The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1871-09-28

tern.
Z am on my way to the poor
| house, he said, with sour grim
when I came home, at sundown.
what should I find but a worthless
brat my wife had taken in! and she
was actually hoping I'd let her keep
it. Keep it, indeed! The little
rat was with a company Of tramps
the constable is after. So I guess
/ they we're glad to drop it on the
road. My wife, like q fool, believes
the child's gabble, and says they
left her because they could not
make her lie and steal. She'd do
it as fast as the rest, I'll venture TO
say. Her tale is, that she's no ia
ther nor mother, nor any one, and
them traps picked her up. l don't
believe a word of it. So when I
came home-though I'd been to
mill, and it was late-I says, says
I, She don't sleep in my house a
single night. I'll have her where
she belongs before daylight, as sure
as my names Peter Turner So
as soon as I done my chores, 1
hitched up and started with her
Then the pesky harness broke; and
altogether, I've had more than my
share of trouble with her"
There's the lantern hanging on
That nail,' said Mrs. Flowers, short
".
I'll bring it back in minute"
he grufly answered; and, after he
had lit it, opened the door. He
drew back with a muttered oath.
What did you follow me for? he
growled.
A little child stood on the thresh-
hold. Her wan, wild-eyed face,
surrounded by pale golden locks,
falling on her emaciated shoulders,
might have moved a heart of stone
to pity. Peter Turner's was too
small to contain so expansive an
emotion; but Mrs. Flowers rejoic-
ed in larger organ of circulation.
Come in, child she cried. in her
cordial voice, advancing and ex-
tending her hand. Then turning
to Peter said he could leave her
there until he repaired the harness
and returned the lantern.
He made a surly response and
disappeared. The dame drew the
child to the fire; the little, tremb-
ling thing gazed at her earnestly as
she crOuched before it, and spread
her blue hands to the generous
blaze. Want had stamped its mark
upon her; but though it had dim
med her eyes and followed her in
fant cheeks, it had failed to destroy
the impress she bore of a pure soul.
See hereP cried Conscience, SIS
there not a suffering creature near
you now? VIII you tell me again
there is no need to sacrifice your |
besetting sinY
Mingling with her voice came
those sweet and gracious words |
spoken eighteen hundred years ago
and which still breathe their ac- |
cents through this sin troubled !
world as clearly as when first ut
tered; "Inasmuch as We did it un-
to the least of these, yc did it unto
mer'
The childless woman and the
motherless child looked into each
others faces, each with longing, |
questioning gaze.
You are not afraid of me, child, |
are you? she asked, laying her
hand gently on the little ones
shoulder.
No, not of your replied the
child as she touched with timid |
finger the good woman's soft cheek;
''but l am of him. glancing wildly /
toward the door. He is taking me
to the poor house, she whispered,
with dropping head, and trembling
like dying bird.
not one step shall you gor cried
the true-hearted, motherly soul, and
she clasped the desolate little crea-
tnre TO her warm heart.
Great was Mr.. Peter Turner's
disgust on his return with the Ian
tern. $50 you are opening a re-
fuge for stray thieves, are you Mrs.
FlowersY he asked scornfnlly.-
We'll, it's nothing to me. All
have to say is, if Mr.. Flowers likes
to spend his earnings that way, I
don't. But I'll help you along
he added with cutting irony. sand
whenever ! see any stragglers
that the constable is after. I'll send
them on to you And with that
Parthian dart ne went his way.
Mr.. FIoEers, deeply sunk in re
pose, was profoundly unconscious
Of this sndden addition to his FAM
ily. He was aroused by his wife
pulling his whiskers. and saying
she had something to show him
After struggling in 'slumber' chain
for a few moment, he managed to
open his eyes sufficiently TO diseoE-
er the sharer of his griefs and joys
seated on the side of the bed. hold