The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1864-11-18
Wisteaaneous.
THE LOST PURSE.

A friend related to me simple story, not
long since, which | think is worth telling
over. The parties Of whom he spoke were
near by, and il was the hero that called the
circumstances to mind.
Abel Morton was youth of about seven.
teen. His mother was widow, and he an
only child. They lived in part Of u small
hut in the outskirts of the village. and were
very poor. Daring the long. cold winter.
the widow had been quite 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
whenever he could get work tn do, and thus
far managed to find food enough to keep him
self and mother alive, though they suffered
much with cold.
As the spring opened, Abel tried to find
work but was not successful. lie picked up
few odd job, now aud then, but the pro-
ceeds were barely sufficient TO purchase
the coarsest, cheapest food. Clothing they
could not buy, and poor Abel began to fear
that he must beg u suit Of clothes. or. what
was worse. leave his mother. But tho latter
he could not do.
and spent several hours in hunting for work.
but no found nothing to do. Some seemed
TO turn him away because he looked so rag.
ged, while Others said they never employed
any one outside Of thoir own households.
Faint and sick ut heart, Abel bent his steps
homeward. lie lett the village, and was
turning into the narrow lane that led TO his
home, when he detected something peculiar
uron the road side. lie picked itup and
found il To be small knit purse. Ii was
quite heavy. and the jingle OF the contents
was too sharp and clear for copper.
The poor youth did not stop to open it
then, for IL was already dusk, and he knew
tina, his mother would be anxious. 81 with
a strangely heating heart, he hurried home.
ward. lie entered the little room where his
mother was sitting. and sank down in chair.
"Alas no work." the widow murmured,
as she saw the cloud upon the boys face.
"No" no replied 81 tried all round, but
il was no use.
"Ncycr mind, Abel. God is good. We
shall not suiier us those do who have no trust
in Him."
"But how does he help us, mOthcr!" asked
Abel in faltering voice.
..ln many ways, my son. lie has prcserv'
cd us through many trials, and has given US
hone aud courage. He has preserved TO me
a true and yirtuous child, and has held us
clear from many sufftrings which aillict our
fellows. Look a, Mrs. Tyndal; secher with
all her wealth, suffering torturcs that |
would not suffer for worlds. See her only
son. n poor. miserable inebriate, and in pris-
ON for a drunken crime, Forwhat would we
exchange our noble consciousness OF right and
honor p
Abel made no reply. There had been
something bearing down heavily upon his
soul-somc,hing which lay in his pocket and
seut forth serpent song Of plenty. But the
load was removed. lie drew the purse from
his pocket and laid it upon ;he table by his
sidc.
.what Is that?" said the widow. rs she
heard the sharp clink Of the coin.
"A purse-I found il on the road"
"Foand it? o did you ind it?'
eyes. nv mother. In the road, just Mt
the turn OF our lane. II lay in the foot.
path"
"A candle was lighted and the purse emp
tied. II contained twenty silver hall dollars.
..Ten dollars" whispered Abel. Perhaps
We can fnd who lost it."
.'lsn't there some name on the purse ~
asked his mother. i. r.r d. ..--- ,...
She took !, as she spoke, and upon tho in.
side Of tho clasp. which was lined with red
morocco. che read, 'John Thompson"
John Thompson was one Of the wealthiest
men in the place. lie owned very large
farm, and. besides supplying large amount
of milk to customers. he raised large quanti-
ties OF garden sauce and hne ruit' which no
sent to ncighboring city:
"Ob. how easily he could spare II !" whis.
nered Abel. Il would be no loss to him. /"
..That 10 50 in measure, my son. said
the widow. solemuly. "liis would not Dc
the ioss. bat ,se should losc-oh. how much.
.swe. mother 2"
"Ah, my hoy. "Should you keep this
should We keep it-wherc would orr honor
be? The next time you met MIR. Thompson.