Indiana American. [volume] (Brookville, Ind.) 1833-1861, 1854-03-31

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limbs, which lasted until death came
to his relief.
Two days after. the undertaken came
with the little coffin. and his little son.
n playmate Of the deceased boy, bring
ing the stools on which It was to stand
in the entry hall.
IL was with Henry" said the lad,
when he got into the water. Wewerc
playing down on the Long Wharf
Henry and Chas. Munford. and |; and
the tide was out very low; and there
was n beam running out from the
wharf; and Charles got out on II to get
4 FISH line and hook that hung over
where the water was deep, and tho first
thing we saw, he had slipped, and was
strugglingin the water. Henry threw
of his cap and jumped clear from the
wharf into the water, and. after great
deal Of hard work. got Charles out:
and they waded up through the mud
TO where the wharf was not so wet and
slippery; and then | helped them to
climb up theside. Charlestold Henry
not to say anything about V. for il he
did, his father would never let hun 90
near the water again.
Henry was very sorry, and all the
way home, he kept saying
"What will father say when he sees
me tonight? l wish we had not gone
TO the wharf
"Dear. brave boyl' exclaimed the
bereaved father; "and this was the
explanation which cruelty refused to
hearl" and hot and bitter tears rolled
down his cheeks.
Yes. that stern father now learned,
and for the first time, that which he
had treated with unwonted severity as
a fault, was but the impulse of gene
rous nature. which forgetful Of self,
had hazarded his life for another. 1t
was but the quick prompting of that
manly spirit which he himself had al
ways endeavorcd TO graft upon his
susceptible mind, and which. young as
he was. had already manifested itself
on more than one occasion.
Let me close this story in the very
words of that father, and let the lesson
sink deep into the heart of every parent
who shall peruse this sketch:
Everything that | now see, that
ever belonged 10 him. reminds me of
my lost boy. Yesterday | found some
rude pencil sketches which it was his
delight to make for the amusement of
of his younger brother. To-day in
rumaging an old closet, | came across
his boots, still covered with dock mud,
as when he last wore them. (You may
think it strange, but that which is usu-
ally so unsightly an object, is now
most precious TO me. And every
morning and evening. l pass the ground
where my sons voice rang the meriest
among his playmates.
"All these things speak to Eievividly
of his active life: but cannot--though
| have often tried cannot recall any
other expression Of the dear boys face
than that mute, mournful one with
which he turned from me on that
night | soharshly repulsed him. Thon
my heart bleeds afreshl
"0h, how careful should we all be. that
in our daily conduct toward those little
beings sent us by kind Providence,
we are not laying up for ourselves the
sources Of many u future bitter tearl
How cautious that neither by incon.
siderate nor cruel word or look, we un-
justly grieye their generous feelingl--
And how guardedly oughtwe tn weigh
every action against its motive, lest in
a moment Of excitement we be led to
meet out 10 the venial errors Of the
head the punishment due only to wlful
crimel
"Alasl perhaps few parents suspect
how often the fierce rebuke, the sud-
den blow is answered in their children
by the tears, not of passion nor ol
physical nor mental pain, but Of a low
ing, yet grieved or outraged nature"
/ will add no word TO reflections 5,
true--no corroborating incident TO al
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