Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1866-06-27
The Little Tin Pals.


a passenger cannot walk through the
quictcst street in the city, without meet
ins men, each with little tin pail IN llls
hand. A, the bearer swings it q; MS
side, and raps it against his large buttons,
one can readily know shat it is empty
Where has he been? What has he been
doing! What is the pail for! One may
not be able to see anything in the pail
brs, after all, it has pleasant story in it.
Early in the morning that pail is filled.
Before the breakfast things are washed
and put away, it is placed upon the table
by good. industrious woman, who rose
before the sun, to prepare the morning
meal. and batle and dress the children
Her fingers and feet nave been very busy
all the .uornins, and now she stops al
osb.r work to sec the laboring husband
OF 10 his work, and prepare his moor
meal for him. The bread aud meat, the
large piece of pie, the gingerbread, tho
pickles, and perhaps some dainty 'bit
whic, sha has saved for the man she loves
are placed in the little tin pail, one after
another, until it is full, and the lid placed
snugly on. He, the laborer, stands by
and looks on. When all is finished, he
gives kiss to the youngest, says q
pleasant good morning to his Eits, takes
his pail in bis hand, and away be goes.
From that time he disappears for the
day. No one asks where be goes, and
few know. He swings the hammer, OF
pushes the plane. or practices some other
handicraft, in doors or ont, tie tolls all
day for bread and clothing, for himself
and family. His arms are strong, his
heart is courageous, and his mind content
The rich roll by in their carriages, but he
cares not. Gay idlers attract his eyes for
8 moment, but he dsspises them. When
noon time comes, and the long whistles
sound at the shops, he drops his work,
and opens his little tin pail. Down goes
Cbs meat with the true zest, and the bread
tastes ss sweetly as mamma, for ne has
the health which labor brings. At last,
he reaches the bottom, and his eyes mois-
ten as he sees there piece of fruit or
some little deIicacy, which the kind wife
had smugglsd in unknown to him-some,
thing which had cost her self.denial. Isn't
that sweet meal? With his appetite,
end with the sweet associations which
embalns it, it is a feast for the gods.
The whistle sounds again, and again
the strong hands aud courageous heart
are at work. The day is now upon the
wane, but he grows little weary, for there
is o warm place in his heart tha. feeds
the fire on which willing labor depends.
His eye is lifted to the clock, hour after
hosy, during pausesin his labor, and down
fails the tardy index, until, ct last. the
stroke Of six runs out, and the whistle OF
release for the day gives its welcome
blast. Before him Gre twelve or fourteen
blessed hours Of rest! the rough hands
are washed. the shirt sleeves rolled down
and buttoncd, the coat put on, the little
tin pail taken from its hiding place and
he is In the street again. Now we meet
him. Now the streets are full of little
tin pals. They are carried by men who
have self.respect, who live manly lives,
who earn, and owe not any man, The
little tin pail rings carelessIy at their
side, The celebration of days labor
nchieved-of hard money hardly won.
A thousand children run to meet the lit
tie tin pals, end beg the privilege of car
Yying them iato houses and tspsments
scattered all over the city. In FIVE hun
dred of these, the table is already set out,
and at the fire sits the neatly dressed wife
and the Kissing teapot awaiting the hus-
bands return. Behold the family group
gathered around the evening board! Be-
fore those healthy appetites how quickly
the yiands disappear And then the
good wife washes the tea things where they
stand, and the little tin pail is cleanly
wiped out and polished off for the next
days service. Thus, and thus again, the
days go round, with sound, sweet sleep
between.
"Toiling-rejoicing-
Onward through life he goes:
Each morning sees some task begun,
Each evening sees its close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned nights rspose."
God bless the laborer God bless his
companion, the little tin pail. May it
evermore be ss full of love and all loves
sweet associations rs it is filled each morn
with food, and may the food never fail |!
Few understand how truly the little tin
pail is the index of the prosperity of q
community. The more thickly we meet
them in the streets, the more prosperous
do we know that We are growing. Oh,
let US feel kindly tovsrfs the little tin
psils, and deal kindly towards those who
bear them. For labor ia the truly hon.
orable thing among men. There Is not @
neatly.graded lawn, pretty garden, or a
welrtrained tree, that does not tell of it.
1t builds magnificent cities, and builds
navies, and bridges, rivers, and lays the
railroad track. end forms every part of
The locomotive. Wherever a steamer
plows the waves, or the long canal bears
the nations inland wealth; wherever
wheat fields wave and the mill wheels
turn, there labor is the conqueror and
the king. The news paper, wherever it
spreads its wings, bears with it the i'm.
press of toiling hands. Should not the
laborer be well-fed? Should he not be
we'll housed2 Should he not have the
best wife and the prettiest children in the
world? Should not the man who pro.
duees ell that we have to eat and drink,
and wear, be honored? To Us there is
more true postry sbout the laborer's life
and lot than any other mans under heaven.
lie mattera. not In what calling a man