, in making myself useful and beloved. When spoken of by them, I was usually called quiet George. A kind word used to bring tears into my eyes; and they soon found I had a gentle and loving heart. And now I am a man, with dear companions of my own, and kind friends to share my joys and sorrows, I often bless the chance that made me fond of books. The love of reading is a most precious thing; for with it a man, be he ever so poor, has a store of riches the world cannot take away. Sitting by his fireside, he can travel through all the countries of the world, and converse with the illustrious dead, in language in which there is no reproach. It is with the desire of making you inclined to reading for its own sake, that I now address you, and I trust we may be such friends together, that we may learn to love each other. I, who have never seen you, may feel happy in providing for you instruction and amusement; you in listening to my voice through the pages of this your own book. It will be my delight to think that I am, in ever so small a degree, preparing you for the great battle of life; and when I shall be asleep beneath the sod, with the green grass waving above my head, you may remember with pleasure, that it was in the pages of the JUVENILE MUSEUM you first learnt to devote yourselves to the glorious task of self-improvement. By that name, acquired in youth, and continued to me in manhood, let me subscribe myself in age, Your Sincere Friend, QUIET GEORGE." |