The Young Man Leaving
Home
by John Angell James, 1844
INTRODUCTION
"Trust in the Lord with all your
heart, and do not lean on your own understanding; in all your ways
acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight. Do not be wise in
your own eyes; fear the Lord and shun evil. This will bring health to your
body and nourishment to your bones." Proverbs 3:5-8
A youth leaving home! There is something a little
melancholy in the idea. Home is one of the most delightful of words, and it
is no wonder that it should have become the subject of poetry and song.
There is music in the sound; and in every heart that is not yet
corrupted—there is a chord that vibrates to the note. It will ever awaken a
long train of associations and recollections—painful or pleasant—as may have
been the conduct of the individual by whom the word is repeated. It is at
home that parents and children, brothers and sisters—as long as Providence
permits them to dwell together—mingle in the sweet fellowship of domestic
bliss.
But you, whose eye is ranging over these pages, are
leaving, or have left, your father's house. You are going, or are gone, away
from home. I sympathize with you in the sorrows of that tearful hour of your
existence. Well do I remember, even at this distance from the time, the
scene which my own home presented, when I finally left it, to embark on
life's stormy and dangerous ocean. My mother, one of the kindest
and tenderest that ever bore that dear relationship, unable to sustain the
parting, had retired to the garden—my sisters wept—my father
walked silently by my side to the edge of the town, where I was to take
horse and ride to meet the coach that was to carry me to London—while my
own heart was almost overwhelmed with emotion, under the idea that I was
leaving home, to encounter the anxieties, dangers, and responsibilities of a
new and untried course!
In any aspect of the event, it is no trifling or
inconsiderable transaction—to leave the scenes, the friends, and the
guardians of our childhood—to leave that spot, and its dear inhabitants,
with which are associated all our earliest reminiscences—to go from beneath
the immediate inspection of a mother's anxious love, and the protection of a
father's watchful care, and expose ourselves to the perils, privations, and
sorrows that await the traveler on his journey through this world! You
ought, as a child, to feel a pang as your mother presses you to her
bosom, and sobs out her parting exclamation, "Goodbye, my son!" You ought to
feel pensive and sad, as your father squeezes your hand, and turns
from you with a heart too full to speak. You ought, as you cross the
threshold of that habitation where you have been nurtured so tenderly, to
cast a longing, lingering look behind. You would be unworthy of your
parents' love, and of home's endearments—if you could leave them without
emotion.
Still, however, these feelings are to be guided and
limited by reflection. You cannot always remain at home—to be nursed in the
lap of domestic enjoyment. You have a part to act in the great drama of
life—and must leave home to prepare to act it well. It is the appointment of
God that man should not live in idleness—but gain his bread by the sweat of
his brow; and you must be placed out in the world to get yours by honest
industry. In some few cases, the son remains with the father, and prepares
for his future calling at home; but in by far the greater number of
instances it is necessary for young men to learn their trade or profession,
and to procure their livelihood, by being placed with strangers at a
distance from home. This is your case, and in kind solicitude for your
welfare, this little volume has been prepared, and is now presented to you,
with the prayers and best wishes of the author.