The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1874-08-09

them was Amy, the shepherds step daugh-
ter. She was u tender hearted child and
the clergyman, after speaking of our dnty
towards our neighbor, said, can people
who would please God, must do good &c.
cording to their means, be those means
ever so little" she could not refrain from
weeping.
For Amy was very poor, and felt inno-
Gently persuaded that she had no power
whatever to gladden. by her love or kind.
ness any earthly creature, not even lamb
or a,young dove. See had neither, poor
So. Amy came out of church with sad
ness in her heart, thinking that God would
take no pleasure in her, because (but that
was only her own idea) she bad never yet
done good to any one.
Not wishing that her eyes, now red with
weeping, should be seen at home, she went
into the fields, and laid herself down under
wild rose bush tree. There, she remark
ed that the leaves of the shrub, furnished
with dust, were dry and dropping, and
and faded for there had been no rain for q
very long time.
She FASTENED to brook that flowed by
at no great distance, drew water in the
hollow of her hand, (for cup she had money
and thus toilfully and by slow degrees, often
the dust away from the languisbipg rose
bush, and go refreshed it's roots by the timely
moisture. that soon it reared itself again
in strength and beauty, and joyfuiiy and
fragrantly unfolded it's blossoms to the
sun.
After that, little Amy wandered on by
the side Of the brook in the meadows,
whence she had obtained the water. As
she gazed upon it che almost envied the
silver stream, because it had been ablo to
do good to the rose tree
On what she herself had DONE, she did
,ootr np1n
Proceeding little way further, she OBJ
served great stone lying in tho bed of the
narrow brook, and SO choking up the chan
mel that the water could only struggle past
it slowly, and, as it were, drop by drop.
Owing to this obstacle all the merry prattle
of the stream was atan end. This grieved
Amy on the waters account SO, with
naked feet she went into the stream, and
shook the heavy stone. Some time
elapsed before she could move it from its
place but, at length, by tasklng all her
strength, she rolled it out, and got it to
remain on the top of the bank. Then the
streamlet flowed merrily by, and the pur-
ling waves seemed to be murmuring thanks
TO the gentle child.
And onward still went Amy, for at home
she knew there was no one who cared to
inquire after her. She was disliketi by her
step father, and even her own mother low
ed the younger children better than she
loved her. This constituted the great sor-
row of Amy's life.
Going far abont, and ever cad because
she had done good to no one, she at last
returned to the village. Now, by the very
first cottage she came to, there lay, in a
little garden, Il sick child whose mother
was gore ~ CLEAN in the neighhorng fields.
Before she went, however, she hal made n
toy-a little wind put together with
thin slips of woodland placed il by her
little sou, u amu.e>}iu, and to make the
- n Ia
sence.
Every breath Of air, however, had died
away beneath the trees, SO that the tiny
sails of tIlr windmi;l turned round no
more. And the rick child. missing the
playful motion, lay sorrcw.ully upon tie
green turf, uuder tie elbow marigoids, and
wept.
Then Amy stepped quickly over the low
garden hedge, beedless that it tore her
only Sunday frock, knelt haSere the little
windmill, and blew with all her might up
on it's slender saile. Thus impelied, they
were coon in merry motion, as at first.
Then the sick child laughed, and clapped
his little hands and AWy, delighted at
his pleasure, was never weary of urging
the sails round and round with her breath
At last the child. tired out by the joy
which the little windmill had given him,
fell fast asleep and Amy, warned by the
evening shadows which began to gather
round her, turned her steps towards homo.
Faint and exhausted was she, for since
noon she mad eaten nothing.
When size reached tGc cottage door, and
stopped tise!c fer Il moment with beating
heart, sfp~ hcaId her st, p.Father's voice,
loud and quaIreTsorHn, resonuding from
within. He Rad jest returned from the
alehouse, and was in his well known an
CRY humor, which the least cause OF irrjta-
ton might swell iato 4 storu. Unfortu-
nately, as Amy, trembling, entered the
room her torn froc% caught his eve. His
passion was bind'cd at the sight. Reused
to fury in moment. he stumbled forward,
and, with his powerful fist, struck the poor
little child on the forehead.
Then Amy bowed her head like the
withered roses in the Eeid, for the blow
had fallen upon her temple. As she sunk,
pale and dying, to The grourd, her mother,
with loud lamentations, spCa0g forward
and kneeled beside her. Even the stern and
angry man, sudGenly sobered by his own
deed, became touched with pity.
So, beth the paFeote wep@ and mourned