The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1881-04-07
THE LOST L1NCH-PIN.

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have to take the whipping"
There was detected thrill in the sad
child-voice, telling alike of the physical
dread and of utter hopelessness of spirit.
''Wait minute, Robbie answered a
cheerier tone. ''Wait until l look under
the hay bed. a Inch pins little, you
know, and it might roll. I can't bear to
give up yet" And as the girl spoke she
swung her lantern under the huge Ye-
hicle, and stopping, began to search care
fully among the loose chaff and wisps OF
hay scattered over the floor.
The scene was the threshing floor of a
large barn, with great mows frowning
darkly above on either hand, and vast
granaries stretching away in the rear, and
the speakers were little orphan boy who
had lost linch-pin, and the sympathetic
kitchen girl of the farm. AS the latter
rose from her fruitless search the bright
glow of the lantern fell full upon her, re-
vealing a face, not pretty, certainly, if
viewed from a cultivated, artistic stand
point, but fresh and girlirh, and just
now, glorifed by a halo of womanly pity.
ooh, Robbie! I'm so sorry" she said
rising. "Can't you think where you had
it last?"
''No, Sue, L can't. I've tried and
tried. I reckon old Beeson will nearly
kill me--he did the last time" Then
with a shudder, throwing his childish
arms around her waist, "Oh, Sue, he's
awful"
"Poor baby" cried the girl, clasping
him closer, while her soft, gray eyes fill
ed with tears. 81 wish [ could save you.
How did you ever come to be left with
him, anyhow
"Why. you see, was the reply, "when
mother died there was only me and Chris,
and Chris. amt like me. He's strong
and smart, and afraid of nobody. So he
thought he would go away and make a
fortune for us both His name is Christie
pher-like Christopher Columbus, you
know-and he meant to do some great
thing, too. Not in a ship, though, but
in big city. He had read of poor boys
making money there, and as the home
stead was gone he was bound to try it.
And then old Beeson offered to keep me
while he was away. But Chris. never
meant for me to be abused. / heard him
say that I was to go to school, and be
well treated, and that he would pay for
my board and expenses when he come
back. But I reckon he'll never come,
now." And the poor child's tears fell
fast at the thought.
"Oh, maybe he will," answered the
girl, soothingly. "We'H hope so, any
way"
"Well, maybe" he assented drearily.
"But, o Sue; if L were only of age, like
you, wouldn't I go to seek him!" Then,
as if with sudden thought, 'sSue, what
makes you stay? You were of age six
months ago"
81 know" she said, and paused as if
the question was an unsettled one with
herself, then, with the light still upon
her brow, Partly for your sake, maybe,
Robbie, and partly because L don't know
where to go. don't mind working, and
L must do that in any place. Besides it
is better for me; I'm in the house with
Missis, and Robbie, she isn't like him.
Many a piece of bread and meat she
gives to the hungry beggars, and many
poor tramp she allows to sleep in the
barn when he amt around"
The last clause was unfortunate, for
the boy, clinging yet closer, cast shud-
dcring glance upward toward the great
mows where the shadows We're scarcely
disturbed by their feeble glow of light.
ooh, Sue!" he cried wildly. "What
if he should make me stay all night in the
barn? He has threatened to many time.
Oh, Sue, what can we do?
The poor excited boy sank down in
despair.
"We might pray" said Sue, timidly.
''Pshaw He prays."
There was whole volume of incipient
skepticism in these three bitter words.
81 know" answered Faith, sorely puz-
zled. yet clinging to her anchor. 81
know, but it don't sound like the prayers
[ used to hear at the 'sylum. There they
spoke to some one close at hand, SO gen.
tie, so 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 man in the den of lions, and the
three children in the fiery furnace
Its no use, Sue" he answered sadly.
''Fhere's no deliverer for me but Chris,
and he'll never come now. Go on to the
house and tell the old man that I can't
find it. It's as well to get it over"
Poor lamb!" said the tender hearted
SAAis hAo'AAASo eAAS 4ipS tLldb were
trying SO hard to be brave. I'll leave the
light, and I'll beg hard for you" And
repressing a sigh over the hopelessness
of her task, she glided into the starlight.
leaving the poor little victim to await a
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
darkest blots upon our social scale.
Just here must I pause to offer a plea
for the children, the most defenceless
objects in all Gods creation. We sigh
over the miseries of poor Smike, over lit
tie David Copperfeld's sorrowful jour
ney, alas! that magic hand which SO
moved us has vanished forever, but 1 can
match these thrilling narratives with true
stories of child rendered idiotic by con-