Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1865-05-17
INTELLECT IN RAGS ::
Or, 0pulence Rebuked.

Two proud children were tripping along
the streets of Boston, one sunshiny day, on
their way to school, chatting as they went,
and apparently enjoying themselves right
merrliy.
A late rain had given coating of mud to
the red brick side walks. so the children strl-
ded dalntily; the older one, slight and del
icately formed girl, with a merry dark eye
and full rich rlnglets, carefully lifting her
soft shining garments, that they might not
be soiled by contact with the wet earth
And now there way was through dark
alley, where the sunbeams grew sickly, and
paled into dimness, as they touched the
heavy and tainted atmosphere, though per-
chance long times between they melted into
the shadows upon the golden hairs of some
poverty stricken infant, for many sat in the
doorways Of that comfortless city lane
The boy and girl moved slowly onward,
with their white brows bent downward, and
their bright eyes searching for the hidden
pavestOnes as If unconscious of everything
else yet, the flush on their smooth and
dimpled cheeks, and the quick laugh at the
lidicrous figures that fitted across their
pathway ever and anon, plainly told that
they were lot oblivious of the surroundings
and revealed their naughty and aristocratic
disposition.
Don't you hate such dirty places, Ju
lia?" said the boy as few drops, not of
crystal, stained the glossness of his rich at
tire don you wish that the school was at
the other eud of the lane?''
1t s perfectly horrible" answered the
bautiful creature, with light laugh; dear
do look at these creatures they can have
no sensibiiity of refinement how dirty, how
contemplate they are-well, thank goodness
that we were born rich
Stop Julia, hush yonder is something
to excite our laughter, warrant you-ha
ha! boy larger than myself, and he APP
pears to be picking out the letters on that
scrap of paper-bah -
Stand still, Arthur, do, and let us hear
him; we can wait a minute.
A few PAGES before them sat a boy of some
thirteen summers hatless, shoeless, and
with very scanty frock and trousers; the lat
ter mass of patches. His hair, tangled
and thick, hung over his downcast eyes;
and his hands, stained rough with labor,
grasped a little torn piece of newspaper,
which he evidently picked out of the mud.
So absorbed was he in his task that he did
not notice the fair and high bred young
strangers who stood regarding him with
thoughtless but subdued mirth.
Hark the boy, leaning his brown face on
his clenched hands, murmurs unconsclously
aloud 'b-ie-n-no, not that yes, no,
"a deep drawn sigh, then again-''b- AN
then again a long pause-''oh dear, have
/ forgotten; [ never shall be able to read
like Barney
As the poor child exclaiming thus, lifting
his eyes s0rrowfully from the tattered bit of
printing, his gaze fell upon the listeners,
whose beautiful lips curled with scornful
smile A flash of crimson started to his
swarthy cheeks, mounting to the tops OF his
forehead, as he threw off the mass of tangled
curls, and his bold black eyes fell before their
familiar stare.
''Ha! ha p said the richly clad youth,
carelessly. I've got a brother only five
years old, at home, who can read better than
that. A big boy like you ought at least TO
know your letters. Why don't you go to
school?''
ITO SCHOOL, echoed Julia, sneeringly,
''do you suppose he would get into decent
school? His name ought to be patchwork;
mock pity, ''our stable boy dresses better
than that. y
The lad, at her tone of commlseration,
sprang to his feet, and bent on the brother
and sister such glance of defiance, ,indlgna-
ton and scorn that they ipstinctively hurried
onward though the girl turned once more
mockingly around, end gave utterance to a
slight bantering laugh.
Still the poor lad stood-wounded to the
hearts core-still he gazed after them, his
full lips quivering with his mental anguish,
his black eye, through the misty drops that
hurg tremblingly on his lids, flashing fire,
as though they would scathe and blast the
selfish pride of those thoughtless children
then turning, he hurried up three bro,
ken steps into dim entry. flew along dark
passage and entering cheerless room flung
himself upon the uneven floor, and wept
burning tears of grief and shame.
The parlors of a stately mansion on bea-
con street Boston, We're brilliantly iilumlna-
ted The owner of the princely tenements
had issued cards for fashionable scrtie;
the hour had arrived, the guests were as
sembling. -, T..
The rich and the great were there, but