The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1875-12-03
| will do my best, sir.

| 10 tuc lldlleT.
Indeed, sir, l will tell you the very whole
truth, sobbed the poor child Six months
ago, or more, took shilling belonging
to father; it was very wrong, know, bu
wanted to go to the circus and see the
riders. In day or two afterwards con
fessed it, for l was very unhappy and mis-
cradle. Father said he would forgive me
but he dose not seem to have done so, fol-
he is always Gliding me for it, and bring
ing ii up against me even now.
Was it thy first offence asked the
Quaker.
Yes, sir, said Henry, mournfully.
And has thou sinned in that way since
No, sir.
What does he say to thee on those oc-
Icasions when he brings it up against theei
What did he say to thee this morning
That am not to be trusted, sir; that /
am not honest; that may steal again.-
This morning he would not let me bring
his watch down the stairs for him, for fear,
as he said, might say it was not there.
| And thou art sure in thy own mind that
thou art honest Thou hast confessed thy
sin, and asked forgivness of God and OF
thy father?
Yes, sir; l have, indeed.
| Well, Henry, it is very hard for thee {;
| but thee must not be too much cast down
by it, 1t is cross which thou hast to
| bear, and thou must take it up until thy
father acts differently towards thee he is
hard man, but very upright one. Thou
must continue striving to do what is right
| will show thee, in the meantime, that |
have confidence in thee-that can trust
thee. Thee shall take this check for me
to the bank and get it cashed it is for
| fifty pounds. Are thy pockets good
| Take care that thee dost not lose the mon
ey.
Henry's eyes Enlightened, as he said:
Never fear, sir, / will be sure to bring the
money safely back.
Henry was soon back, and the money
right and safely deposited on the table.
Thou art good lad, said the old Quaker,
and hast been very prompt. Hadst thou
been long time away might have been
getting anxious and fearing that l had
acted imprudently in trusting one so young
with 50 much money; now go to thy
work.
Henry's heart was much lighter when he
got home to dinner that day his mother
saw the change, and was comforted.
What do you think, mother? said he,
whispering to her after dinner; Mr.. Drake
sent me to the bank to fetch him fifty
pounds; he said he had confidence in me-
Don't tell father, though, for perhaps he
will say something unpleasant.
Husband, said Mrs. Holden, when Henry
was gone, wish you would promise me
never to say anything more about that UNI
fortunate shilling to Henry again, he feels
it so much. 1t is breaking his heart
Breaking his heart exclaimed John
Holden; nonsense. And as for hurting his
feelings, they ought to be well hurt. Is
matter like that to be all hushed up and
never alluded to for fear of hurting his
feelings? Do you want your son to grow
up to be theft
am not afraid of his growing up to be
a thief, John. You are doing him harm
by constantly throwing out hints about
his honesty, and bringing the matter be-
fore him. You Cont know the harm you
are doing.
You are very foolish woman, and if it
had not been for me the boy would have
been ruined by your over indulgence
Hurt his feelings, forsooth Give your
husband credit for little common sense.
| hope know how to manage boys; good
bye, said John Holden, going out at the
door, must be off.
Goodbye, said his wife. And may God
soften your heart, she added earnestly, and
give you to see wherein you are wrong.
On Saturday afternoon, John Holden
went rs usual to Mr.. brakes office to re-
ceive his wages. After he was paid, the
Quaker said to him, wait a minute, John.
Y IL.
thy father livipg9
Oh, no, sir; be has been dead many
years-died when l was mere boy.
But then thee has Father in Heaven.
the great God and Maker of lis all Is it
not so, John2
John looked surprised as lie answered,
Why yes, sir, l suppose have; suppose
we all have.
Assuredly; but had hoped that thee
might have had more intimate knowl-
edge of thy Father in Heaven; that the
prayed to Him frequently, and confessed
thy sins, and asked for pardon, and be
| sought His guidance and teaching, as it is
our privilege to do.
Well, sir, cannot say but what | do :;
sometimes more and sometimes less d; not
as much as | ought to do, know.
am glad 10 hear thee say that thee
dost that was what | wanted to get at.
| Dost thou feel that when thou hast con-
| tessed sin to Him, and hast repented with
true sorrow, that he is always bringing it
up against thee; always and forever child
| ing thee?
John stammered, looked confused, as
well as surprised, and then said: May l
ask you, sir, why you ask me such pointed
questions
Ask thy own heart, John; if that does
not answer thee, am afraid cannot do
so to my satisfaction only l would adj
wise thee, as a true friend TO thee and thy
boy, to let 'by-gones be by-gones,' and not
to be always Gliding him for sin OF which
he truly repents, and has confessed to thee
Deal with him more as thy Heavenly Fa-
ther deals with thee, and with all of us :;
for he is tender-hearted, and the Bible
says, He will not always Glide: neither
will he keep his anger forever l have
the fullest confidence in thy son, John. If
thou wilt not trust him, and encourage
him, and le'p him to do what is right,
will. Oh, John, John where is thy ia
theirs heart9 Wilt thou not take thy poor
penitent child to it9
HaFe pcch wrong, SIT, very wrong salQ
John, with a CULVER in his voice. | will
never allude to it more l thought was do
ing right, / did, indeed; though had begun
to think sometimes lately that had said
enough. But thank you much tor the
lesson you have taught me. will try to
be tendcrer and better father, and that
l am sure will oomfoi my poor wile's heart
as well as my boys, for saw he was great
ly distressed one morning this week ;
though how you came to know what you
do, is mystery to me, sir.
am rejoiced to hear thee say So May
God help thee, thy wife, and thy children.
Good afternoon to thee, John.