Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1888-10-10
.The Stury Tellet.
ALWAYS Gliding.

den to his wife one morning, as he sat eat
ing his breakfast, land that wOn'tdO. How
goes the time? Oh! | have left my watch
upstairs; fetch it for me, Eliza, will your"
At this moment a bright-eyed, rosy
checked, good-te,npered looking boy of
thirteen years Of age started up, saying:
81 will fetch it for you, Eliza," when
John Holden, with an austere and suspi-
cious look, turned sharply around exclaim-
ing:
"You, sir? Stay where you are. l
asked Eliza to bring it to me. You might
possibly be saying it was not there"
The boy cast a resentful look at his faith
er-his color came and went, his eyes
flashed, then hot tears stood in them, and
he left the room. At this moment the
watch was brought by Eliza, the boys Sis
ter. Holden took it, put it in his pocket,
and saying to his wife, "Send that boy to-
the shop directly after me-" took his de-
parture also.
twill you never learn to forget and for
give? Where is my dear boy ?" she said,
turning to her daughter.
"He is gone upstairs, mother; he is 60
ing directly"
John Holden was an upright man, but a
stern and relentless one; he was a tanner
by trade, and had worked for many years
for DIR. Darke, the Quaker, or, as he was
generally called "Quaker Darke." The
son had for the last eight months found
employment there also. On one occasion,
six months ago, young Henry Holden
had, under the influence of great tempta-
ton, stolen a shilling from his father to 60
to see some riders who were exhibiting in
the town in which he lived. The boy had
not been found out, but in a few days
afterward had, in deep sorrow and true
contrition, confessed his fault. John Hol-
den had promised forgiveness; but with
such an iron nature as his, forgive is not to
forget, and but too frequently the poor
boy, despite his sorrow and shame, was
reminded, tainted and ~upbraided with
the sin of which he had been guilty,
though no repentance, and that we grieve
to say the father knew too we'll, could be
more genuine. On the present occasion
the mother followed her son up stairs; he
was in his bedroom weeping bitterly.
"Henry, my boy" said she tenderly, lit
is time you went to work" :
Eyes" answered the lad, drying his
eyes; "but, mother, l want to ask you one
question"
"Well, my son."
"Did father really think this morning
that there was any danger of his losing
OF my Steallng MS Watcn ~
mo, my son, that he did not he knows
better than that"
"Then why" said the boy, his lips
quivering, and the torrent Of tears again
burst forth, "is he always talking as ii l
were not to be trusted-as if | were a
thief? / may as we'll be one in reality.
Oh, mother, mother" continued he, "let
me 60 away, let ME go to sea; anywhere,
for / cannot bear thiS.o
my dear Henry, be patient; l will talk
to your father"
"You have talked to him, l know you
have, and yet he does it; he will always
do it. Oh, mother, motherm
The mother and son were weeping to-
gether.
81 will talk to him once more, darling ;
for my sake, cheer up. You know how
dearly your mother loves you don't talk
of leaving her; of going to sea. Your
father loves you dearly too, [ am sure he
does; but you know his nature, how long
it takes him to forget anything, but you
must remember that he is your father,
and not be too much cast down by it.
There, now, goodbye, dear Henry keep
a brave heart"
The boy kissed his mother and departed.
Mrs. Holden went about her household
duties that day witha heavy heart. How
she mourned over this trait in her hus'
bands character! She had pleaded with
him again and again that he would say nc
more about the sin which had caused her.
self and dear boy so much sorrow, and
which had been so truly and bitterly re-
p%entedof, but as yet without avail. Again
and again it was brought up, and in a ma
ture less hopeful, less akin to her own
the seeds of truth and candor might have
been forever destroyed in that bosom, and
distrust, deceit, and the darker passions O.
our poor human nature reigned paramount
there instead but as it was, the mothers
tenderness saved the boy.
II WONDER" said the Quaker, looking
at him, "whether thee could do a little err
rand for me this morning? 1t is a matter
of some Importance. Could | trust thee
dost thou Think"
~ will do my best, sir"
"Thou hast been weeping, l see. Thine
eyes are swollen with crying. Thou has
not been doing anything wrong, l hope
and 50 brought disgrace and punishment
upon thyself?"
This was too much for Henry he AGAR
wept violently.
'Calm thyself, Henry, and tell me wha
it is"
"Indeed, sir, I will tell you the whole
TRUTH" sobbed the poor child: "Si'
months ago, or more, l took a shilling be
longing to father. 1t was very wrong,
know; but l wanted to 90 and sec thu
riders. In a day or two afterwards | con
fessed it, for l was very unhappy and mis-
cradle. Father said he would forgive me
but he does not seem to have done so, TO
he is always Gliding me for it, and bring
ing it up against me even now"
twas it thy first offense" asked thu