The central Presbyterian. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1856-1908, 1882-03-22
Joseph Harding's Story.

| had been so long accustomed to being
called good-for-nothing," know
nothing" =" fool" and " blockhead," that
these names seemed to belong to me as
much as my real one, which was Joseph
Harding. Moreover, | wrestled with
two odd problems: Was really de-
fcient in mental power? The kicks and
and blows 1 had received had increased
with my strength, and | had endured
them with dumb fortitude, Were physi-
cal and heart suffering always to be the
price [ was expected to pay for the
meagre board and few scanty clothes
received?
Had my parents lived, doubtless l
should not have been as ignorant on these
minor points; but boy who has only
breathed the foul air of an almshouse
five years, and is then turned upon the
cold, wide world to earn his own living
is mere cipher at best, and gropes his
way slowly to the light. When l was
little past twelve, the overseers of the
poor found me home with Aaron Brun.
ley. He was a grasping, narrowsouled
farmer, who exacted for what was done
for me all the labor he could get out Of
my flesh and bones. One morning he
rode over to Harrowgate with his fami
ly, to pass the day.
Joe, said he, grufly, before he left
after the cattle are foddered, you may
have the time till get back, to play. ]
suppose you'd shirk work any way"
Well, it is nicer to have little play.
time given one, than to have to plan t.
get it, | responded simply.
This was the first leisure had had
offered me for months Twice I had slyly
slipped t-of the corn field to talk witt
Henry Dow, but this fragment of pleas
ure came at the expense of a severe
fogging.
As soon as the Brunley family. were
fairly out of sight, hurried through my
work, and then turned my thoughts to
reimbursement.
The great world was full of light and
Joy to others, while I looked out from
behind the prison bars of dark cruel
fate. Oh if I could get away from the
Brunley family, and all the hateful in
fuences surrounding me- Was that
possible? Could not take advantage OF
Mr.. Brunley' absence, and find my way
into another place, and have happier
g. life? AS I inwardly questioned, sud
den impulse seemed to be given to my
wits, hitherto regarded so deficient. An
odd, seductive plan to gain money seized
me. could hardly read the easiest
primer, yet somehow 1 had gained the
idea that money is mighty power. !
remembered seeing an old man with the
words on his hat, Help the blind,
begging at Mrs. Spaulding's door, and
she had lister Ell pityingly to his tale of
woe, and had given him two dollar bill.
She was a rich, benevolent woman, liv-
ing about mile away, and if she gave
generously to the blind man, perhaps by
a little scheming 1 could induce her to
give money to me. To resort to dis
stimulation and artifce is always wicked,
but as yet no moral light had reached my
soul.
Five minutes of thought and labor
transformed me in appearance into
veritable beggar. put on an old, rag
ged suit of clothes, and hat half robbed
of its rim. Then I blackened my eye
brows and eyes lashes with SCOT, and
pulled my hair far over my forehead. A
small crutch had long lain in the attic
l. LILO pun uHhCl my al dlu Will NY
left foot carefully tied up to the knee,
under my pants, took near cut across
the fields to Mrs. Spaulding's house She
was in the side yard surveying her flow
ers. Slowly l hobbled towards her,
leaning heavily on my crutch.
Please, ma am" was my piteous
entreaty I am very poor, and Grip
pie. Will you give me little job Of
work p
What can you do Z? kindly inquired
the good woman. You are very lame
hardly able to work"
You see, ma'am, my leg has given
out, but | can do anything that takes
only hands. They are strong and will
ing, and / must earn my living or starve,
said l, in detected tone
Poor boy I am very sorry for you.
How did you become so very lame2f
l fell from a scafold FIVE years ago,
and have never walked a step without a
crutch since"
Where do you liye2"
Nowhere"
Haven't you any parents or friends ?"
No, ma am The sky above me is
my only home, and the ground is often