The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1870-04-20
Htsqellaneons.
Johnny, the NewsbOy.
A THRILLING INCIDENT.

Something more than year ago. as the
writer was sitting in the cars, going vest,
q pleasant voice sung out-"Paper, sir !;
paper, sir; morning paper, lady ?"
There was nothing new in the words,
nothing new to see q small boy with a
package OF papers under his arm, but the
voice, so low and musical, its clear, ten
der tones mellow as flute, called up hal
lowed memories.
One look at the large, brown eyes. the
broad forehead, the mass of nut brown
curls. the pinched cheeks, and his history
was known
"What is your name, my boy 2" asked
as, half blinded with tears, l reached out
my hand for paper.
Johnny " the last name did
not catch.
''Can you read 2"
''Oh, yes; I've been to school some, ("
glancing out of the window, to see if there
was necessity of haste.
IIhad little brother once, whose name
was Johnny. He had the same brown
hair and tender, loving eyes, and perhaps
it was on this account l felt very much
like throwing my arms around JOhnny's
neck, and kiss him on the thin cheek. A
long, shrill whistle, with another short
and peremptOry, and Johnny must be off.
There was nothing to choose, my little
Testament, with its neat binding and pref
ty steel clasp, was in Johnny's hand.
There was a movement, we were off.
strained my eyes out OF the window after
Johnny, but did not see him, and shutting
them, dreamed what was in store for
him-not forgetting His love and care for
this destitute, tender voiced boy.
A month ago made the same journey,
and passed over the same railroad track.
Hating for moments respite at one of
the many places of the way, what was my
surprise to see the same boy, taller, heal
thier, with the same eyes and pure voice.
five thought of you, lady. 1 wanted
TO tell you that ms all the little book"
''The little book has done it all. car
ried it home and father read it. He was
out of work then, and mother cried over
it. At first 1 thought it was wicked book
to make them feel so bad, but the more
they read it the more they cried, and it's
all been different since. It's all the little
book, we live In q better house now, and
father don't drink, and mother says twill
be all right again."
Dear little Johnny, he had to talk so
fast but his eyes were bright and spark
ling. and his brown face all aglOw.
''I'm moi selling many papers now, and
father says may be l can go to school this
fall"
Never did so crave moment of time.
| But now, the cars were in motion. john
ny fingered as long as prudence would al
| low.
''It's all the little book, " sounded in my
ears, the little book that told of Jesus, and
his love for poor perishing men. What 6
chanCel A comfortable home, no more
a slave TO strong drink. Hope was in the
hearts of the parents, health mantled the
cheeks of the children. From the gloon
of despair to world of light, from being
poor and friendless, the little book told
them of One mighty to save, the precious
Elder Brother, with heart all tenderness
all love.
Would that all the JOhnnies who sci
papers, and fathers that drink. and moth
ers that weep over the runs of once hap
by homes, teek to their wretched dwell
ings the book that tells of Jesus and Hi
lOvel And not only these, but all thu
Johnnies that have no parents, living Il
cellars, and sleeping in filth and wretched
ness-Would that they could learn from
this little book what friend they have il
Jesus.-[S. S. Times.