A successful business man said: "One day, when I was a lad, a party of boys and girls were going to a distant pasture to pick whortleberries. I wanted to go with them, but was fearful that my father would not let me. When I told him what was going on, and he at once gave me permission to go with them, I could hardly contain myself for joy, and rushed into the kitchen and got a big basket, and asked mother for a luncheon. I had the basket on my arm, and was just going out of the gate, when my father called me back. He took hold of my hand, and said in a very gentle voice, ‘Joseph what are you going for, to pick berries or to play?'

‘To pick berries,' I replied.

“'Then, Joseph, I want to tell you one thing. It is this: When you find a pretty good bush, do not leave it to find a better one. The other boys and girls will run about, picking a little here and a little there, wasting a great deal of time, and not getting many berries. If you do as they do, you will come home with an empty basket. If you want berries, stick to your bush.'"

I went with the party, and we had a capital time.

But it was just as my father said. No sooner had one found a good bush than he called all the rest, and they left their several places, and ran off to the new-found treasure. Not content more than a minute or two in one place, they rambled over the whole pasture, got very tired, and at night had very few berries. My father's words kept ringing in my ears, and I stuck to ‘-my bush.' When I had done with one, I found another, and finished that; then I took another. When night came, I had a large basketful of nice berries, more than all the others put together, and was not half so tired as they were. I went home happy. But when I entered, I found my father had been taken ill. He looked at my basketful of ripe black berries, and said, 'Well done, Joseph. Was it not just as I told you? Always stick to your bush.'

"He died a few days after, and I had to make my own way in the world as best I could. But my father's words sunk deep into my mind, and I never forgot the experience of the whortleberry party;

I stuck to my bush. When I had a fair place and was doing tolerably well, I did not leave it and spend weeks and months in finding one a little better. When other young men said, 'Come with us, and we will make a fortune in a few weeks, I shook my head, and 'stuck to my bush.' Presently my employers offered to take me into business with them. I stayed with the old house until the principals died, and then I took their place. The habit of sticking to my business led people to trust me, and gave me a character. I owe all I have and am to this motto: “Stick to your bush."