The free press., 1895-08-15

D"o 'toH 1uluh yOu ueCQ 10 Do
comparin' your own child to a little
negro, Seab," his wife remarked, wip-
ing her eyes on corner of her apron,
as she rose to put the meat back over
the fire.
He's human bein', as said, Jane,
an lowed I'd fetch him out home
with me to sorter be comp'ny for you
an help you bout the house when l
amt at home"
''You do beat all, Seab; you GER
tainly do, she declared, in softened
tone. 81 couldn't begin to count the
stray cats and lame dogs you've
fetched home with you to be comp'ny
for me, and now this pore little chap.
What's your name?" she demanded of
the little fellow He had removed the
old hat and stood twisting it around in
his hands.
''My names Scrap, ma'am, said the
Uoy, tluulItly.
"Nothin' else?"
"No'm."
"Well, I'll declare! Come up to
the fire an sit down on that stool in
the corner. You must be plum froze
in them rags. Did I ever? They're
worse than patchwork quilt, they're
in SO many pieces. How old air
you?"
"Mos' twelve"
"Twelve, an you amt bigger than
child seven or eight. No wonder
you're called Scrap. Sit right down
an eat this hot potato. He's been
half starved, most likely" she NUT
tered as she dished up the supper.
Scrap smiled to himself and went
out to get some wood for the fire.
1t was strange new world to the
little boy. He sat down and spread
his small, chilly hands before the fire,
watching the flames leap up the wide,
black chimney with fascinated eyes.
He didn't have much to say to his
new friends, but when the cat came
purring around his legs he picked itup
and stroked it softly. He was given
warm, abundant supper, and when Mrs.
Heath saw him swaylng drowsily on
his stool she brought out little
trundle bed and prepared it for him.
81 don't know as 1 ought'r do it
Seab," she said hesitatingly.
"He's human bein', Jane, an it
can't hurt Matthew if he sleeps in that
bed. We aih't got no other place
nowhere.
So Scrap lay down on clean bed
with the cat curled up against his back
and the freight dancing on the walls,
aud the stiffness of the wide, dark
country spreading out all around him.
1t was such strange silence and
darkness to the child who had never
known anything but the sights and
sounds of city with its crowded, gas
lighted streets and crowded houses.
He might have been homesick if he
had not had that great blazing fire,
that delicious warmth sending him to
sleep as soon as he had eaten his sup
per.
On Sunday Mr.. Heath found Scrap
sitting on the bench in the sunshine
Mt the south side of the house, with the
big Bible open on his knees. Mr..
Heath had bought that Bible from
book agent, and it was full Of highly
colored prints.
"Lookin' at the pictures, Scrap"'
81 was readin' bout where Isaac's
pa took him to be crucified."
Sacrificed, amt it?" corrected Mr..
Heath, sitting down ON the bench at
his side. "Do you mean to say that
you can read, boy?" looking at him
with something'of awe.
ga little, sir.
That was the beginning OF a new oc-
cupation for Scrap during the winter
evenings. Mrs. Heath could not read
either, SO while her husband sat at
one corner of the hearth feeding
fresh pine knot to the fire occasional
ly, and she sat on the other side with
her knitting, the boy occupied his
stool between them, the Bible open on
his knees. He had to read very slow
ly, one thin black forefinger travelling
over the page to guide his eye. Often
he had to stumble over the hard words
or skip them altogether. But his au-
ditors didn't mind that. They were
4 n