Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1857-06-08
THE LITTLE TIN PALS.

At about six o'clock in the afternoon. n mas
senger cannot walk through the quietest street
In the city without meeting men, each with A
little tin pail in his hand. As the bearer swings
IL at MS SIDE, and raps it against his large but
tons, one can readily know that it is empty.
Where has he been9 What has he been doing?
What Is the pail for? One may not be able to
see anything in the pail, but, after all, it has
a pleasant story in it. Eearly in the morning,
that pail ia filed. Before the breakfast things
are washed and put away, it is placed upon
the table by good Industrious woman, who
rose before the sun, TO prepare the morning
meal, and bathe and dress the children. Her
fingers and feet have been very busy all the
morning, and now she stops all other work to
see the lsbOriDg husband of to his work, and
prepare his noon meal for him. The bread and
meat, the large piece Of pie, the ginger bread.
the pickles, and perhaps some dainty bit which
she has saved for the man she loves are placed
in the little tin pail one after another until it
Is full, and the lid placed snugly on. He, the
laborer, stands by and looks on. When all is
finished, be 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 one asks whore he goes, and few know. He
swings the hammer, or pushes the plane, or
practices some other handicraft in doors or out.
lie tolls all day for bread and clothing for him
self and family. His arms are strong, his
heart courageous, and his mind content The
rich roll by in their carriages, but he cares not
Gay idlers attract his eyes for a moment, but
be deSpises them. When nOOntime comes, and
the long whistles sound at the shops, he drops
his work, and opens his little tin pail. Down
goes the meat with tho true Zest, and the bread
tastes as sweetly as mama, for he has the
health which labor brings. At last he reaches
the bottom, and his eyes mOisten as he sees
there piece Of fruit or some little delicacy
Ls,A L, III s.. L..
TO him-something which had cost her seIf-de-
nial. Isn't that a sweet meal2 With his ap-
petite, and with the sweet associations which
embalm it, it is a feast for the gods.
Tic whistle sounds again, and again the
strong hands and courageous heart are at work
The day is now upon the wane, but ho 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 six runs out, and the whistle Of re-
lease for the day gives its welcome blast. Be-
fore him are twelve or fourteen blessed hours
Of rest the rough hands are washed, the shirt
sleeves 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
pals They are carried by men who have self
respect, who live manly lives, who earn, and
80 owe not any man" The little tin pail rings
carelessly at their side. the celebration of a
days labor achieved-of hard money hardly
won. A thousand children run to meet the
little tin pals, and beg the privileges of carry
ing them into houses and tenements scattered
all over the city. In FIVE hundred of these the
the table Is already set out, and at the FIRE sits
the neatly-dressed wife, and the Kissing teapot
awaiting the husbands return. Behold the
family group gathered around the evening
krnw DAkl -
quickly the yiands disappear. And then the
good wife washes the tea things where they
stand, and the little tin pail is cleanly wiped
out and polished Offfor the next days service
Thus, and thus again, the days go round, with
sound sweet sleep between.
TolEng-rejoic n borrowing
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begun,
Each evening sees 10 close
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a nights repOse -
God bless the laborerl God bless his COM
Panion, the little tin pail May it eyermore be
As full OF love and all loves sweet associations
as il is filed each morn with food, and may the
food never fail Few understand how truly
the little tin pail is the index of the prosperity
OF a community. The more thiekly we meet
them In the streets, the more prosperous do we
know that we are growing Oh let us feel kind
ly toward the little tin pals, and deal kindly
only honorable thing among men. There is
not graded lawn, pretty garden, or a we'll
trained tree, that does not tell Of it.
1t builds magnificent cities, and builds ma
Vles, and bridges rivers, and lays the railroad
tract, and forms every part Of the locomotive.
Wherever a steamer plOughs the waves, or the
long canal bears the nations inland wealth.
wherever wheat fields wave and mill wheels
turn, there labor is the cOnqueror and the king
The newspaper, wherever it spreads its wings,
bears with it the impress Of toiling hands.
Should he not have the besJ wife and the pret-
test children in the world2 Should not the
man who produces all that we have to eat and
drink and wear be honOred! To us, there is
more true poetry about the laborer's life and
lot, than any other mans under heaven 1t
matters not In what calling man toils-if he
toll manfully, honestly, efficiently, and con-
tented. The little tin pail should be badge
Of nobility everywhere, and in the good time
coming, boys" it will be.