The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1910, Page 62

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62 The Lutheran Pioneer.

After Many Days.

Somewhere near the year 1838, a warm-hearted
young Christian gentleman, William G. by name,
a student.in Oxford Academy, New York, noticed

upon the village streets a bright, active little col-

ored girl of about eight or nine years of age.

Mr, G. called the child. to him and asked her
if she could read.

“No, sah, there’s no place for us,” was the reply.

“Come to my room,” pointing out the house,
“before nine in the morning or after four in the
afternoon and I will teach you to read. Will you

come?” moe

“Yes, sah,” was the reply, the white teeth glis-
tening and the black eyes sparkling with delight.
So prompt and studious was the queer little pupil
that she soon mastered the alphabet and in a short
time was reading quite fluently. Now the question
arose, what could be done with the child? She
ought to attend Sunday school, but who would re-
ceive her?

The church in the village was small and Mr. G.

* superintendent of its Sunday school; but among
all his teachers he could not hope that one would
welcome the poor child unless, indeed, Miss 2
the most intelligent and cultured lady in the school,
would take her. He asked the question.

“JT will take anyone who has a soul to save,”
was the Christ-like answer.

So Sarah Mason became a member of Miss s
class, and ere long was a happy young convert as
the result of her faithful instruction and earnest
prayers. ;

Twenty years passed by and reading the list of
missionaries who sailed for Africa Mr. G. saw the
name of Sarah Mason. He did not associate this
missionary’s name with the little waif he had be-
friended so long ago, and the years rolled by.

Not long ago a venerable colored man came to
the office of Esquire G. to bear to him a message
of thanks from his daughter, Sarah Mason, who
had gone home to the mansion which Christ had
gone to prepare for her, from the mission field in
Africa. After many years of labor home and rest
were very sweet to her, but before she went she

wished messages to be sent to the friend who had
turned her feet into the way of life.

A Christian gentleman in Cortland had supple-
mented the good work begun in Oxford and -the
bright young colored girl was educated for the

>

mission field of the benighted land of her fore-
fathers.

It was great joy for those who had simply fol-
lowed the dictates of a loving Christian heart to
know that such fruit should appear “after many
days.” And so, perhaps, with other weary toilers
looking back upon what may seem fruitless lives,
somewhere the seed which they have sown in tears
may be germinating and growing into fruit-bearing
trees of life.

———_——>

“Father Knows.”

A merchant was one day opening a box of goods.
His little son was standing near; and as his father
took the packages from the box, he laid some of
them upon the arm of the boy. A young friend
and playmate of the merchant’s son was standing
by looking on. As parcel after parcel was laid upon
the arm of the boy, his friend began to fear his
load was becoming too heavy, and said —

“Johnny, don’t you think you’ve got as much
as you can bear?”

“Never mind,” answered Johnny, in a sweet,
happy tone; “father knows how much I can carry.”

Brave, trusting little fellow! He did not grow
restless or impatient under the burden. ‘There was
no danger, he felt, that his father would lay too
heavy a load on him. More than all, his father
loved him, and therefore would not harm him. It
is such a spirit of loving trust.in Him that God
desires all His children to possess.

The Skeptic.

A number of guests were sitting on the veranda
of a summer hotel, talking, among other things,
also of churches.

“T am a skeptic,” said one young man, in a
haughty strain. :

“An epileptic?” asked an old lady somewhat
hard of hearing. “Poor boy! You look like it,
so you do.” While the others smiled, the young
man looked rather sheepish.

The Miser.

They were speaking of a miser who had just
died. “Did he leave anything?” asked Smith.
“He had to,” was the short reply of Mr. Jones.

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