The Lake County star. [volume] (Chase, Mich.) 1873-current, 1875-12-23

Ashamed and distressed, the boy hung
down his head. His cheeks seemed burst
ing with the hot blood, and his lips
quivered.
SWELL" he muttered, his whole frame
shaking, there's no use in my trying to
do better; everybody hates and despises
me nobody cares about me-"
"Tell me-" said the woman, "how
came you to 60, 80 young, to that dread
full place? Where is your motherT
"Oh !" exclaimed the boy, with burst
of grief that was terrible to behold ooh,
l hadn't no mother hadn't no mother
ever since was a babyl If I'd only had
MOTHER" he continued, while tears
gushed from his eyes, +" 1 wouldn't have
been bound out, and kicked, and cuffed,
and horse-whipped. l wouldn't have
been saucy and got knocked down, and
ran away, and then stole because was
hungry. Oh! if I'd only had a mo-
therw
The strength was all gone from the
poor boy, and he sunk on his knees, sob
bling great choking sobs, and rubbing
the hot tears away with the sleeve of his
jacket.
The woman was mother; and though
all her children slept under the cold sod
in the churchyard, she was a mother
still. She put her hand kindly on the
head of the boy, and told him to look
up, and said from that time he should
find in her a mother. Yes, even put her
arms around the neck of that fOrsaken,
deserted child. She poured from her
mothers heart sweet, kind words, words
of counsel and tenderness. Oh how
sweet was her sleep that night; how soft
her pillow She had plucked some thorns
from the path of little SHINING but
striving mortal.
That poor boy is now promising man.
His fOster.father is dead, his foster
mother aged and sickly; but she knows
no want. The "poor Outcast" is her
support. Nobly does he repay the trust
repOsed in him.
"When my father and mother forsake
me, the Lord will take me up"
The DYING Boy AND THE VIoLETs.-
The little sufferer lay in high, dreary
garnet, and the beams above his head and
on every side were black and foul. His
cheek was scarlet with the flush of fever,
and the unnatural light of his eye flashed
in the dimness of coming evening like a
diamond in its gloomy bed of anthracite.
Something told the child that death was
busy with its dart. 1t might have been
an angel, for angels gather in bands
around the despised couch of poverty.
Mother" he whispered, and pale,
bent woman knelt beside him mother,
is there one blown now9 Look look %
For the twentieth time the sickly wo-
man lifted the tiny box of vislets, and
the blood rushed to her face as she be-
held one little dropping bud beginning
to unfold. She took it to the boy-the
child, almost an infant-and sweet
smile lighted up his innocent features.
"Put it down, mother, where l can
look at it till 1 die"
With wild sob the poor widow placed
it on his pillow, and watched the CLASSY
eyes eagerly as they rested upon the
flower. Hours passed; the brow grew
winter, the fingers she had clasped were
more clammy, the round lips, that had
often called her mother, more purple
fading into blush white, and tremulous
as though the failing voice struggled fol
utterance. She placed her ear close to
his face and heard him utter distinctly
Coed bye. mamma; take good care
of my violets."
After the rough, pine coffin was car
ried away and covered with mold, while
her worn fingers were nervously stitch
ing on the ill-paid for garments, that
mother could see vision of beauty fill.
ing the wretched garnet with light and
loveliness-a vision of the early-buried
child, in thu pure, white robes of heaven
bending over the box of violets.
LOSING A Walter Scott tells
a story of boy who was with him in
school, who always stood at the head OF
scholars to change places in their classes,
according to failure or success in recita-
ton; but though Walter was number
two, he could not get to the head, be-
cause this boy never missed. But Wal
ter noticed that he had habit, when
puzzled by hard question, of twirling
button on his jacket, and this seemed
to help him think out right answer.
Walter, more through mischief than
any worse motive, cut off the button
slyly one day, to see if it would make
any difference. The lesson was spelling
lesson, and several boys at the foot
missed hard word. 1t came round to
the head. The boy instinctively put his
hand to the button. 1t was gone. lie
looked down to find it, grew confused,
missed the word, and Walter went above
him. The boy never got to the head
again, seemed to lose his ambition, set
tied down into a second-rate scholar,
and never accomplished much in life.
Scott declared that he often suffered
sharp remorse at the thought that he
possibly spoiled the boy for school and
for life by cutting off the button that
had done such good service.