St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1886-09-11
A GOOD LESSON.

Sam Wadley.s Manly and Heroic Way of
Making Reparation.
..The good lands! what's that!"
excitedly cried frightened Aunt Deb
orah.
Aunt Deborah might well exclaim in
surprise. For as she sat knitting quiz
etly and humming a quaint old tune
of long ago, one she had learned as
child-c-r-rash! bang! came a stone
into the room. shivering the window
pane, just missing the swinging lamp
in the hallway, making an ugly scar
on the cabinet, and breaking into
fragments handsome vase. Then, as
if satisfied with the mischief it had
done. it rolled lazily across the floor.
and finally stopped under the table, an
inert, jagged bit of granite.
Aunt Deborah, as the stone pursued
its reckless course, placed her hands
over her head and shrank back into
her chair, frightened and unwilling
witness to the destruction of her prop
erty. 1t was quite distressing. Be-
SluCS Vic uCkN Nouo SuoShs lHCIC VSo tuV
broken window; there was the cabinet
showing 4 great white dent that could
not easily be removed; and there, too,
was the vase she had kept so many
long years. lying shattered and ruined
before her eyes.
Aunt Deborah was one of the best
and most kind-hearted of women; but
she was human, and the sudden
havoc wrought by the missile exasper-
rated rs well as frightened her. She
rushed to the window and opened it in
time to see three or four boys scamper-
ing down the street as fast as their legs
could carry them.
"Oh, you young scapegracesT she
cried. IF l could once lay hold on
You, wouldn't teach you lesson"
But the boys never stopped until
they had disappeared around friend
" corner. Aunt Deborah was so over
come by the accident. and so intent on
watching the retreating boys to whom
she desired to teach lesson, that she
did not at first notice barefooted lad
standing under the window on the
pavement below. holding battered
old hat in his hand. and looking up at
her with a scared face and fearful
eyes.
please, Miss" said the boy. tremu-
lously.
..Oh! Who are you? Who threw
that stone at my Window called out
Aunt Deborah. as she spied him.
..Please, Miss" pleaded the boy,
fumbling nervously his torn hat, II
threw it, but didn't mean to do it y
Didn't mean to do it, eh?' replied
Aunt Deborah, fiercely. II suppose
the stone picked itself up and pitched
itself through my glassr'
Il was going to throw it down the
street. but Bill Philper touched my
arm, and it turned and hit your win
dow" he explained.
There was an air of frankness and
truth about the boy. and the fact that
he had not run away like the others
(whom, somehow, Aunt Deborah held
chiefly responsible for the outrage).
caused her to relent little toward
him.
.Come in here" she said, after eye
ing him closely for a moment
The lad hesitated; but summoning
AZ his courage. he went up the steps,
and soon stood in her presence.
do you see that" she said, point
ing at the window" and that" "-(at
the cabnet)-" that?"-(at the
broken vase)-"and that?"-at the
stone.) "Now, isn't that fine per-
formance?"
Il am very SORRY" said the boy, the
faor- wolIinU into his eyaS AGAIN
Now, what's to be done. about it?'
asked she.
II don't know, ma'am." said he,
very ill at ease. II will try to pay you
for it"
"What can you pay, should like
to know?" she said, glancing at his
patched coat and trousers and his torn
hat.
II sell papers," said he; "and I can
pay you little on 1T every week"
What's your name?" She asked.
"Sam Wadley," answered the boy.
"Have you father?"
mo, ma'am," replied Sam; ''he'i
dead"
"Have you a mother?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"What does she do?" continued Aun
Deborah.
..She sews, and I help her all I can
selling papers.
'.How can you pay me any thing
then?'
please, ma'am. I'll tell mother al
about it, and she'll be willing for me +
pay you all make"