390 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
was particularly happy when allowed to sleep 
with the old people, and it was only granted as 
a special favor. One night, they heard him pat¬ 
tering into their bed-room, but said nothing; and 
he soon called out: 
“Gran’pa! don’t you hear little feet a com¬ 
ing?” 
“Go back! you’re a Whig. We can’t have 
any Whigs here,” was the reply. 
Charley stood a moment; the struggle was 
evidently a hard one, but the temptation was 
too strong; a circumstance known, perhaps, to 
many older than he, he gave up his principles 
to secure a personal end. 
The next day, at dinner, his grandpa men¬ 
tioned his conversion: 
“You was a Loco last night, at any rate !” 
“ Oh, it was dark, then!” responded the child; 
as ready with an excuse as any other politician. 
We have, in the family of which I am an in¬ 
mate, a darling little fellow of three summers, 
who often puzzles the old heads. We had had 
a fall of snow through the day, which passed 
away during the night; little Georgie was gaz¬ 
ing intently out of the window, the next morn¬ 
ing, when lie suddenly broke silence with : “ Ma, 
it’s gone!” 
“ What’s gone, Georgie ?” 
. “ The snow, Ma!” 
“ What’s become of the snow, Georgie ?” 
“It’s gone—gone to God’s house; God knows 
how to malcc snow.” 
At another time he was promised by a beg¬ 
gar-woman that when she came again, she would 
bring him a little rosy-cheeked girl. He, with 
all a child’s animation, in relating it to me, said: 
“ Oh ! a lady was here to-day, and said she 
would bring me a little /Lwier-eheeked girl!” 
Here is something which we Hoosiers consi¬ 
der quite ‘ tall’ for a little girl of three years. Her 
Sunday-school teacher had told her that we were 
all made of dust; arrived at home, she looked 
up in her mother’s face with an anxious, inquir¬ 
ing glance, and said: 
“ Ma, has Hod got any more dust left?” 
“ Why, my daughter ? what makes you ask 
such a question ?” 
“ ’Cause if he has, I want Him to make me a 
little brother!” 
Another child, seeing his mother overcome 
with grief, at the death of his father, he nestled 
up to her side, and, placing his little arms about 
her neck, whispered: 
“Dy will be done on eart’ as it is in Heben!” 
I took little Franky to the sea-beach, to see 
the bathers. On one of them advancing and 
speaking to him, he remarked, quite soberly : 
“ Mr. II-, you look like a great, big 
Cupidl” 
Johnny - , one bright evening, was standing by 
the window, gazing at the moon and stars; and, 
after looking for some time very intently, he 
turned and said to his mother, who was sitting 
beside him: 
“ Mamma ! what are those bright little things 
in the sky?—are they the moon's little babies ?” 
—— - 
Thrilling Incident.- — A t a temperance meet¬ 
ing in Philadelphia, some years ago, a learned 
clergyman spoke in favor of wine as a drink, 
demonstrating it quite to his own satisfaction to 
be spiritual, gentlemanly, and healthful. When 
the clergyman sat down, a plain elderly man 
arose and asked the liberty of saying a few 
words. Permission being granted, he spoke as 
follows: 
A young friend of mine (said he) who had 
long been temperate, was prevailed on, to the 
joy of his friends, to take the pledge of entire 
abstinence from all that could intoxicate. He 
kept his pledge faithfully for some time, though 
the struggle with his habit was fearful, till one 
evening, in a social-party, glasses of wine were 
handed round. They came to a clergyman 
present, who took a glass, saying a few words 
in vindication of the practice—“ Well,” thought 
the young man; “ if a clergyman can take wine 
and justify it so well, why not I?” So he took 
a Iglass. It instantly rekindled ~his fiery and 
slumbering appetite ; and after a rapid down¬ 
ward course, he died of delirium tremens—a 
raving madman!” The old man paused for 
utterance, and was just able to add—“That 
young man was my only son , and the clergy¬ 
man was the Reverend Doctor who has just 
addressed this assembly /”—Cincinnati Gazette. 
WAKE WITH NATURE. 
BY SUSAN C. BOWIE. 
Would you know a pure delight ? 
Would you feast the sense of sight ? 
Would you breathe fresh, balmy air ? 
Would you gushing music hear ? 
Would you feel a thrill of life, 
Full of peace, with rapture rife ? 
Rouse you with the rising day, 
View calm nature’s grand display. 
Would you like to gain an hour ? 
Would you rob sloth of its power ? 
Would you cheerfulness obtain? 
Would you cheat toil of its pain ? 
Would you duty make a pleasure, 
And insure a good hour’s leisure ? 
Rouse you at the break of day, 
Wake with morning’s twilight ray. 
Would you free yourself from care ? 
Would you find a time for prayer? 
Would you take your cross each day ? 
Would you walk in V wisdom’s way ?” 
Would you feel God’s grace within, 
Helping you to conquer sin ? 
Rise, and at the dawn of day, 
Take an hour—read, sing, and pray. 
- • e • - 
THE TURNPIKE BOY AND THE BANKER. 
It was during a panic some years since, that 
a gentleman, whom we shall now call Mr. 
Thompson, was seated with something of a 
melancholy look, in his back-room, watching 
his clerk paying away thousands of pounds 
hourly. Mr. Thompson was a banker of excel¬ 
lent credit; there existed perhaps in the city of 
London no safer concern than that of Messrs. 
Thompson & Co., but at a moment such as I 
speak of, no rational reflection was admitted, no 
former stability was looked to ; a general dis¬ 
trust was felt, and every one rushed to his 
bank to withdraw his hoard, fearful that the 
next instant would be too late, forgetting en¬ 
tirely that this step was of all others, the most 
likely to insure the ruin he sought to avoid. 
But to return. The wealthy citizen sat 
gloomily, watching the outpouring of his gold, 
and with grim smile listened to clamorous de¬ 
mands on his cashier ; for although he felt per¬ 
fectly easy and secure' as to the ultimate 
strength of his resources, yet he could not sur¬ 
pass a feeling of bitterness as he saw constitu¬ 
ent after constituent rush in, and those whom 
he always fondly imagined to be his dearest 
friends, eagerly assisting in the run upon his 
strong box. 
Presently the door was opened, and a 
stranger ushered in, who, after gazing a mo¬ 
ment at the bewildered banker, coolly drew a 
chair, and abruptly addressed him : 
“ You will pardon me, sir, for asking rather a 
strange question; but I am a plain man and 
like to come straight to the point.” 
“Well sir?” impatiently interrupted the 
other. 
“ I have heard that you have a run on your 
bank, sir.” 
“ Well ?” 
“ Is it true ?” 
“ Really, sir, I must decline replying to your 
very extraordinary query. If, however, you 
have any money in the bank you had better at 
once draw it out, and so satisfy yourself; our 
cashier will instantly pay youand the ban¬ 
ker rose, as a hint for the stranger to with¬ 
draw. 
“Far from it, sir; I have not a sixpence in 
your hands.” 
“ Then may I ask you what is your business 
here ?’•’ 
“I wish to know if a small sum would aid 
you at this moment ?” 
“Why do you ask that question?” 
“Because if it would, I should gladly pay in 
a deposit.” 
The money dealer started. 
“ You seem surprised; you don’t know my 
-person or my motive. I’ll at once explain. Do 
you recollect some twenty years ago, when you 
resided in Essex.” 
“ Perfectly.” 
“ Well then, sir, perhaps you have not forgot¬ 
ten the turnpike-gate through which you passed 
daily? My father kept, that gate and was very 
often honored with a few minutes chat with 
you. One Christmas morning my father was 
sick, and I attended the toll-bar. On that day 
you passed through and I opened the gate. 
Do you recollect it, sir ?”* 
“ Not I, my friend.” 
“ No, sir; few such men remember their kind 
deeds, but those benefited by them, seldom for¬ 
get them. I am perhaps prolix; listen, how¬ 
ever, only a few moments, and I shall have 
done.” 
The banker, who began to feel interested, at 
once assented. 
“ Well sir, as I said before, I threw open the 
gate for you, and as I considered myself in duty 
bound, I wished you a happy Christmas. 
“ Thank you ,my t lad,” replied you—“ thank 
you, and the same to you; here is a trifle to 
make it soand you threw me a seven shilling 
piece. It was the first money I ever possessed, 
and never shall I forget my joy on receiving it, 
or your kind smile when bestowing it. I long 
treasured it, and as I grew up added a little to 
it, till I was able to rent a toll myself. You 
soon after left that part of the country, and I 
lost sight of you. Yearly, however, I have 
been gaining; your present brought good for¬ 
tune ; I am now comparatively rich, and to you 
I consider I owe all. So this morning, hearing 
accidentally that there was a run on your bank 
I collected all my capital, and have brought it 
to lodge with you, in case it can bo of any use; 
here it is; and he handed a bundle of bank 
notes to the agitated Thompson. “ In a few 
days I will call againand snatching up his hat 
the stranger throwing down his Card, immedi¬ 
ately walked out of the room. 
Thompson opencd'the roll; it contained £30,- 
000 ! The stern banker — for all bankers must 
be stern — burst into tears. The firm did not 
require this prop ; but the motive was so noble, 
that even a millionaire sobbed — he could not 
help it. The London firm is still one of the 
first in the city of London. 
The £30,000 of the turnpike boy is now 
grown into some £200,000. Fortune has well 
disposed of her gifts. — Author Unknown. 
At Home in the Evening. — One of the 
grossest neglects of youth, producing incalcula¬ 
ble mischief and ruin, is the spending of their 
evenings. Darkness is ffic temptation to mis¬ 
conduct ; suffering the youth to be out when 
the light of day does not restrain them from 
misconduct, is but training them to it. We 
have already an abundant harvest of this seed¬ 
ing. Riots, mobs, crimes, giving fearful fore¬ 
boding are the results of youth becoming fit 
agents of outrage, by running uncared for in 
the evening. What we see in these respects is 
deplorable enough ; but what is this compared 
with what we do not see—multitudes making 
themselves miserable, and noxious to the world, 
and what is this to come to? Parents should 
look at the truth that pleasures and recreation 
are dearly purchased— the price of their own 
impaired comfort and the blighted prospects of 
their offspring. 
