The Manchester journal. [volume] (Manchester, Vt.) 1861-current, 1867-07-23
Lead us not into Temptation. :,

Lead us not into Temptation.
1t was a bright autumn morning,
clothed in silyery mists and soft, sleepy
shunshine. | was sitting by the win
dow of my friond's home, a pleasant
yine-shaded home, though the aust and
heat and noise Of the city were all about
us.
Little pattering feet came down the
hall, and little white figure glided in
to the room and kneeling by my side,
said, please, Auntie, hear me say my
prayer this morning" 1t was the
Lords prayer, that prayer of all others
sweetest from childish lips.
LEAD us not into temptation. -
here the hsping voice stopped, and the
blue eyes opened wide upon my face as
she said softly. Il say that hcice, be-
cause Charlie Deane tempts me SO to
run away down street and oh Auntie,
mamma says"
Eyes, dear; finish your prayer first,
then we will talk about it.
The sweet voice went on again to the
end, then jumping into my lap, she
said earnestly Mamma says if Annie
Grey had prayed that prayer every day
when she was little girl oh Auntie
there she is now Look Auntie!"
Parting the thick vines that shaded the
window we looked down the street be-
low despair Of painting with this
pen Of mine the picture for you. But
it was sad sight and one that, simple
country woman as / am, drew the tears
from my eyes.
A woman, young, and evidently beau
tiful once, staggering along in charge
of a policeman A drunken woman
Oh, the blue Heavens never looked up
on a sadder sight Her head was bare
and the dark, disheyeled curls were
lost; her face was sallow and emaciated
and her dress, once an expensive silk
beaounced and bedecked with ribbons
and laces, was bedraggled with mud
1t was evident that vice had done itf
work, that self-respect was gone, and
all happiness and beauty had faded
away from her young life forever.
II was the old, old story Her child
hood was wretched and lonely enough,
for her father was drunkard, and foul
years ago, when she was only sixteen
she left her home in the country foi
service in the city.
But such work did not suit her taste
and her naughty undisciplined temper
could not brook control, and one day
after giving her mistress some impu
dent words, she was told to leave tho
house.
Poor child An exile from all kind,
ness and all pity, she wandered through
the streets Of the city, yainly seeking
employment, and at night exhausted
and discouraged, sat down upon door
step and wept as if her heart would
/ break
! A jewelled hand was laid upon hel
/ shoulder, a soft voice whispered words
| Of pity-oh the magic Of kind word
How soothingly it fell upon her be
wildered hert
1t was woman who spoke to her
gaily dressed and beautiful beautiful
and enticing as the Serpent in Eden
/ Ay, better had it been for Annie Grey
if she had died there in the cold win
ters' night, than listened to the voice
I Of the tempter
/ Poor Annie Was she not more sim.
I ed against than shining? And oh, vii
not some good Christian to whom she
50 yalniy appealed Tor work aud helI
that day-will they not sometime heai
'1nasmuch as ye did il not to one o
these r Poor Annie Grey the worlC
is the same as when, only four year
ago, laughing dancing girl, she gath
cred cloyer-biossoms and scarlet berries
for her hair; but they shine and bloom
in vain for her nowl Ever between bel
and happiness comes the shadow Of bel
sin, life's ruins lay all along the rag
ged path her weary feet have trodden