Boys and men are great cowards. There is hardly any accusation that an Englishman or boy resents so much as to be called a coward. Still I venture to make the accusation, and will try and make good my words. I do not mean that you are cowards in the sense of being afraid to attempt any act of daring. You have pluck enough to tackle a fellow half as big again as yourself, pluck enough to endure pain without a word, pluck enough to risk your life to save another, but too often you have not pluck enough to say no, or to brave a laugh. That is what I mean by saying that men and boys are cowards. You will let the worst fellow of the lot be the leader and give the tone to conversation because you have not the pluck to say boldly that it is wrong, and that you will not join in it. This want of moral courage makes a lad give up little by little his hold on what is right. Sunday school, Church-going, prayers given up because Jem chaffs so about them. If he chooses to neglect them that is his look out. You have as much right to your opinion as he has to his. Why should you let him show more courage in doing wrong than you in doing right. Are you afraid of him? No. Well then, stick to your duty.

I said just now that going to work throws you in with a different set of companions. Here, specially, comes the test of your courage. Are you going to follow bad leaders, or have you the courage of your own opinions. There is one particular subject where courage is most needed, and where it most often fails. A young lad naturally wants to seem to be manly—has a sort of feeling that he would like to show that he is not just a little boy and bound to do as he is told. He is tempted to show his manliness by neglect of home commands, rough and rude manners, bad language and bad talk. I have remarked before how home obedience and true manliness go together; here I want to speak more particularly about bad language and bad talking, and the evil it leads to. S. Paul speaks about it very plainly when he says, speaking of the things that should not be named amongst Christians, “neither filthiness nor foolish talking nor jesting, which are not convenient.” Now, boys, all indecent words and conversations are wrong—they are sinful, unmanly, degrading. I know you cannot help hearing much that is wrong. Shame, be it said, to the men of England—yes, men who talk of advancement and freedom, men who are fathers of families, that they too often make or allow the talk of the workshop to be such that no boy can work there without hearing words and jokes which are not fit, I do not say for Christians to hear, but not fit to be spoken. Hearing words of evil you often cannot help. To join in them you can and must refuse, and unless you do so refuse you are a coward and false to your profession. I do not speak here of actual deeds of sin—no one can do or join in an impure deed without knowing that he is sinning, but many think that there is no great harm in listening to and laughing at what others say. Be warned in time, it is but a very little step from laughing at to joining in bad conversation, and a very small step from words to action. The same want of courage that joins in the laugh will make it difficult to say no when tempted further. Never, with companions of your own sex, and still more with those of the opposite sex, let any corrupt communications proceed out of your mouth. If it is necessary for you to speak upon such subjects ask advice of those older than yourself, and not of companions of your own age. You know lads that you love your mother and care for your sisters. You would be furious if anyone spoke to or of them as you sometimes hear women spoken of. What would be an insult to them is an insult to any woman. Stand up for the honour and respect due to others as you would for your own mother or sister. You would not talk like that before your mother. Make it a rule never to do or say anything that you would be ashamed to say in her presence, or in the presence of anyone you respect. Courage is what you want here and plenty of it, but if you will only make a stand for the right, strength, not your own, will be given you. I can tell you of one who did so try and do the same. Bishop Pattison, who died some years ago, when he was fearlessly doing his duty in the islands of the Pacific, was, once a boy, face to face with this difficulty. He was in the cricket eleven of his school—a good player and very fond of the game. It had become the custom at cricket suppers for bad talk to be indulged in. Pattison one evening rose up at the table and said, “If this conversation is to be allowed I must leave the eleven. I cannot share in this conversation—if you determine to continue it I shall have no choice but to go.” They did not want to lose him, and the foul conversation was stopped.