Year: 1863




sad to bis bed, the father sat restless and
uneasy while supper was being prepared,
and at tea-table ate but little. His wife
saw the real cause pr the additional cause of
Of bis emotioa, and interpose1 the remark:


II think, my dear, you ought at least to
have heard what Henry had to say. My
heart ached for him when he turned away
with his eyes full Of tears. Henry is good
boy, after all, he does sometimes do wrong.
He always was. ..tI


And therewithal the water stood in the
eyes OF that forgiving mother. even as it
stood in the eyes Of Mercy in ''thc house Of
the Interpreter as recorded by Bunyan.


After tea the evening paper was taken
up, but there was no news aud nothing of
Interest for that father iHsthe journal ofthat
evening He sat for scAs time in an evil
dently painful revere, aud then rose and
repaired to his bed chamber. As he pass
ed the bed room where his little boy slept
he thought he would look in upon him be.
fore retiring to rest. He crept to his low
cot and bent over him. A big tear had
stolen down the boys cheek and rested up
on it, but he was sleeping calmly and sweet
y. The father deeply regretted his harsh
ness as he gazed upon his son, but he felt
also the sense Of duty" yet in the night,
talking the matter over with the lad 8 moth
er, he resolved and promised, instead of
furnishing, as he had threatened, to make
amends to the boys aggrieved spirit in the
morning for the manner in which he had re-
PEELED all explanation Of his offence


But that morning never came to the poor
child in health. He awoke the next morn.
ing with raging fever on his brain, aud
wild with delirium. In forty-eght hours
he was in his shroud. He knew neither his
father nor his mother when they were first
called to his bed side, nor at any moment
atterward. Waiting. watching for one to-
ken Of recognition, hour after hour, in
speechless agony, did that unhappy father
bend over the couch of his dying son. Once,
indeed, he thought he saw a smile of recog
milton light up his dying eye, and he leaned
eagerly forward, for he would have given
worlds to have whispered one kind word in
his ear and have been answered; but that
CLEAN of apparent intelligence passed quick
ly away, and was succeeded by the cold, un
meaning glare aud the wild tossing of the
fevered limbs, which lasted till death came
to his relief.


Two days afterward the undertaken came
with the little coffin, and his son, play
mate of the DECEASED boy, bringing the low
stools ON which it was to stand in the entry
hall. n4.u.


Il was with Henry" said the lad, "when
he got into the water. We were playing
down at the Long Wharf, Henry and
Frank Mumford and /; and the tide was out
very low, and there was beam run out from
the warf, and Charles got out on it to get a
fish line and hook that hung oyer where the
'wssor-was decpy aud the htsc ming We saw
he had slipped off and was struggling in the
waterI Henry threw off his cap and jump
ed clear from the wharf into the water, and
after great deal of hard work got Charles
out, and they waded up through the mud
to where the wharf was not so wet and slip
perry, and then helped them to climb up
the side. Charles told Henry not to say
anything about it, for if he did his father
would never let him 90 near the water again.
Henry was very sorry, aud oil the way home
he kept saying:


"What will father say when he secs me
tonight? l wish We had not gone to the
wharf," Hi-


Dear, brave boyl" exclaimed the be-
reayed father: land this is the explanation
which SO cruelty refused to heail" And
hot and bitter tears rolled down his cheeks.


Yes, that stern father now learned, and
for the first time, that what he had treated
with unwonted severity as fault was but
the impulse of q generous nature, which,
forgetful Of self, had hazarded lite For au-
other. 1t was but che qHick txompting of
that manly spirit which he himself had al
ways endeavored to graft upon his suscept-
ible mind, and which, young as he was, had
already manifested itself on more than one
occasion. -


Let me close this story in the very words
of that father, and let the lesson sink deep
into the heart of every parent who shall pc
ruse this sketch: ai Mt1 aoaI.


Everything that I now see that belonged
to him reminds me Of my lost boy. Yes
terday I found some rude pencil sketches,
which it was his delight to make for the
amusement, Of his younger brother. To-day,
in rummaging an old closet, came across
his boots, still covered with dock-mud, as
when he last wore them. You may think
it strange, but that which is usually SO un-
slightly an object is now most precious to
me. And every morning and evening l
pass the ground where my sons voice rang
the merriest among his playmates,


"All these things speak to me wildly Of
his active life, but cannotH-though have
OIten tTleu-f ChuuUb IcUul IVY OtuoT tx-
preston on the dear boys faos than that
mute, mournful one With which he turned
from me on the night l so harshly repulsed
him, iii*
Then my heart bleeds afresht e.


"Ohl how careful should we ali bo that
In our daily conduct towards those little be-
'ings sent us by kind Providence. we are
not laying up for ourselves the sources of
many q, future bitter tear! How cadtious
chat, neither by inconsiderdte nor cruel
word or look, we unjustly erieve their gem
erous feelingl And how euardedly ought
we to weigh every sction against its motive,
lest, in moment of excitement, we be led
to mete out to the veniai errors Of the hesrt
the punishment due only to willful crimsl


"Alas! perhaps, few parents suspect how
often the fierce rebuke, the sudden blow, is
answered in their children by the tears, not
of passion, not OF physical OF mental pain,
but Of loving yet grieved or outraged ma
ture." .G ~ 2H'1ur lLraa


But why in this case should not the moth
or be called to weep tears of blood, and be
considered partaker Of tho fsther's fault2
II was for the criminal want of Judgment
and considerable OH her part. The father
had come home wearied and discouraged in
connection with the business of the day,
was sitting by the fire in moody state Of