The New Orleans daily Democrat. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1877-1880, 1878-01-20

ures. It suggested the Immaculate
scornful, the melancholy unattainable.
II ever a boy honestly tried to work
himself into a conviction Of sin, John
tried. And what made him miserable
was that he couldn't feel miserable
when everybody else was miserable.
He even began to pretend to be so. He
the others. He pretended he didn't
care for play; he refrained from
chasing chipmunks and sharing suck
ers; the songs Of birds and the bright
vivacity of the summer time that used
to make him turn hand-springs, smote
him as discordant levity. He was not
q hypocrite at all and he was getting to
be alarmed that he was not alarmed at
himself. Every day and night. he heard
that the spirit Of the Lord would proba-
bly, soon quit striving with him and
he would "grieve away the Holy Spirit. !"
John wondered If he was not doing It,
He did everything to put himself In the
way OF conviction, was constant at the
evening meetings, were a grave face,
RETAINED from play, and tried to feel
anxious. At length he concluded that
he must do something.
One night, as he walked home from a
solemn meeting, at which several of his
little playmates had "come forward,
he felt that he could force the crisis.
an enchanting summer night; the stars
danced overhead, and by his side the
broad and shallow river ran over its
stony bed with loud but soothing
murmur that filled all the air with en-
treaty. John did not know then that 1t
sang, But l go on forever" yet there
was in it for him something Of the SOL
emn flow OF the eternal world. When
he came in sight Of the house he knelt
down In the dust by a pile of rails and
prayed. He prayed that he might feel
bad and be distressed about himself. AS
he prayed he heard distinctly, and yet
croaktngs OF the frogs by the meadow
spring. It was not discordant with his
thoughts; it had in it a melancholy
pathos, as IL 1t were kind of call to the
unconverted.
John prayed, but without feeling any
worse, and then went desperately into
the house and told the family he was In
an anxious state Of mind. This was
joyful news to the sweet and pious
household, and the little boy was urged
to feel that he was sinner, to repent
he was prayed over, and told to read
the Bible, and put to bed with the in
junction to repeat all the texts Of
scripture and hymns he could think Of.
John did this, and said over and over
the few texts he was master OF, and
tossed about In q real discomfort now,
for he had dim notion that he was
playing the hypocrite little. But he
was sincere enough In wanting to feel
as the other boys and girls did, that he
was wicked sinner. He tried to think
oP hic ouit 1oodc on1 nno nOo,1rro1 n
him-indeed, it often came to his mind.
1t was lie; a deliberate, awful lie, that
never injured anybody but himself.
John knew that he was not wicked
enough to tell a lie to injure anybody
else.
This was lie. One afternoon at
school, just before Johns class was to
recite in geography, his pretty cousin, q
young lady he held In great love and
respect, came In to visit the school.
John was a favorite with Der, and she
pened, John felt shaky In the geo.
feared to be Inundated in the presence
Of his cousin; he felt embarrassed to
that degree that he couldn't have
bounded" Massachusetts. So he stood
up and raised his hand and said to the
schoolma am, "Please, ma am, I've got
the stomach-ache; may I 20 homer"
And Johns character for truthfulness
was 80 high (and even this was even
reproach to him), his word was in
stantly believed, and he was dismissed
without any medical examination. For
a moment John was delighted to get out
Of school 80 early; but soon his guilt
took all the light out Of his summer sky
and the pleasantness out Of nature. He
had to walk slowly, without single hop
or jump, as became diseased boy.
The sight Of woodchuck at q distance
from his we'll known hole tempted
John, but he restrained himself, lest
somebody should see him, and know
that chasing a wood chuck was incon-
sistent with the stomach ache. He was
acting miserable part, but it had to
be gone through with. He went home
and told his mother the reason he had
some" better now. The ''some" didn't
save him. Genuine sympathy was
lavished on him. He had to swallow q
dose Of nasty ''picra"-the horror Of all
childhood-and he was put in bed i'm
mediately. The world never looked 80
pleasant to John. but to bed he was
forced to go. He was excused from all
chores; he was not even to GO after the
cows. John said he thought he
ought TO lgo after the coWs-mucn as
he hated the business usually, he would
now willingly have wandered over the
world for cows-and for this heroic
offer, in the condition he was, he got
credit for desire to do his duty; and
this unjust confidence in him added to
his torture. And he had intended to set
his hooks that night for cells. His
cousin came home, and sat by his bed
side and condoled with him his school
ma,am bad sent word how sorry she was
for him, John was such good boy. All
this was dreadful. He groaned in
agony. Besides, he was not to have
any supper; 1t would be very dangerous
to eat morsel. The prospect was APP
palling. Never was there such q long
twilight; never before did he hear so
many sounds out doors that he wanted
to investigate. Being i'll without any
illness was q horrible condition. And
he began to have real stomach ache
now; and it ached because It was
empty. John was hungry enough to