The Perrysburg journal. [volume] (Perrysburg, Ohio) 1853-1861, 1855-02-03
TIAc Temptation,
Or Honesty the Best Policy.

easy SluihOcr lNe nl8nt hau been cold and
windy-such n4ht as December usually
brings among the hills Of New Hampshire
Williams b d was hard, and the cold wind
had found its way through many crack and
crevice in his ruirOus cottage but lie might
have slept if his mind had been at ease His
wife was a delicate woman; toll and ex-
posure had brought on a lingering illness,
and She lay all night moaning with pain. and
shivprng with cold. William arose. having
kndlcd a fire, went forth into the open air
The clouds were black and heavy, and the
wind swept forth in gusts through the
naked trees. Away in the distance the tops
Of the hills Were already white with snow
He had engaged days work on a neighbor
ing farm; but it was useless to go--the far
mer would not work that day; so he turned
away with a heavy step, and entered his
dwelling. The children were soon stirring
and the pale, suffering mother rose from her
couch to prepare the morning meal. A few
potatoes were boiled for the father and chill
dren. and cup of cruel prepared for herself
William Carter and his wife had seen
better days; but sickness and misfortune
the fraud Of some, and cruelty Of others, had
driven them forth from their pleasant home
which lie had spent the strength of his man
hood to purchase. and forced them to take
"Why can't you have some bread and
butter?' said little James, child six years
old, pushing away the potatoe which was
offered him. :" We used TO have bread and
pies, and don't want potatoes all the time"
An expression OF agony, passed over the
fathers face. Bitter feelings were rushing
through his heart---murmurings against
rovdence-repining at his lot--unbalief in
God.
Il would BEAR everything but this" mur-
INJURED he Z" can bear toll, humiliation and
want myself; but cannot see my children
pine for bread, and my wife shivering in this
miserable hovel! If there is a God why
does he suffer the rich 10 Cypress the poor,
times feel like taking justice into my own
hands, and with my own arm ayenging my
own cause
But the storm was soon over. Softencd
By the tender, hopeful words of his afflicted
wife, his bitterness of spirit passed away
His poverty and wrongs We're all forgotten,
in the memory Of his sinful anger aud mrr.
muring. The spirit of other days returned
the divine triumphed over the human; and
they bowed down before God, with the low
ing confidence of little children, casting all
their cares on his mighty arm, and commit
ting the future to his direction.
\ storm was evidently coming on outside.
Already the snow had began to fall; but
there was not wood enough to last two days,
and William must 90 to his neighbor and get
permission to cut few trees, or at least pick
up he limbs that were lying about. He
battoned up his coat and went out
Already a thin white drapery lay over
the bosom of the earth, twisted into grace
full knots and wreaths. He stepped on some
thing which moved beneath his feet-and
looking down he saw large pocket book,
half covered with snow. A sudden flash of
Joy dashed through his heart. Seizing it, he
turned his face from the wind to examine the
contents. There was a roll of bank notes,
which he uuroled and counted. His first
impulse was to secure the money and throw
the pocket-b book away. Was it not his
own? He had found it; had not Heaven
sent it In mercy as relief to his wants
an answer to his prayers? How much good
this money would do! Bread and shelter
TO his wife and little ones, whose cheeks
were growing pale with want-whose merry
smiles were changed TO anxious looks of
care, Thus he reasoned but conscience