American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1873-03-29
TIE POOR OLD MAN.

We lately read story in the Dayspring
about some thoughtless school-boys who
made sport OF an old man. He was a
kindling-wo for some of the fires in the
poorhouse, where he lived. The boys
were having their recess, and as soon as
they saw him came whOoping around
him, and crying, ''Here's old Calvert !!
Let's have some fun, boys! It's nothing;
he lives in the poorhouse."
And then they insuited and worried the
poor, feeble old man in a shameful way.
The teacher saw it all from a window
and was deeply grieved. The school-bell
rang, and the scholars came filing in.
was panied, she says, in telling the
story. / was sick at heart There we're
the boys had loved so insulting an old
man. l walked about the room until they
were in position. and then said, "Never
mind the class now; l have something to
tell you. You have all got good fathers,
haven't yous" Every hand went up;
81 am glad of it. Well, I've been
thinking lately that you children know
but little of what is before you. l don't
know how many rich men, talented law
yers, God -fearing missionaries, authors
and authoresses am now looking upon,
but without doubt 1 am looking on some !;
and do not know how many town pau
pers am lookingupon now, because every
town pauper was a boy once. Every old
trembling man was an active boy once.
Every one in that poorhouse over there
was young and happy once. Did you
ever think OF that ~ The little faces be-
gan to grow sober. "Boys, let me paint a
picture for you. Let me take the best
father that sends to this school"
Every boy looked anxious for me to
take his.
"Never mind; I'll take yours, frankie.
He works nard for you from early morn
till closing day, doesn't he -
eyes, ma'am."
"Well, now help me paint. See him
going along year after year, working and
toiling for you and your sisters, trying
hard to earn enough for your clothes and
your schooling By and by there stand
your sisters being married to somebody.
and they go off from home !, ng, long
miles. You go to sea. Father and mother
toll on, working to make pleasant home
for the children to come to. BY and by
mother dies of overwork, and is buried.
Perhaps the children will put gravestone
at her grave, with her name and age, but
that doesn't tell much about the lonely
hours she has spent over your cradles, nor
the weary hours she has stitched, washed
and mended for you. 'TwoUld take a
gravestOne with an area Of a square mile
to tell one half.
"Well, perhaps you wander off into
strange countries; the girls think mother
is dead, and lose their longing for home,
and don't visit it as before-have hard
work to get victuals for their own little
ones. Maybe you. who might be staff
for his old age 10 lean upon, never return,
but are buried beneath the waters.
1.-THE old man soon hears of the death
of another, and then the other girl Gor l
shan't paint the picture as it is plainly
drawn sometimes, for l don't believe you
or your sisters are cruel enough to desert
him while you live); then he pines for
them, gets too old to work, and away he
goes to the poorhOuse!"
The blue eyes filled with tears.
Gle never dreamed of it once-yOu
don't dream of it now; but, my dear little
boys, your parents are just as likely to
end their days in that poorhouse as some
that are there now; but it doesn't seem
so, because the time is little further off
perhaps"
Suppose we change the light of the
picture now, children, where you can see
it palmer"
The girls looked plying, and the boys
were seeing the application.
t'Days go on; he gets feeble and totter-
ing, and it is hard work for him to walk.
He tries to mind the pocrmaster, and goes
on little errands that his shattered mind
can remember, but cannot venture on the
street, because some noble, naanly, gener-
ous, and kind boys-are those the correct
adjectives to apply to that noun boys,
scholars?"
mo, ma'am," came family from the
quvering lips.
"WeIl, then, Moughtless boys, because
Mo,tgAHess, naughty boys will tease and
terrify him. SO that he Is afraid to pass
by them. They are young and nimble,
and he knows he cannot attack them be-
fore they are out of his reach. Now,
Frank, how do you like that picture?
Could you love those boys? Wouldy your
sleep beneath the blue waves be any
sweeter for it? Could you wish teachers
and parents to stand by and speak no
word in the old mans behalf?"
mo, ma'am," came from shame-bowed
heads.
"And another thing: who feels any
lighter-hearted over the picture? and who
can see what it means?" The hands of
the whole school came up.
'Who promises to profit by it," All
the hands came up again.
"Who will promise me never to give as
an excuse again, IT'S nothing; he lives
in the poorhouse'?'
Every hand rose gladly.
But, boys, you've got n weight that
you H1UH l DelOIt ItCcSS- II tilC w ~
of those oaths you provoked that man to
utter Who'll promise to try to lessen 1t
by never provoking repetition?"
Up come the dear little hands
"Now one more promise, boys and
girls" and ! said it slowly and solemnty.
who'll promise to treat every poor
house inmate as they would ike to have
their darling father and mother treated if
they live to weep at your graves, and,
with no willing hands to work for them,
have to go to the poorhouse?"
Tears stood in theireyes and the hands
came up with a sorrowful motion, as if
grieving because there appeared to be
remote chance for such an ending.
That night, after school, | saw the as
tonished Calvert drop his barrow 10 look
in amazement at enc of the penitcnt ones,
who had begged his forgiveness.
Little boy or girl, did you or do you do
so, because it's some poor man or woman
who Lives in the poorhoGse'? Ii so,
promise me never to repeat the wicked,
cruel act; and if nothing else Restraints
you, remember my picture, the sermon ii
preached and the converts it made. Re
member it may be your folks, or you, at
some day in the future. ChNdIen's Hour.