Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1860-05-12

a tract, the chance OF converting them
would be much greater.
They walked home together, Friday evening. the
school ma'am and the little ragged, bare footed,
and almost hatless pupil. She made the way
pleasant to him, talking to him of the beautiful
world that they lived in, and pointing out the va
rioua interesting things that were all about them
the old gray mountains in the distance, with tho
purple shadows of evening dropping over them
. the green fields beside them the dim forest with
its cathedral aisles, stretching far into the distance;
the blooming orchards, with their snowy promises;
the little 6rooklet with its singing waves the
brown and golden birds filling the scented air with
their golden notes and lastly, the scarlet west,
with the amber currents Of sunshine playing over
it in gorgeous tides. And when she knew his
heart was interested, and full of unuttcrable feel
ing, she said quietly, What a good God to place
us in a world so fair. Would you not like to know
r something more about him Willie Would you
r not like to study that holy book of His, which he
{ has given mankind, to show them the way to
heaven ?"
20, yes, ma'am,' and the boy spoke deycutly.
9 i thought you would, and so l asked you. l
D am going to have a class in the Sunday School,
and shall open it next Sunday. You will come,
Willie, and be one Of my scholars.'
I'D like to, ma'am. Then he glanced at his
bare feet and his ragged clothes, and sighed, as he
added, but l don't see how l can. These are all
the clothes ] have to wear
I've thought Of that Willie, and if you will come
tomorrow to the DeacOn's and let me have your
jacket awhile, IN mend it up for you, and here's
e a quarter I'll give you to go to the store and buy
a new hat. You can get a new straw one for that,
!, can't you p
: %, yes. Dear me how good you are to me, l
| don't see what makes you so. Everybody else
e Irets and seolds at me. and says III go to the pen.
] %itentiary yet, Pm SO bad
1 love you, Willie, and that is Why I treat you
+ as | do. An orphan myself l can feel for your
t lonely life. Heaven only Knows what l might have
u been, had not good friends cared for me when my
father and mother died and left me alone in the
world. Willie, I've great hopes Of you. You are
capable Of making yourself a good name in the
world. You will do it too, | know you will. Don't
Q you believe it ?'-snd she looked hopefully into
l his eyes.
4 want to 0, il I only could III try. I'll
stuGy hard every day, and I'll go to Sunday School
( every Sunday. And if l do grow up good, I'll lay
it ali to you, for no one else ever cared for me.
i They even grudge me my %victuals. o, but I've
seen hard times,',' and tears trickled down his
K cheeks.
Don't think of them, Willie. Look forward
There is a sunny future in store for you. Good
K night. Don't forget the Jacket
\ What under the sun have you got
c in your hands Miss Merton p said Mrs. Gray
the next morning, as the school ma'am entered
u the kitchen.
Why, it's Willie's jacket. I've promised tC
& mend it for him so that be can 20 toSunday Schoo
tomorrow, and I've come to beg some patches
Mercy on me, you can never mend that ragged
thing
20, yes, l can. Where can I find some patch
IS es p
Why, there's lots of them in the loft over thu
woodshed. | store them up there for carpet rag
IL all through the winter, and in the spring take then
down and wash them up and sort them over bu
K dear me, you never can do anything with that OLE
thing. .
You'll see,' was the cl ,eerful response, and tn
y school ma'am mounted up the ladder 20 the loft
l and selected some suitable patches. Sitting dow
by the window, she ripped up both sleeves abov
III the elbow, cut off rags and pieced them down, sew
III ed up the seams again, and put in fresh lining an,
III made new cuffs. Then she cut off the torn but
ton holes, pieced out the sides and made new one
IT, and darned here and there, till there was not
&c single hole.
Has the school ma'am turned tailoress,' sal
% the Deacon, as he came in to dinner, what wage
a' do you make2
%, good ones, l tell you. Amt a good han
IN at patching p and she held up the neatly mende
sy jacket. And then before she could speak furtht
u.s. Mrs. Gray told the Deacon whose it was and no
srs it il looked when she brought it in.
1T you must have some hopes of the boy. Mi
Merton, or you would not take so much pail
au' with him.
hn' 4 have great hopes of him. Deacon Gray. Ar
Csc she related the experience Of the week.
the 'Ah, but one swallow does not make q sui
you mer.'
oo' Il know it, Deacon, but then one swallow is
is harbinger of summer. 1t gives us a hope of see
AM time and harvest. 1t tells US there is warm weat
D q or somewhere. Deacon, l have studied the b
this week, and l am satisfied that he only nee
We kind treatment and encouragement 70 place b
for obovo tho ovsroo If nor n e No, wor
put only lot him come here now. pl ansUer for
hor good conduct
The Deacon hesitated, but Miss Merton plet
nay and eloquenily too, for she felt that a SOULS sal
urn lion lov in tho onsvsr sbo sbo,ld rooo;uo % ;
hooi proposition.
10 You'd make q good preacher, Miss Merton "a
10 he drew his hand over bis eyes. It's hard resi-
ing you. In fact guess I'll have to yield.
blue mothers willing, he may come tonight.
Will You'll never repent this good deed, Deac
pee never, never. The boy must be good in such
ls Of home as this SO neat, quiet and we'll arrang
I'M III answer for him.
laid Where are those pants l laid of last we
der wife those grey ones? They were pretty G,
o OF yes--only thin about the seat and out at the kne
all guess between you, you could get the boy a
how cent suit Of clothes out Of them
writ % yes, indeed, father, / could cut them o
the and t,rn TN frnnLn 10 dc knnL " i.LaaA.