The Portland daily press., 1865-03-23
}MaEH Jerry Fay.

It was winter afternoon in school, the
school on Myrtle Hill, where Jerry Fay was
learning strange things out OF books. 1t was
q pleasant school-ruom. The sun came in
brightly through the large windows, and some
OF the children who had nothing to do watch
ed the NOTES that danced in the long beams
Of sunlight that slanted down the room. There
were beautiful pictures on the blackboards-
flowers, and birds, and trees here an old mill
with its Idle wheel, and there an ivy-grown
tower with the rocks sailing round the crurh-
? It was the writing hour, and the room was
very still. Little heads were bent over the
copy-books, little clumsy fingers were twisting
strangely around the pens that would now
aud then make big blot and many an odd
character on the white page. Aud this was
Jerrys school-room, but he was not there,
and the teacher said to herself that Jerry was
playing truant again, and she wondered what
she should do with him. While she was think
ing about it, she was summoned to the door.
There she found Jerry, in charge of police
officer, whose especial business was picking
up truants. He had come to report hin. to
the teacher, and then take him away to the
'1ockup."
Poor Jerry. 1t was enough TO make ones
heart ache to see him. His blue eyes were
sunken, and his face had sharp, white look,
as though the warmth was all frozen out OF
his veins. One could not help seeing at first
sight that the child had not enough to eat
His clothes were thin and torn, and his bear
toes crept from the miserable shoes that had
hard work to stay on his FROST bitten feet.
Il must take this boy to the lookup" said
the officer, after talking few minutes with
the teacher. @ Ai oaa9
Jerry's white face grew winter, and he
ciasped his hands in utter distress. 20, don't,
don't take me there !" he said, and the tears
rolled down his face. II never had anybody
to tell me how to be good, Inever had any
bringing up, nobody ever cared for mel o!
teacherl I'D like to be good like other boys,
but nobody ever showed me how"
Poor boy it was all too true. Nobody had
tried to teach him to be good. Nobody cared
tor him, as he said. 4et asi5
His father was dead, and his mother was d
wretched, heaItless woman, who would have
been glad to get rid OF him at any time, no
matter how. When the nights were bitter
cold she would lock the door while Jerry was
out, and he would be obliged to wander With
out shelter till morning came. She had even
accused him of crime, in hopes OF getting him
imprisoned, but her plans tailed. Think OF it
A mother wishing to imprison an innocent
child. And SO, with blows plenty, and food
scarce, SO scarce that you could see the hunger
written all over his face and staring from bis
blue eyes, what wonder that Jerry was not al
ways good; that he found evil associates, and
was following in their ways?
There were tears In the teachers eyes as she
listened to the boys piteous appeal, and even
the hardy policeman was touched. Warning
him that another time he would not escape,
ne permitted him to go back to the school
room. He never played truant again. but il
not his life sad one? Nobody TO love him.
nobody, as he says bring him up,' nobody
to teach him to be good like other hogs nohodD
to care for him. And this is true story.