# The Lutheran Pioneer_St. Louis_1895_S43 # Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration) The Lutheran Pioneer. 43 “Well, if all men were really Christians, in practice as well as theory, of course we should be a happy brotherhood indeed.’’ ‘‘T promised you,’’ said the reader, ‘‘that I would abide by your answers; will you do the same?’’ “Oh, yes,” he readily replied; ‘no man can deny the goodness of the system in prac- tice; but now for the other question; perhaps I shall get on better with that; you have got a chalk this time against me.’’ ‘Well, my next question is this, Suppose all men were infidels, what then would be the state of our city and of the world?’’ He seemed still more perplexed, and remained silent a long time. At length he said: ‘*You certainly have beaten me, for I never before saw “Did you ever steal?”’ - ‘Yes, sir; I was a street-thief once.’’ ‘‘And why won’t you steal any more?”’ ‘Please, sir, I went to the mission school, and they told me there of God and of heaven and of Jesus, and they taught me, ‘Thou shalt not steal,’ and I’ll never steal again, if my father kills me for it. But, please, don’t tell him.’’ “My boy, you mustn’t stay here. You'll die. Now you wait patiently here for a little time. I’m going away to seealady. We will get a better place for you than this.’’ “Thank you, sir; but, please, sir, would you like to hear me sing my little hymn?’’ SA the two effects upon society ; mB x Inow see that where the Chris- tian builds up, the infidel is pulling down. I thank you; I shall think of what has passed this afternoon.’’ J. H. H. 0-2 @ > ee An Affecting Scene. A Christian, seeking for ob- jects of charity, reached the upper room of a tenement house. It was vacant. He saw a ladder pushed through a hole in the ceiling. Thinking that perhaps some poor creature had crept up there, he climbed the ladder, drew himself through the hole, and found himself under the rafters. + There was no light but that which came through a bull’s eye in the place of a tile. Soon he saw a heap of chips and shavings, and on them lay a boy about ten years old. ‘*Boy, what are you doing here?”’ “Hush, don’t tell anybody, please, sir.’’ ‘“What are you doing here?’’ “Hush, please, don’t tell anybody, sir; I’m a-hiding.”’ ‘What are you hiding for?’’ ‘Don’t tell anybody, please, sir.’’ “Where’s your mother?’’ . ‘Please, sir, mother’s dead.’”’ ““Where’s your father??? “Hush, don’t tell him. But look here.’ He turned himself on his face, and through the rags of his jacket and shirt the visitor Saw that the boy’s flesh was terribly bruised, _ and his skin was broken. “Why, my boy, who beat you like that?” ‘Father did, sir.’? ‘What did he beat you for?”’ “Father got drunk, sir, and beat me ’cos I wouldn’t steal.’ JOB'S WELL IN PALESTINE. Motherless, friendless, bruised, battered, forlorn, hiding from an infuriated father, he had a little hymn to sing. bosom—dead. He who said, ‘‘Suffer little children to come unto me,’’ did not say ‘‘re- spectable children,”’ or ‘‘well-educated chil- dren.’’ No, He sends His messengers into the homes of poverty and sin and crime, where you do not like to go, and brings out His chil- dren, and they are as stars in the crown of rejoicing to those who have been instrumental in enlightening their darkness. —I. B. G. Eloquent Rags. We often speak of the spiritual destitution’ and moral degradation, the crimes and in- famies and woes of heathen- dom, as being a loud appeal to Christians for the bestowal of sympathy and effort, of men and money, to rescue the perishing. The following in- cident is an illustration of this silent, but eloquent voice. Talking about the way boys were admitted to his Home, Dr. Barnardo, of London, said to an interviewer: “T was standing at my front door one bitter day in winter, when a little ragged chap came up to me and asked me for an order of admission. To test him, I pretended to be rather rough with him. *¢*Ffow do I know,’ I said, ‘if what you tell me is true? Have you any friends to speak for you?’ ‘¢-+o-