, 1880-09-20

:" know, but 1t don SOun0 Ike the
prayers I used to hear at the 'sylum.
There they spoke to some one close at
hand, so gentle, 30 loving, and yet SO
mighty
Oh, Robbie, now I just remember
the words, so strong to deliver Who
knows but He might save you. There
was the maa IN the den of lions, and
the three children in the fiery fur
naee."
Its no use, Sue," ho interrupted
sadly. There's no deliverer for me
but Chris, and he'll never come
now. Go on to the house and
tell the old man that can't find it. It's
as woll to get it over"
Poor lamb!' said, the tender
hearted girl, kissing the quiyering lips
which were trying so hard to be brave.
",Ill leave the light, and I'll beg hard
for you Aud repressing sigh over
the hopelessness of her task, she glided
out into the starlight, leaving the poor
little victim to await cruelty, which,
considering the centuries of Christian
progress that have elapsed since the
slaughter of the innocents, not only out
Herods Herod, but is one of the dark
est blots npon our social life.
Just here l must pause to offer plea
for the children, the most defeneeless
objects in all Gods creation. We sigh
over the miseries Of poor Smike, over
little David Copperfeld's s sorrowful
journey; alas! that the magic hand
which SO moved rs is vanished forever,
but 1 can match these thrilling narra-
tives with true stories of child rem
dered almost idotic by continued
cruelty, and OF little fugitive bound
boy who, after weary days of hunger
and travel, sank bli3tered and faintlng
at his mothers feet. l can tell Of u
man-think of it-a woman! who,
for some childish fault committed dur
ing the day, followed an orphan boy to
his bed with horsewhip. and then,
when there was no protection save the
one thin little night garment, broke
upon his innocent slumber with sting
ing blows. And, upon the evidence of
the laundry girl, when that same little
garment came to the wash, it was
striped with blood. This is not pleas
ant reading. 1t is far from being pleas
ant writing.
s' A father to the fatherless is God in
his holy habitation!" Think of this, 0
mother, whose household contains one
of these children of the Highest. Think
of it as you gather your little ones
around the glowing fire side for song
or story, and make oCm for the stran
ger within your doors. When you di-
vide the boarded store of cakes or ap-
pies, remember that his little milk
teeth are as eager for sweets as those of
your own darlings, and be there much
or little, give him a share. When your
hand is laid caressingly upon your own
childrens s heads, let its light pressure
also touch his young brow. Who
knows kut it may be there like conse
Grating chrism, amounting him to
noble deeds for God and humanity?
Do these things, snd do them cow.
Check not your kindly impulses
until it is too late, until the thin hands
are crossed within the coffin, and the
sad eyes-hungry for mothers kiss
have gone to tell their pitiful story to
Him who has said: "Suffer the chill
dren; or worse, until young soul
shall have grown hardened, and lit
tie one, offended by you, shall have
become curse and clogging milestone
upon the neck Of society.
But to return to my story. Left
alone in the great barn the sensitive
child endured the two-fold agony of
nervous terror and anticipated suffer-
ing. But he had not long to wait.
Soon the heavy boots of old Beeson
were heard tramping across the cow
yard and into tho barn. Robbie stole
one fugitive glance as he entered, saw
the hardset face; saw the long, black
whip trailing from his hand and the
last vestige of hope was gone.
Z" Now, you young rascal, I'll pay
you for your carelessness,' cried the
bitter master, as he caught sight of the
little covering form; and seizing tae
trembling boy by the arm. he raised
the whip, like a great stitfening SER
pent, high in the air.
But, why did it not descend? The
boy, who had closed his eyes, and set
his teeth hard, wondered at the DELAY.
From somewhere above, came rush
ing sound, and the cruel, uplifted arm
was grasped ard held with grip of
iron. What could it mean? Had God
sent one of his mighty angels down to
rescue the little waif, too hopeless to
implore his protection? It we'll might
be so, for Our Father is not Indifferent
to the troubles of his suffering children;
but the eyes of this glorious deliverer
were cleaning with too much indig-
nant fury and human passion for those
Of heavenly visitant.
"Chris!" The one glad cry burst
from Roobie's lips, and then, un-
noticed of either, he sank sobbing
among the hay and straw littering the
floor.
"Coward! hypocrite! traitor!" These
were the words which hurst imnetu.