American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1880-03-20

Prilly," he said. "You pet and coddl,
them, and teach them to live on charity
when they ought to do more to helI
themselves. You know, rs well as | do
that they are miserable crew. Water
Street is the worst street in town. You
can't find any worthy poor there; but
you spend on them all the money you
can get"
'If you won't give me any money
answered Aunt Prilly, quietly, Evil
you do something else for me, Mr..
JohnP'
"Yes, yes; any thing to please you.
Amy thing but money. What is it?'
"Will you go out tonight in the
moonlight (you have no wife and chill
dren to keep you at home), and go
through Water Street, and up two flights
of stairs, where the poorest of the poor
live, and"
"Yes, yes, 1 WILL" interrupted Mr..
John. 81 like to air my brain at night,
after working it all day over my money
troubles. And I'll take run up the
| two flights of stairs. And I'll do some
thing more for you, Aunt Prilly," added
John Claverhouse, now actually smiling
and trying to make himself agreeable.
elf l find saint, one genuine saint,
such as you talk about, up those two
flights of stairs, I'll pull your bell be-
fore go to sleep and empty my wallet
into your lap. As sure as my name is
John Claverhouse, will"
"Give me your hand on that" ex-
claimed Aunt Prilly, rising from her
chair and stepping up to Mr.. John.
Mr.. Claverhou.e extended his hand,
but with knowing smile, as he said:
You needn't talk to me about your
worthy poor in Water Street. Not
saint will 1 find there"
swell, goodbye for to-day, Mr..
John. I'll leave it with you to decide
whether there's a saint in Water Street
or not.''
Aunt Prilly was gone; and Mr.. John
Claverhouse was left alone, to mediate
on the uncertainty of riches and to
deplore the fact that they take wings
and fly away. His riches had not
yet flown away, but their wings seemed
spread, just ready for flight, and Mr..
John Claverhouse was a very anxious
man.
But evening found him hurrying
along in the direction of Water Street,
and as he turned into the street the dim
lights shone out here and there into the
cutters, and all the air seemed foul, not
only with bad odors, but with oaths and
curses.
sThere's nothing that looks as if
there were saint anywhere around
here," thought Mr.. Claverhouse; "but
I'll keep my word and take a
run up two flights of stairs. There's
no knowing, though, what I'll get
into. Bad place, this! bad place!
What what Music in here, as sure rs
I'm alive"
As he said this John Claverhouse was
standing by the first door, at the top of
the second fight of stairs, with his hand
bent ready to knock. But he did not
knock. He stopped and held his breath
to listen to the music inside.
There is name so sweet on earth,
No name so sweet rs Jesus.
GA saint up here, I'm afraid! A
saint ut the top of this shaky, wretched
staircase!" said John Claverhouse to
himself Again there came to his ears:
There is no name so sweet on earth,
No name SO sweet us Jesus.
"I must go in! l must go in!" he
said, nervously.
He tapped and, hearing a faint, soft
answer, :" Gomez he walked in.
A face bearing the marks of severe
suffering, and yet Sc -ene, looked smil-
ingly up at him fire 4 poor old bed
stead-as poor and Id as the rest of
the scanty furniture.
IS How do you do, a'amp" he asked,
rather abruptly, for h. was not used to
visiting the poor.
''More comfortable that usual, sir.
Thank you, kind stranger, for coming
in to see me. 1 am alone nearly all the
time. Poverty, you know, attracts few
friends. Please take a chair near the
fire. A very poor fire it is for SO raw
and chilly an evening, but it is a fire."
For the first time in his life John
felt embarrassed in the
presence of proverty.
"Why, she's lady; and I'm afraid
she's saint % he said to himself, as he
drew a chair to her bedside and sat
down.
"Do tell me, ma am, how you came
here?" he said.
"Well, sir, 1 suppose must say that
poverty brought me here" replied the
woman; ''but as 1 am Kings child,
1 dislike very much to talk about pov-
erty.'
"What! What! You a Kings child,
and yet living in Water Street, up two
flights of stairs and with such misera-
BILE people around you ?''
" Yes, sir,'' answered the invalid,
with smile. 81 am a Kings child.
The King of Heaven is my Father, and,
you know, He giveth His angels charge
u.s. and, with angels ever
around me, 1 am always in pleasant
company. / know am what the world
calls very poor, but, really, can not
make myself feel that am very poor,
for every day my Father, the King, says
to me 'All things are yours, and 1 tell
Him every day that He sees just how it
is with me- And OH sir, 1 get such
sweet answers. He says that He will
never leave nor forsake me, and He |
tells me to CONSIDER the lilies how they
grow He takes all the care of me,
sir, and / don't borrow any trouble. |
Even in this world He is going to do |
more abundantly than l can ask or
think and up yonder there's mansion
waiting for me. l often look out of my |
window and up into the sky, On beau |
tiful night like this, and say to myself:
8 It's up there! It's up there!'"
How can you knit stockings, ma am,
with those poor fingers of yours, so bent |
with the rneumatism? asked Mr.. |
Claverhouse, as he noticed a little stock |
ing on needles lying by her pillow.
sob! I'm knitting pair of stockings |
for sick child on the next floor-a cry |
ing baby, whose little feet are always |
bare. 1 saved the money from two dol
lars that were given me and bought Il
little yarn. 1 ought to do something for |
the poor, you know, when so much is
done for me.''
John Claverhousc moved restlessly in |
his chair and left suddenly, after prom