Madison times. (Tallulah, Madison Parish, La.) 1884-1???, 1885-07-25
OUR SERMON.

1t was sad-faced, weary looking little
fellow.
He couldn't have been more than .lalf
dozen years old.
The basket he carried was so big he could
have crawled into it and hidden out of sight
The sun watsta at high noon, and its rays
fell in fiery golden beams upon the streets.
The little match peddler trudged on. In
and out of stores, over the blistering pave
ments pattered his small bare feet.
Nobody wanted lucifers on day so sug-
| gestive of the cline which is intimately as
sociated with the match trade.
Still the piping little voice cried out in
an almost pitiful wall:
| "Please buy some Matches"
Harshly and unkindly was he rebuffed by
nearly everyone.
With look of almost despair upon his
thin features the little merchant of the side
walk took a position by telegraph pole at
he street corner, and in a sort of mechanical
way cried C p. IS the people passed:
| Matches! IF" ee boxes for nickel"
| For an hour the childish trebble smote the
ears Of the passers-by, but no one noticed
him, but passed on as if the picturesque fig
ure by the telegraph post was but soulless
lump Of clay.
! A silver-haired old woman, with face
beaming with benevolence and goodness
came across the street.
Her spectacled gray eyes sought the sad
face of the boy.
Quickly she was at his side, and her wrin-
killed. old hand was laid upon the little tow
head.
"Why, my poor little man," she said
sweetly and kindly. Let me have some of
your matches. You look so tired and sad.''
The kind-hearted old lady dropped quar-.
ter into the basket, spoke encouragingly,
took her package and moved slowly away.
How that little fellows face frightened
How tightly his thin fingers clutched the
first coin that had touched them in the
whole day.
Icouldn't help thinking as looked upon
the scene how like an oasis in the desert OF
that boys existence came the kindly word:
of that dear old woman in the spectacles
and how few and how far between they
were to the hungry and thirsty soul of the
little wayfarer on the dusty, heated CONNER
cial pathway.
Out of the thousands who heard his plead
ing voice and looked into his wistful eyes
but one feeble old woman's heart wa:
touched. One kindly soul shed drop Of
dew upon the parched and suffering little
human flower.
o 1t was not the silver coin. but the tendel
caress of kindly hand and the soft solici
tude of the dear old voice that stirred the
heart of the little matcn peddler.
In after years when pictures of the celes
tial world are unfolded to his view by th'
panoramic picturing of the divines, ant
the angels are painted with sylph-likt
forms soaring about like butterflies anC
touching the strings of the harpsichord witt
snowy fingers, the mind CT the boy will run
back to this day, and a silver-haired ole
woman in spectacles will rise up, and hi
heart will tell him of such are the angel:
made.
In life her hands stretched ont to the poo
and mccoy, and her voice was tuned to chez
and soOthe the sufferers by the wayside.
True" he will say. ''Of such Goo
makes his angels, but the divineS mak'
theirs as the artist does his pictures-t'
look beautiful, and soar in elysian fields o
idleness and bliss while thousands OF tn
human family are suffering and pershng il
, the world below.