The star of the north. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1849-1866, 1858-03-31
THE STOLEN KNIFE.

THE MULLEN kNltE.
Many years ago, when.a boy Of seven or
eight years iheie was 5saFthng which l
longed for more than anything else, and
which imagined would make me supreme
ly happy. 1t was jaeE-knife. Then l
would not be obliged 10 borrow fathers ev-
cry time wished to cut string or stick, but
could white whenever choose, and when.
ever pleased. Dreams of knives, bows
and arrows, boats, &c, all manufactured
with the aid of that shining blade, haunted
me by day and night.
1t was beautiful morning in June, that
my father called me, and gave me leave, if
wished TO go with him TO the store. was
delighted, and taking his hand, we started.
The birds sang sweetly on every bush, and
everything looked so gay and beautiful, that
my heart iairly leaped for joy. After our
arrival at the village, and while my father
was occupied in purchasing some articles
in remote part of the store, my attention
was drawn to man who was asking the
price of various jack-knives which lay on
the counter. AS this was a very interesting
subject 10 me, approached, intending only
to look at them. picked one up, opened
it, examined it, tried the springs, felt the
edge of the blades with my thumb, and
thought could never cease admiring their
polished surface. Oh if it were only mine,
thought |, how happy should be Just at
this moment happening to look up, l saw
that the merchant had gone to change bill
for his customer, and no one was observing
me. For fear that might be tempted to do
wrong, started TO replace the knife on the
counter, but an evil spirit whispered, "Put
1t in your pocket; quickw Without stop.
ping 10 think of the crime or its consequen.
ces, hnrriedly slipped it into my pocket,
and as did so. fels e.blusa<o Oh shame bur.
ming on my cheek; but the store was rather
dark, and no one noticed it, nor did the
merchant miss the knife
We soon started for home, my father Civ.
ing me parcel TO carry. AS we walked
along, my thoughts continually rested on
the knife, and kept my hand in my pocket
all the time from sort of guilty fear that il
would be seen. This, together with carrying
the bundle in my other hand, made it diff
cult for me 10 keep pace with my father
He noticed it and gave me lecture about
walking with my hands in my pockets.
All! how different were my thoughts then,
from what they were when passing the same
scenes few hours before. The song of
the birds seemed joyous no longer, but sad
and sorrowful, as if chidng me for my wick
ed act. | could not look my father in The
face, for had been hoedtess~-Hisp precepts,
broken one of Gods commandments, and
become adh,f AS these thoughts passed
through my mind, I could hardly help cry
ing, but concealed my feelings, and tried 10
think of the good times would have with
my knife. | could hardly say anything on
my way home, and my father thinking I
was either tired or sick, kindly took my
burden, and spoke soothingly to me, his
guilty son. No sooner did we reach home,
than rereated to a safe place, behind the
house, 10 try the stolen knife had picked
up stick, and was whiting it, perfectly
delighted with the sharp blade, (which gil.
ded through the wood almost of itself, when
suddenly heard the deep, sudden voice OF
my father, calling me by Hssue, and on look
ing up, saw him al the window directly over
my head, gazing down very sorrowfully at
me. The stick dropped from my hand,
and with the knife clasped III the other,
proceedednto the house. saw by his looks
that my father had OWNED ALL found him
sitting in his arm chair, looking very pale,
walked directly to his side, and in a low
! calm voice, he asked me where got the
knife. His gentle manner and kind tone
went to my heart, and burst into tears
AS soon as my voice would allow me,
made full confession. He did not fog me
as some fathers would have done, but rep.
rimanded me in such manner, that, while
| felt truly penitent for the deed loved him
more than ever, and promised never, never
TO do the like again. In my fathers com.
pany, l then returned TO the store, and ON
my knees begged the merchants pardon,
and promised never again 10 take what was
not my own.
My father is long since dead and never
do think of my first theft, without blessing
the memory of him whose And teachings
and gentle corrections have made it, thus
far in my life and forever, my last,-Moore's
Rural NeiO Yorker.