"And though to his own hurt he swears,
Still he performs his word."

I was yet a boy, when one day a gentleman came into the lot where my father was superintending the in-gathering of his hay crop, and addressing himself to a mower in my father's employment, inquired whether he would assist him the following day. He replied, "Yes." "How is this," said my father; "are you not engaged to mow for me?" "O yes," said the man. "Why, then," continued my father, "do you promise to mow for Gen. K——?" "Why," said the man, "I wish to oblige him; I love to oblige everybody." "And so," said my father, "you are willing to incur the guilt of falsehood, for you cannot perform your promise to him and myself, and in the end you must disappoint one of us; and, maybe, seriously injure our interests and your reputation."

Nothing, surely, is more common, it is believed, than this heedless manner of making promises which cannot be fulfilled. The modes in which such promises are made are multitudinous, but it is not within the compass of this article to specify them. That they are utterly wrong, and indicate, on the part of those who make them, a light regard for truth, is obvious. Besides, they often lay the foundation for grievous disappointments, they thwart important plans, derange business calculations, give birth to vexatious feelings, cause distrust between man and man, and sap the foundations of morality and religion. Promises should always be made with due caution and due reservation: "If the Lord will," "if life is spared," "if unforeseen circumstances do not interpose to prevent." It is always easy to state some conditions, or make some such reservations. Or, rather, it would be easy, were it not that one is often urged beyond all propriety, to make the promise, as if the making of it, of course insured its fulfillment, although a thousand circumstances may interfere to prevent it.

This is a subject of vast importance to the community. There are evils also connected with it of alarming magnitude, and which all needful efforts should be made to remove. Especially should this subject attract the attention of parents. The mischief often begins with them and around their own hearths. How common it is for parents to make promises to their children, while the latter are yet tottering from chair to chair, which are never designed to be fulfilled. And, at length, the deception is discovered by the little prattlers, and often much earlier than parents imagine. Often, too, is the parent reminded of his promise and of its non-fulfillment. And, sometimes, this is done days and weeks after the promise has been made and neglected. The consequence is, that the child comes to feel that his parent has little or no regard to truth himself, and that truth is a matter of minor importance. So that child grows up. So he goes forth into society, and enters upon business. Will he be likely to forget the lessons thus early taught him, and the example thus early set him?

I am able to illustrate this subject by an incident which occurred in my own experience within the last two months. I must tell the story in my own simple way, and as it is entirely truthful, I hope salutary impressions may be made in every quarter where they are needed, and where this article shall be read.

Having occasion for the services of a mechanic in relation to a certain piece of work, I called upon one in my neighborhood, then in the employment of a gentleman, and was informed, on stating my object, that as he should be through with his present engagement on the evening of a certain day, he would commence my work on the following morning. The specified time arrived, but the man did not appear. I waited two or three days, in hourly expectation of his appearance, but was doomed to disappointment. At length, I again called upon him and found him still in the employment of the gentleman aforenamed. On inquiring the reason of his delay, I was informed that on completing his former engagement the gentleman had concluded to have more done than he originally intended, and insisted upon the continuance of the mechanic in his service until his work was entirely finished.

I said to him, "But did you not agree with me for a specified day?"

"Yes."

"Did not your engagement with Mr. —— terminate on the evening previous to that day?"

"Yes."

"Were you under obligation to that gentleman beyond that time?"

"No."

"Did not your continuance with him involve a violation of your promise to me?"

"Yes."

"Was not this wrong? and how are you able to justify your conduct?"

"Sir," said he, "you do not understand the matter. I am to blame, but my employer is still more to blame. Look at it. I am a mechanic and a poor man. I am dependent on my labor for the support of myself and family. This gentleman is rich, and gives me a great deal of employment; I do not like to disoblige him, and, sir, when I told him, on the termination of my engagement to him, that I had promised to enter upon a piece of work for you, he would not release me. He claimed that I was in good faith bound to work for him till his various jobs were done."

"And did you think so, my friend?"

"No," he replied, "I did not; but he told me that if I did not stay he would give me no further employment."

"And so," said I, "you violated your conscience, wronged your own soul, disappointed me, and all for the sake of obliging a man who was willing that you should suffer in point of conscience and reputation, if his selfish purposes might be answered."

"I am sensible," said he, "that I did wrong, but what course shall we pursue, who are dependent upon our daily labor, for our support?"

"I admit," said I, "that you and others similarly situated, are under a grievous temptation. But honesty, in the long run, is the best policy. Acting upon the same principles with the gentleman who has detained you, I might hereafter refuse to employ you. And others might refuse, whose work you are probably engaged to perform, but are postponing to gratify him. The consequence of all this is, that your promises will soon pass for nothing. You will be considered as a man not of your word, and when once your good name is lost, you will become poorer than you now are, and remain without employment and without friends."

No one, it is believed, can read the foregoing incident without being impressed with the great impropriety chargeable upon the gentleman referred to. The temptation he spread before the poor mechanic was utterly wrong and unbecoming. It was nothing short of oppression. It was bringing his wealth to bear upon a point with which it had no legitimate connection. It was placing self before right; it was a reckless sacrifice of the interests of others for his own gratification.

That such cases are common, is well known; but their frequency is only a proof of the slight regard in which the sacredness of promises is held, and to the violation of which employers frequently contribute by the temptations which they spread, and the coercion which they practice. We do not justify for a single moment the mechanics and laborers who violate their pledges. We insist upon it that it is their solemn duty to encounter any and every temporal evil rather than sacrifice truth and conscience; but it is believed they would seldom be guilty of this violation were they not pressed beyond measure by employers.

We must for a moment again advert to parents. You see, friends, what an evil exists throughout the community. It is everywhere, and is helping to work the ruin of immortal souls. It often begins, it is believed, in the family. Parents are guilty, in the first place, and they early inoculate their children with the evil. And the infection, once taken, is likely to spread and to pervade the whole moral system. It enters into other relations of life. It reaches to other departments of duty, and tends to destroy our sense of obligation to God. It weakens our regard for promises made to the Author of our being. In short, this disregard for the fulfillment of sacred promises helps to sap the foundations of moral virtue, and to prepare the soul for a world where falsehood reigns supreme, and where there is no confidence between man and man.

Veritas.

Original.