The Union and eastern journal. [volume] (Biddeford [Me.]) 1854-1858, 1857-07-17
BIDDEFORD. MAINE; FRIDAY, JULY 1887:

table by godt industrious woman, who
rose before tho sun, to prepare the morning
meal and battle and dress the children. Her
fingers and feet have been Eery busy oil the
morning, and now she stops all other work
to see the laboring husband OF to his work,
and prepare his noon meal for Elm. The
bread and meat and large piece Of pie, the
gingerbread, the pickles, and perhaps some
dainty BIT which she has saved for the man
the loves are placed in the little tin pail,
one after another until 1t is full, and the
lid placed snugly on. When all is finished.
he gives kiss to the youngest, says a
pleasant good morning to his wife, takes
his pail in his hand, and away he goes.
From that time he disappears for the day.
No ono asks where he goes, and few know
lie swings the hammer. or pushes the planes.
Of practices some other iandicraft, In doors
or out Hc tolls all day for bread and cloth.
ing, for himself and family. His arms are
strong, his heart is courageous, and his mind
content. The rich roll by in their carriages,
but he cares not. Gay idlers attract his eye
for moment, but he dcspises them. When
noontime comes, and the long whistles sound
at the shops, he drops his work, and opens
his Il tie tin pail. Down goes the meat
with true zeal, and the bread tastes as sweet
~ as mama, for he has the health which Ia.
Dor brings. At last, he reaches the bottom,
and his eyes moisten as he sees there piece
Of fruit or some little delicacy, which the
kind wife has struggled into unknown to
him-somethlng which had cost her self.de-
NAL. Isn't that sweet meal? With his
appetite, and with the sweet associations
which embalm it, it is feast for the gods,
The whistle sounds again, and again the
strong hands and courageous heart are ut
work. The day is now upon the wanc, but
he grows little weary, for there is a warm
place in his heart that feeds the fire on
which willing labor depends. His eye is
lifted to the clock, hour after hour, during
pauses in his labor, and down falls the tardy
index, until, at last, the stroke Of 6 runs
out, and the whistle Of release for the day
gives its welcome blast. Before him are 10
or ii blessed hours Of rest; the rougfhands
are washed, the shirt sleaves rolled down
and buttoned, the coat put on, the little tin
pail taken from its hiding place, and he is
in the street again. Now we meet him.
Now the streets are full OF little tin pails.-
They are carried by men who have self.rc-
spect. who live manly lives. who earn, and
'owe not any man. The little tin pail rings
carelessly at their side, the celebration of q
days labor achieved-of hard money hard
ly won. a thousand children run to meet
the little tin pals, and beg the privileges Of
carrying them into houses and tenements
scattered all over the city. In 500 Of these,
the table is already set out, and ut the fire
sits the neatly dressed wife and the Kissing
teapot awaiting the husbands return
Behold the family group gathered around
the evening board Before those healthy
appetites how quickly the yiandi disappear.
And then, the coed wife washes the tea
things where they stand, and the little tin
pail is cleanly wiped out and polished of
for the next days service. Thus and thus
again, the days 60 round, with sound sweet
sleep between
"Toiling rejoicing
Onward Enough life he goes;
Each moaning sees some task begun,
Each evening sees its close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned nights repo.e"
God bless the luborer. God bless his com.
panion, the little tin pail. May it ever
more be as full Of love and all loves sweet
associations as it is flled each morn with
food, and may the food never fail -
Few understand how trn!y the little tin
pail is the index of heprOspcrl,y Of COM
munity. The more thickly we meet them
IN the streets, thcmorc prosperous do we
know that we are growing. Oh, let US feel
kindly towards the little TIN pals, and deal
kindly towards those who bare them. For
labor is the truly honorable thing among
men, There is not n neatly graded lawn,
pretty garden, or we'll trained tree that
docs not tell Of it.
1t builds magnificent cities, and builds navies,
and bridges rivers, and lays the railroad track
and forms every part of the locomotive
Where every steamer ploughs the waves, or
the long canal bears the nations inland
wealth wherever wheat fields wave and the
mill wheels turn, there labor is the conquer.
or and the king The newspaper wherever
it spreads its wings, bears with it the im.
press of toiling hands. Should not the Ia
borer be well fed? Should he not be we'll
housed? Should he not have the best wife
and the pret,iest children in the world p
Should not the man who produces all that
We have to eat and drink, and wear, be hon.
ored? To us, there is moro true poetry
about the laborer's life and lot than any
other man under heaven. 1t matters not
IN what calling man toils-if he toll man.
fully, honestly, efficiently and conten,ed -
The little tin pail should be badge Of no.
bllity everywhere, and in the "sood time
coming boys" it will be.-Spnngaeid Re.
publican.
- Some one lately sent the following
paragraph to Henry Ward Beecher:-