The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1882, Page 31

Transcription machine transcription, uncorrected

⤓ Download .txt · copy text

The Lutheran Pioneer.

31

A Good Strike.

In a Prussian roadside inn one hot Summer’s
day several men were smoking and drinking.
The room was dirty and uncared for, and the
men who looked quite in keeping with it, were
railing at the ways of Providence, and contrast-
ing the luxury and idleness of the rich with
the misery and hardship of the poor.

During the conversation a stranger, a young
man, came in to eat his bread and cheese while
his team rested in the shade before the inn.
For a time he listened silently to the talk, and
then joined in saying, ‘‘You must strike!’

“Strike against what?’’ asked the peasants.

“Against poverty!’’ answered the young
man, ‘‘and the weapon with which to strike is
work.’’

“Well said!’’ ‘‘Sensibly spoken!’’ laughed
the peasants.

“Tt would have been well for me had I al-
ways been as sensible,’’ continued the stranger,
‘but I used to be an idle rogue. I was strong
and healthy, but I would not work, and if now

~ and then I was obliged to do anything, I was
off at once to the alehouse, and like lightning
the money was out and the brandy wasin. I
went from place to place—that means, that
everywhere I was turned away, for no master
wants a loafer about. I’d soon had enough of
farm service, and then I went about to fairs
and public houses as a fiddler. Wherever any
one would hear me, I scraped my violin, but
with all my scraping I was never able to get a
whole shirt to my back. Soon I grew tired of
music and then tried begging. I went up and
-down the country, but most doors were shut in
my face. People said, a healthy young fellow
like I was ought to work. That enraged me.
I grumbled that God had not made me a rich
man, and I was envious of all who were better
off than myself. I would have liked to turn
the world upside down that I might have been
able to lord it over the rich- One day I went
into an: inn, sat down in a corner, and began
muttering my begging speeches. At a table
not far from me sat a gentleman (he is, as I
afterwards heard, a writer of books); he kept
glancing at me, and I kept glancing at him,
for I thought he would be sure to give mea
good alms, and so he did. I’m spending it still.’’

‘What was it?’’ asked the men, who had
listened attentively.

‘““He came up to me and asked me.about my
early life. I told him I had been a farm sery-
ant, and sent from place to place—in short, I
told him everything. He listened quietly,

shook his head, and at last said, ‘Show me
your, hand!’ Astonished, I held out my hands;
he examined them all over, pushed up my
sleeves, and again shook his head.

‘«©What powerful hands! What strength

‘My

there must be in those arms!’ he said.
Jad, you must join in the war.’

*6¢Tn what war?’ I asked.

‘««Tn war against your misery!’ he exclaimed
‘You fool, you imagine you

in a loud voice.

are poor—poor with such hands! What a mad
idea! He only is poor who is sick in body or
in mind. What! with such hands, poor! Set
your wits to work and reflect upon the treasure
God has given you in your strong healthy
limbs. Recover your senses and march for-
ward in the war’.’’

“Bravo! That was very good,’ laughed the
peasants.

“And so I joined in the war,’’ continued the
young man. “TI looked fora place, and now
Iam a farm servant as before—nothing better
and no richer; but I am content with the ways
of God and industrious, and I have served the
same master these five years, and shall stay
with him until one of us dies.’—From the
German.

——— + ee +

Taking all Freely.

A Kentucky lady, upon her return to the
home of her youth, after an absence of many
months, heard of the distressed condition of
‘*Old Aunt Peggy,’’ a colored woman who had
belonged to the -family. In the kindness of
her heart she immediately made arrangements
for her comfort, and started out in the rain to
find her. When Mrs. B. entered the wretched
hovel, Aunt Peggy, who was hovering over a
little fire in an old rusty, broken stove, ex-
claimed, ‘‘ Dear, now! if dar ain’t Miss Mary !’’
After an exchange of hearty greetings, Mrs. B.
said, ‘‘Oh, dear! how have you lived in this
condition !’’

‘‘Oh! de good Lord mi’te mindf’Il’bout me.
Sometimes I has nothin’ to eat, but den he
takes my appetite way from me, so I doesn’t
crave: nothin’; den I gits sleepy, en’ I dreams
mi'te pleasn’t. O, child! I takes it all freely!”’

“Well, but, Aunt Peggy, you have not a
dry spot in your shanty.”

‘Well, honey, I knows dat; but it don’t
seem to gim me no cold; den bless you! it
don’t rain eb’ry day.”’

Mrs. B., who by this time was very much
impressed that ‘‘ godliness with contentment”’
was truly ‘‘great gain,’’ said, x

“Well, Aunt Peggy, I will send for you this
afternoon. We have a nice little room fitted
up, and your wants shall be supplied as long as
you live.”’

Clasping her hands together, she fell down
upon her knees; and with tears of joy stream-
ing down her cheeks, she praised the Lord;
then, quieting down, said:

“Dar, now! didn’t I tell you I takes it all
freely? S'pose Aunt Peggy hadn’t been in
sich a fix, whar’d Miss Mary got sich a chance
to put another star in her crown? En’ I knows
it’s gwy’in to be sot full on ’em, ’kase you al-
ways proved your faith in de Saviour by being
good to us.””

oP 0 oe

Tar was a beautiful reply given by one in
affliction when he was asked how he bore it so
well. ‘It lightens the stroke,”’ said he, ‘to
draw near to Him who handles the rod.”

The Curate and the Bricklayer.

There is a lesson for a certain class of grum-
blers in the following incident. All clergymen
doing pastoral and missionary work have more
or less of just such duty to perform:

A Manchester curate walking along a street
in the dinner hour passed a lot of bricklayers
smoking their pipes, and he heard one of the
men say, “I'd like to be a parson and have
nowt to do but walk along in black coat and
carry a walking-stick in my hand, and get a
lot of brass.’’ There was an approving laugh .
all around, whereupon the curate turned quietly
around, and the following conversation ensued:
«So you would like to be a parson? How much
do you get a week?’’ ‘‘Twenty-seven shill-
ings.’ ‘Well, Iam not a rich man, but I will
give you twenty-seven shillings if you will
come with me for a week and see what my
work is like.’’ The bricklayer did not like the
proposal, but his mates told him it was a fair
offer and he was bound to accept it. So re-
luctantly he followed the parson down an alley.
“Where are you going?’”’ heasked. ‘‘To see
a sick parishioner,’ was the reply. ‘‘What is
the matter with him?’’ ‘Small pox.” At
that the man drew back. His wife and bairns
had never had the small pox, and he was afraid
of taking it to them. ‘My wife and bairns
have never had the small pox,’’ said the curate,
“come along.’? The man hesitated. ‘Oh,
but you promised to accompany me wherever
I went,” urged the curate. ‘‘And where be
you going next?’’ asked the bricklayer. ‘To
see a poor family huddled in one room, with
the father dead of scarlet fever in it, and them-
selves all down with it, and after that to see
another parishioner ill with typhus; and to-
morrow there will bea longer round.’ There-
upon the bricklayer begged to be let off.
Twenty-seven shillings would be poor pay for
that kind of work, and he promised he would
never speak against the parsons again.—Lich-
field Church.

2 > 2 a

The Infidel Blacksmith.

There was an infidel blacksmith who was al-
ways carping at professors of religion, especially
when he could get a Christian to talk to, or
knew there was one near enough to overhear
him. He would then talk with great relish
about the faults of this or that Christian. One
day he discussed his favorite theme to a ven-
erable elder who stopped to have his horse shod.
The good old man bore it quietly for a while,
and then he said to the blacksmith:

“Did you ever hear the story of the rich
man and Lazarus?”

‘Yes, of course I have.’’

“Remember about the dogs—at the gate
there—how they licked Lazarus’ sores?”’

“Yes; why?” ‘

‘Well, you remind me of those dogs—always
licking sores. All you notice in Christians is
their faults.”