The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1895, Page 43

Transcription machine transcription, uncorrected

⤓ Download .txt · copy text

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?’

‘¢<Friends!’ he shouted.
but if these ’ere rags’—and
he waved his arms about as
he spoke—‘won’t speak for
me, nothing else will.’’’

—_——s>-+o-<P oro

In China.

When babies in China are a month old they

‘Yes, I will hear you sing your little hymn.’’| have their first birthday party. Their heads

He raised himself on his elbow and then sang:
“Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,
Look upon a little child,
Pity my simplicity,
Suffer me to come to Thee.
“Fain would I to Thee be brought,
Gracious Lord, forbid it not;
In the kingdom of Thy grace,
Give a little child a place.”

“That’s the little hymn, sir. Good-by.”

The gentleman hurried away for restora-
tives and help, came back again in less than
two hours, and climbed the ladder. ‘There
were the chips, there were the shavings, and
there was the little motherless boy with one
hand by his side and the other tucked in his

are shaved, and they are dressed in no end ~

of clothing, just the same shape as grown-up
people’s, consisting of trousers and jacket,
and a cap which so completely covers them
that you can only see part of a tiny face.
About four o’clock the guests arrive. All are
supposed to give a present—a toy, clothing,
or a piece of silver wrapped in red paper.
When any of our Christians have a “‘party”’
of this kind they invite the missionaries, and
we have to eat all kinds of funny things, such
as birds’-nest soup, which is very good, sharks’
fins, and eggs that have been buried for years
and have turned black, using, of course,, not
knives and forks, but chopsticks.
Children's World.

“No, I ain’t got no friends; .