--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Valentine, Sophy collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 4 number: 8 published: 1901-06 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Sophy Valentine, "How a Shiftless Boy Was Started," *Improvement Era* 4, no. 8 (June 1901): 575–582.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0408unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera0408unse start_page: 575 end_page: 582 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1901-06) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0408unse publication_year: 1901 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1901, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # How a Shiftless Boy Was Started HOW A SHIFTLESS BOY WAS STARTED. BY SOPHY VALENTINE. Tim Tippins enjoyed the distinction of being considered the most trifling and worthless object among the boys in D ville. Tim had heard that, ever since he could remember, until he had be- gun to think, himself, that there was some truth in it. People generally regarded him as a good-for-nothing, and said that his very name was suggestive of shif tlessness. But, of course, Tim was blameless as far as the name was concerned; indeed, he disliked it as much as anyone could, and would often think, in a vague way, that if he had had a bristling name, like Christopher, or a solid one, like John, that possibly he might have amounted to something. It was not for lack of ambition in certain directions, that Tim was as he was, for he had his secret aspirations, and not a few of them but before he reached half way to his goal, he generally ; made up his mind that, after all there was not enough in it to war- rant the exertion, and so he left it. The half -finished wind-mills, dump-carts, sleds, etc., scattered all over the place, could amply testify to this, in his childhood. He had no inborn pride to sustain him. At least, if it had been born in him, it was smothered in an early stage of its exist- ence, for Tim distinctly remembered that his childish failures had always been met with, "Well, you couldn't expect anything else from him." He was, at one time, much attracted toward the very com- mendable pursuit of gardening. He would procure a corner some- where, each spring, but as he was not born with a knowledge of 576 IMPROVEMENT ERA. what might best promote the growth of his beans and morning- glories, they seldom came to anything, and Tim became discour- aged. His father was always so busy getting things around him, that he could find no time to "bother" with the boy; most likely, he had no inclination in that direction, either. His mother was a most excellent woman, and a splendid house- keeper; but where things had to be kept in such tip-top order al- ways, and the scrubbing-brush and dust-rag were always kept going, any sane person might know that she couldn't "waste" any of her valuable time on a boy like Tim, who never finished anything, any- way. Now, if he had been at all like the girls, and would have sat down decently in the house and sewed carpet rags, his mother could have done something with him; but if she did get him started with a needle and some rags, she could be quite sure that the mo- ment she turned her back on him, Tim would be off, and she was sure to find him trying to invent some wonderful machine, which would be shortly left to adorn the yard, when his father should find him with his hammer and nails. And, of course, they always knew that that was all it would amount to; he couldn't do any- thing completely to save his soul. So, little by little, Tim came to the conclusion that it wasn't worth trying for; no one expected anything of him, anyway. His sister. Sue, was just the reverse of Tim. She was naturally bright and industrious, and what Sue couldn't do, wasn't worth much. She was father's pet, and was constantly held up as a pat- tern for Tim. With her cleverness for a background, his shif tlessness stood out in glaring relief. She might have been a great help to her brother, had she not been afflicted with sarcastic tendencies, which never failed to exasperate Tim. Tim didn't like work: that is, he didn't object to work of a certain kind. The height of his childish ambition had been to be- come a clerk in some store. But when he had hinted at such a possibility, they had laughed at him; his father had scowled, and told him that he would better learn to handle a shovel first; and so long as he couldn't be trusted to shut a gate without some one having to ! HOW A SHIFTLESS BOY WAS STARTED. 577 go and see that it was done, he would better get rid of his clerk- ing notions. In his wildest dreams of future greatness, Tim used to fancy himself a soldier, who, without much exertion, suddenly became an officer of high rank; and once, in a burst of confidence, he had told his sister. Sue, that he was going to be a soldier, and die for his country. Sue laughed immoderately, and told him that she thought that would be a fitting end to his usefulness. The boy greatly lacked self-confidence, and when anyone ridi- culed his projects, he dropped them, then and there. If some one — had studied his makeup, perhaps but where is the use of tamper- — ing with that "if" much good might have been accomplished; many lives might not have gone to destruction, if certain things had been considered. To return to Tim. When he was about fourteen, he astonished his mother, one day, by declaring that he was going on a mission to preach the gospel, some day. But his mother was out of pa- tience with him for some of his negligence, and she answered testily, "I should think you would make a fine preacher, you can't as much as say a prayer at home, or ask a blessing on the food." Tim was silent, but he felt injured. In his childish ignorance, it seemed to him unjust to pelt him in that fashion, for he had never been asked to do such a thing. His father had always seemed to consider the family praying his own exclusive privilege, and never asked any of the family to share it. Whether it was that he considered his wife and children unworthy to supplicate the Lord, in his presence, I cannot say Tim loved money, not for money's own sake, but he loved to have a little sum of his own, and he was always quite willing to spend it for overalls, suspenders and shoes. When he became older, he would like to have a little spending money for his own use, but as all his little earnings, away from home, had to go for clothes, and his father often declared that he would never pay him a cent for what he did for him at home, Tim had managed to get through life, so far, with precious little work. His father always complained loudly of his trifling disposition, so that the neighbors were never anxious to employ him. He, therefore, very early took to sheep-herding as his life's vocation, 678 IMPROVEMENT ERA. and that is, unfortunately, not an occupation likely to improve the ways of a boy with shiftless tendencies. When Tim had moved camp, and chored around diligently, for a few months, he generally felt a pressing need of recreation, and came home to spend his earnings in a couple of weeks. Then he went back empty-handed to start afresh. At such home-comings, Tim's father always stipulated that Tim should do the chores, while he loafed around home; but Tim knew, from past experience, that if he wasn't there to do them in time, Ms father would go at them himself. And if dad did scold and •carry on about it somewhat —shucks! who cared—father had al- ways done that, no matter what Tim did! One day, there came a preacher to D ville, which, by the way, happened often; and, indeed, D ville had as good and able preachers, as ever came from abroad, but then, you know, a prophet is never honored in his own country. when a stranger from So, Salt Lake was announced for the day, the young people turned out en masse. On this particular Sunday, in the afternoon, Tim was perched on a hitching pole, up on Main Street, watching, with some con- genial souls, the good people as they hurried to meeting in their Sunday best. There were not many more coming now, and Tim still sat dan- gling his long legs, and was wondering what he would better do with his valuable time, till meeting should be dismissed, and he could resume the pleasant task of criticising the girls, when a belated meeting-goer came hastily up and called to Tim to go with him. "Me?" said Tim in much astonishment, "not much! I get all the preaching I want at home." "The other hurried on. Tim jumped down, yawned, stretched his legs, and belabored the sidewalk a few times with his feet, in a vain attempt at a jig, and then turned slowly, and swaggered lazily up the street. "Where going?" someone shouted. "Dun'no." "Ain't going to meetin'?" "Not on your life!" Tim pushed his hat as far back as he could get it, buried his HOW A SHIFTLESS BOY WAS STARTED. 579 big hands in his trouser pockets, and whistled as he went. When he reached the meeting house, the choir was just singing, "Come, follow me, the Savior said." The words rang out clear and distinct, on the soft summer air, through the open door. Tim stopped his whistling and wished he had taken the other side of the street; he had forgotten the open door. He didn't exactly like to be seen from within; he still had that much grace in him. He concluded to stop by the gate until they should begin to pray, then the door would be closed. There was a brief silence; then a clear, earnest voice began to supplicate the Lord, and Tim heard gome of the words before the door was softly closed. Tim didn't know that voice. Who could it be, anyway? Like most idlers, Tim was inquisitive, so he stepped a little nearer; and the voice continued. It pleaded for the progression of the good cause; for the poor and the needy, the good and the bad, and for the ignorant and the wayward. "Great Scott! but he can pray! Wonder who in — ." He stopped short, for the door was suddenly thrown open; the people began to cough and to clear their throats, as if to make up for the long silence, and there stood Tim right in the middle of the path, abashed and confused. Well, there was nothing to do now but to go in and suffer it out. So he stepped awkwardly through the door, and sat down on the edge of a bench wholly inside. For fear of meeting curious glances, he slouched forward with elbows on his knees. The speaker began, and Tim could not help hearing. He thought he had never heard a better sermon. The man was an earnest improvement worker, and he talked to the young people with all the force of his conviction. He exhorted the offi. cers to labor with the wayward, negligent boy ; to be patient, and long-suffering with him who blindly neglected his opportunities, wasting his precious days and years in idleness, and that which was worse. "That's me!" was Tim's mental exclamation. He wrinkled up his forhead, till his eyebrows nearly met his straggling locks, to get a glimpse of the speaker, without changing his position. 580 IMPROVEMENT ERA Yes, sir; there he stood, looking straight at Tim, and "just going it for all he was worth," as Tim afterwards told. "Wonder who in thunder has told him about me;" mused Tim. "Bet you anything it's that Sue. She was introduced to him, this morning, in Sunday School, and he praised her for being such a good secretary; that pleased her vanity, and, to impress him still more I shouldn't wonder but she up and told him about her good-for- nothing brother. Hm — she's welcome to all the praise she can ! get. Sue is smart, and no mistake, and I — well, I s'pose I'm — ." He hated to finish; it was humiliating to have to own to him- self what he knew so well. The speaker said it was never too late to begin. Tim smiled wouldn't his chums laugh, if he should take ; it into his head to become sanctimonious? He was mighty glad when meeting was over; he sneaked out, and hurried home, though he had promised a certain Dick to give him a chance to win some- thing back from him at a game of . But somehow, he didn't feel like going up town again, and it also came to pass that he did the chores of his own free will, which called forth several doubtful compliments from Sue and the smaller children, and his father rewarded him by remarking that it was more than could be expected from such a lazy loiterer, who never earned his salt. Well, that big boy's under lip actually trembled, and he stared hard at his plate, for fear of winking down a tear; and he resolved that he would never move a hand at home again; he would go out herding as soon as he could. His mother asked him to go to meet- ing in the evening, but Tim was sullen, and after sitting around in the semi-dark kitchen for a while, he took his hat and sauntered up town. But now it happened that a man, who had also been to meet- ing in the afternoon, was coming from the opposite direction, and the two met. The other was William Harris, a sprightly man, lively in all his motions, full of zeal for the gospel, a regular rustler for the Young Men's Mutual Improvement Association. He had made up his mind that, afternoon to proceed a little out of the ordinary, if he could thereby save one wayward boy; and when he met Tim, something whispered "here's your man. Now bring some of your energy to bear on him." " HOW A SHIFTLESS BOY WAS STARTED. 581 "Hello, Tim," he called cheerily, and stopped, extending a hand. Tim took it somewhat slowly. "You're just the boy I want!" "That so?" "Yes, sir; I've been watching you a long time, and I've been wanting to have a talk with you." Tim expected a lecture. "Well, say on." "Well, it's this way, how would it suit you to learn the carpenter trade? That sheep-herding is good enough in a way, but it isn't what you want, Tim." Tim was surprised. No one had ever asked him what would suit him, in the way of work, and he simply gasped, "Me, a car- penter! Why I don't know how to handle a hammer, let 'lone any other tool. I don't think you could make anything out of me.'' "Why, of course I could, if you'd do your part. I used to look at your half-finished sleds and things, v/hen you were a child, and 1 used to think, 'that boy would make a first-rate carpenter, if he'd only stay with it. He's got a head on him.' "That so?" was nearly all that Tim could think of saying. "Why nobody ever thought I could do anything worth looking at." "That's because they didn't understand, you see. Your father wasn't a carpenter, but I am. Well what d' you say?" Tim felt strangely elated. Could it be possible that he wasn't altogether worthless, after all? If this man had seen some merit in him, he surely must possess it. His courage rose. He shifted from one foot to the other, bored his heel into the ground, and said a trifle huskily, "Why, yes, if you'll bother with me I I don't— mind trying, though I'm going on nineteen." "That's nothing. It's never too late. Come on a-ways, lets talk it over." Tim went home, and went to bed, whistling and feeling some- what more important than he had felt for a long time. He never said a word to anyone for fear of being laughed out of the notion. But two days later, he started at William Harris'. Well, now, you need not think that it wasn't up-hill work, both for Tim and Brother Harris. Tim had not practiced negligence so many years for nothing; it had become second nature to him, and it took a great deal of encouragement and flattery from Brother Harris, besides nearly all his patience; but, after many days, Tim 582 IMPROVEMENT ERA. became a good carpenter, and not only that, but, being an inmate of Brother Harris' house, where there was time for something be- sides routine all the time, Tim fell into the way of reading, and, after a while, he began to take interest in Young Men's Mutual Improvement work, and then, of course, he could not help im- proving in many other ways.