The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1872-03-21

own, yearning from its bitter unrest
| tow ard some nneomp1ehended peace,
was less Jealous Of FERNS and names,
than some of US, His followers.
Hal came back at little past the
hour for afternoon session, silent and
pale, but Miss Waring knew instinct
lively that it was not sullenness which
prevented response TO her smile of
welcome. 1t was well, she thought,
4 that his heart was too sore for rapid
healing. Meanwhile she must give
him, as best she could, the safe tonic
of helpful service.
So she asked him to stay after school
and help her to carve a pair of brack-
cts with which she meant to surprise
the children, each one to hold sim
pie vase, since the daily floral offerings
were sadly crowded by the globe and
books upon her little desk.
81 am so awkward with a jack
knife, Hal, ,'she said laughingly, sand
! last night cut my finger, and was
quite discouraged. Then who should
come in but Grandpa Spinney, with
that wonderful cane-head of his, and
when | asked him who cut it, he told
me quite proudly that it was you. So
knew Immediately where to go for
/ help
The boy blushed, half ashamed of
l having been detected in the little kind
ness-comInon opinion having given
him over to unalleyed evil, he uncon-
sciously shared with the rest of hui
manity the tendency to preserve COR
sistent reputation. However, he con-
| sented eagerly to her request. She
| took care to let few silent moments
pass in which the memory of the re-
cent outbreak might settle down in
chill constraint between them, and
drew him on to speak of things he un-
derstood-habits of BIRD or beast, Sc
crets of wood and water course, gain
| ed, as she rightly conjectured. through
many day of truantship, and atoned
for, night by night with pitiless
stripes.
She praised again his skill with the
knife, and he told her of old Anton,
the Swiss wood-caryer, who had once
sojourned in the village, with his
Quaint costume and broken speech, ,and
| his thrilling stories of life among
mountains and glaciers.
90, Miss WaringI" he cried out at
last, quite carried out of himself by
enthusiasm, 81 should like to go there
somewhere, ,.anywhere-to be free u
Miss Waring laid her gentle hand
upon his head.
"My boyw. she said seven here, at
home, you may be more than free-a
king!n,
His eager eyes were on her face
Her solemn tender voice went on:
'.He that ruleth his own spirit is
better than he that taketh a city, A
hard conquest Harold-a prouder vic
tory"
The boy breathed heavily and his
eyes sank, dim with film of unshed
tears. They worked awhile i'll silence,
then the teacher took out her watch
"It is tea time" she said. s'I am go
ing your way tonight. Shall we walk
together ?"
Deacon Thorn from his work in the
garden, bowed to Miss Waring as they
drew near.
81 must beg your pardon, Mr..
Thorn," she said, "for having kept
Harold SO late. 1 wanted his help
about bit of work was doing"
"I'm very glad, Miss, if you can
make him of any use. It's more than
anybody else can"
"Harold is doing very finely in his
arithmetic, Mr.. Thorn. I'm quite
proud of him."
"Well, the terms but just begun.
A new broom, you know, Miss p
She saw the old hard look darken
over the boys face.
"God give me patience with this
mans blindnessl" her soul cried ont,
as she turned to pass on her way. She
hor Il s<rH
but he still walked at her side, his
heavy eyebrows knit and lowering.
You see how it isl'he burst out at
last. "There's no usei"
'tHarold," she answered, "Daake
Your father trust you'll This is part
of the battle. You are not a coward,
to fly at the first onslaught z"
"A coward Mol" His face famed.
"But it seems to me cowardly to bear
things. I'm sick of meekness and pa
tience, the right cheek, and left cheek,
and all that! There's that tGridley-you
know him, Miss Waring? He came
to me when I was in" He stopped
short with hot flush, and his listner
felt instinctively that the word 'jail"
had almost passed his lips.
-"-He came to me once and told me
how awfully wicked was, and talked
about meekness and forgiving ones
enemies-he when had seen him
fog his oxen in the furrow, Miss War
ing,till the skin lay all in bloody welts,
because his plowshare broke against
rock. / hate shamsp
Harold, what makes the sham
Isn't it the real behind it? If there
were no silver dollars, would they
make pewter ones, do you think? If
there were no truth, would there be
any liars p
The boy was silent moment, then
he said impetuously;
s'You know that chapter you read
this morningi Why didn't he ask
for the twelve legions of angels
Those Jews had no right to
take his life!''
'sThey did not take it, Harold! 1t
was his-all heaven and earth were
his! He was free-at the judgment
seat-on the cross-in the grave! 1t
was the victory oflove! Greater love
hath no man than this, that man lay
down his life for friend And they
were enot even that !"
A great wave of emotion swept
over the boys frame, e,and left him still.
At last, .shis life for his friendB' he re-
peated softly. Then lifting his head,
he said in voice strangely altered, 81
think it might be done!"
She looked into his face and knew
that she had won his heart. Do you
wonder that she trembled? 1t is
fearful thing for one soul, clinging
fast beneath seething seas ofdoubt, to
know itself the only anchor of anoth-
er near to wreck God be thanked for
that human love which teaches the
Divine. For the power which shapes
the little acts and words of common
life into an angels ladder, whose top
is lost i'll cloudless heights.
Miss Waring walked on now alone.
At the turn of the road, she paused
and looked back. 1t was a quiet scene
the winding street bordered by dou-
BILE rows of elms, a century old; the
white church-spire cleaning thro' the
clustering green. On the right, visi-
BILE from her sliOht eninence stretch-