Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1858-07-02
miscellaneous.
THE LOST PURSE.

iib IDol tlNplAs
A friend related to me a simple story. not
long since, which ] think is worth telling
over. The parties of whom he spoke were
near by, and il was the presence Of the hero
that called the circumstance to mind.
bel Morton was youth of about seven
teen. His mother was a widow. and he an
only child. They lived in part of a small hut
in the outskirts Of the village, and were very
poor. During the long cold winter, the wi
dow had been quito sick, so that Abel had
been obliged to spend most OF his time with
her. The youth had never learned any trade,
as various circumstances had combined to
prevent his leaving home. He worked when
ever he could get work to do, and thus far
managed to find food enough to keep himself
and his mother alive, though they suffered
much with cold.
As tho spring opened, Abel tried to find
work. but was not successful He picked mp
a few odd Jobs, now and then, but the pro-
ceeds were barely sufficient to purchase
I enough Of the coarsest, cheapest food Cloth
ing they could not buy. and poor Abel began
to fear that he must beg suit Of clothes or
what was worse. leave his mother. But the
latter be could not do.
One afternoon he went into the village and
spent several hours in hunting for work, but
he found nothing 10 do. Some seemed to
turn away because he looked so ragged.
vhilo others said they never employed any
one outside Of their own households. Faint
and sick at heart, Abel bent his steps home
ward. He had left the village, and was turn
ing into the narrow lane that led TO his home,
when he detected something peculiar upon
the road side. lie picked it up and found it
to be a small knit purse. II was quite hea-
w, and the jingle Of the contents was too
sharp and clear for copper.
The poor youth did not stop TO open it
then. for it was already dusk, and he knew
that his mother would be anxious. So with
a strangely beating heart he hurried home
ward. He entered the little room where his
mother was sitting. and sank down in a chair.
"Alas no work the widow murmurcd,
as she saw the cloud upon the boys face
NO he replied, 81 tried all around, but
it was no use.'
"Neyer mind, Abel. God is good. We
shall not suffer as those do who have no trust
in Him
"But how docs He helm us. mother ask
ed Abel in a ialtering voice
"ln many ways. my son. lie has prcscrv-
ed us through many trials, and has given MS
hope and courage He has preserved to me
true and virtuous child, and has held us clear
from many sufcrings which afIlict our fell
lows. Look at Mrs. Tyndal see her with
all her wealth suffering tor,uros that | would
not suffer for worlds. see her only SON,
poor, miserable inebriate, and in prison for
drunken crime. For what would we OK
change our noble consciousness Of right and
honor
Abel made no reply There had been
something bearing down heavily upon his
soul-somothiug which lay in his pocket and
sent forth a serpent song of plenty. But the
load was removed. He drew the purse from
his pocket and laid it upon the table by his
side
''What is that :" said the widow, as she
heard the sharp clink of the coin.
"a pursc-l found it on the road.
Found it; Oh did you find Il d?'
''Yes, my mother In the road, Just at the
turn of our lane It lay in the foot path.
candle was lighted, and the purse emp
tied. 1t contained twenty silver half-dollars
"Ten dollars, whispered Abel perhaps
we can find who lost it.
"Isnt there some name on the purse"
asked his mother.
She took it as she spoke, and upon the in
side of the clasp, which was lined with red
John Thompson was one of the wcalthest
men in the place. He owned very large
farm aud besides supplying a large amount
Of milk to customers he raised large quand-
ties of garden sauce and fine fruit. which he
sent to "a neghborng city.
"Oh how easy he could spare it" whis-
pered Abel at would be no loss to him
THAT is so, in measure, my son, said
the widow. solemnly His would not be
the loss, but ,0e should lose--oh, how much
1--WE, mother -
"Aye, my boy. Should you keep this
should we keep it-where would our honor
be The next time you met Mr.. Thomp-
son. you'd fear to look him in the face. You
could not look at him with the happy consc-
business of your own innocence. There would
be faint upon your character sting in
your soul Oh, would you keep it, Abel p
mo, my mother, l would not No, no
I'll carry it back this very night
'You might wait until morning. for you
must get me some wood now"
The purse was laid away in place of safe
ty, and on the following morning Abel started
off bright and early and walked with light
and buoyant step, for he was satisfied with
the work he was doing.
Mr. Thompson lived in a fine large man
sion on the top of gentle eminence, at a
short distance from the road, and was sur
rounded by park Of noble trees. Abel took
his way up the neatly graveled walk, and met
the owner upon the broad piazza.
"Do you wish to see me, sir p asked the
host. lie was kind, generous looking man
stout and corpulent, with face full of health
and good nature.
"Yes, sir answered Abel promptly, at the
same time ascending the piazza. 81 found
purse last evening, and opening it we
found your name upon it,"
And who is DcP -
"My mother and me, sir"
"Then you did not think you needed the
money =
"Sir :" returned the youth, with cnquiring
gaze.
"Seeing that you bring the money to me, ]
suppose you had no use for it,.
''Use for it, sir - repeated Abel, at a loss
how to understand the man.
"Oh God knows we had use for it, but
not so much as we have for our honor and
truth
"Were you afraid to keep il pursued Mr..
Thompson, in the same peculiar tone.
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