Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1852-05-20

Read over the above maxims at leas
once week Sunday mighty
sc I'm n Little Bound Boy Now.'
by MRS. NJ. A. DESIsoN.
We do not know when we have read
anything SO touching as the subjoined in.
cident:
"The Philadelphia Sun relates that as
one Of the police officers Of that city was
proceeding along the sidewalk on Sunday
afternoon, whilst the snow was falling
thick and the wind blowing in eddying
gusts and piercing cold, the sobs of a
child attracted his attention. lie soon
found a poor little boy in an alley stand.
ing up TO his middle in the snow, and
benumbed with the cold. The little fel.
low told the officer that he had been sent
out to clear away the snow from the alley.
eco in the house." said the officer, "and
tell your mother that she might be
ashamed of herself" "My mother" re-.
piled the boy, Z" is dead. Tin little bound
boy nor."
Poor little orphan! No kind mother
would have sent her own child to expose
life and health, even to earn penny with
which to buy bread; and no human heart
bade the wretched boy go forth in such
weather and such a storm. The condi.
ton of friendless, motherless little one,
is to our mind, the most deplorable on
earth, and the being who could ll.use or
neglect All orphan must assuredly suffer
either in this world or in the future.
"I'm a little bound boy now," alas!
how mournful eloquent those few words:
/" Pm little bound boy now." Did he
remember the time when the light of
mothers love was continually sunshine to
him! when he was the star OF her exis-
tence, when his little lips wreath in smiles,
were pressed again and again by her lips,
and his eyes were mirrors for her love-
beaming face! Did he remember the
time when place on her bosom on which
to pillow his head was recompense for all
his troubles, when her sweet voice soothed
hin to slgmbsEa iap& tbs aau.As ai ha=
quietudes! Then doubly heartrending
the thought and the feeling that he is "a
little bound boy now he cannot leap
over the door steps as Of yore, and fear
lessly cling to the hand of his mother;
no! he moves with a cringing tread with.
in the strangers domicile; he starts at
the smallest request, for the tones of the
stranger are cold and icy; there is no
music in them as there used to be in the
voice of his mother, the sweet request is
changed to the peremptory command,
and he flies over the pavement to execute
the tyrannical order, as if every brick
were live coal beneath his feet.
Perhaps he remembers the time when
he hurried from school happy but hungry,
and sure of the welcome slice Of good,
sweet bread, but now when he is almost
starving, he dares not ask with the trust
ing familiarity of one who knows his
every reasonable wish will be supplied.
"My mother is dead" oh! the utter
desolatiou of spirit which child must
experience on beholding the death cold
brow of an only, darling parent. lie
stood perhaps by her bedside, and felt the
heavy pressure of her hand; heard her
wild prayer, clung to her cold, lifeless
clay. Then, it may be said, he was con.
signed to the house of charity, from thence
he was bound out, where the milk of hu.
man kindness flowed not through human
channels for him: bound out; to toll
where the children Of his own age in the
same family, wero sheltered from the
rough winds Of heaven, and cared for SO
tenderly."
The vision Of that desolate child, stand
ing in the drifted snow heaps, the tears
freezing on his cheeks, his poor hands red
and numb, his limbs all trembling, has
often since obtruded itself on our vision !;
and that plaintive wall, "l'm little bound
boy now" oh! how does its searching
pathos penetrate our inmost soul. We
look sometimes upon the rosy cheeks and
sparkling eyes of those near and dear to
US, and picture such u fate for them; and
the blood shrinks back to our heart.
What! they sleep in the broken garret
where the snow Sits through9 they feel
the hard hand of anger upon their culver
ing flesh they pass long, terrible days,
and dark, lonely nights, and no sweet kiss
dimple their cheeks, no soft, loving arms
enfold them, no heart beat close to theirs
And vet, we shudder while we write, such
is the fate of thousands, once carefully
reared as they; no older in years, but in
bitter experience aged, their soul scared,
bIackened by unkindness; the elements
of hatred burnt into their very hearts by
the cruel taunt, and the unfeeling sneer
Be careful ye who have charge of such
unfortunates; be kind to them for the
sake of your own dependant offsprings
for in Gods mysterious providence, they
may in future years be laid in the grave
leaving their little ones to heartless chari
ties.
"rm a little bound boy;" the simple
words need not gesture, nor tear, mol
groans, to give them pathos; no none O
these. They look sorrowful, and speak
volumes by their brevity' Bound-te