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VOLUME I. OXFORD, X. C., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1875. NUMBER 45, TME HEW OVEiS-COA’I.’. It was Christmas-da)', but tlie festivities of that occasion scarce ly existed for the Harford family. The mother had done her best to make it seem like Christmas ; but lier drunken husband liad just slammed the door behind him, while she, her face flushed with a blow, turned to her boy, Fred, who had sunk down by the fire side, and given himself up to melancholy thoughts. IVhile sitting thus, Fred form ed a resolution. He would go to the city and find eraploymeut; he would be sober and industrious, and afford that help and comfort to his poor mother which she could look for from no other s mrce. Fred carried out his determinar tlon. Two years passed by, and he w'as to come home to spend Christmas. It was early in the morning when he reached home, and proceeded to wake liis mother in a novel manner. He com menced one of their old familiar carols, which he had many a time sung with the little ones at home. Not a jot cared he whether he awoke the whole neighborhood or not with his resonant tenor voice, so that he a-woke his mother, and so that she recognized his voice. That was all he cared for. But Mrs. Harford was already awake. Thoughts of her boy had made her sleepless, and she had heard the swift footsteps clanging down the sti’eets, and then stop sudden ly at her door, when the singing began ; and altbough it made her heart leap, for she fancied she knew the step, and how well she knew the carol! But the voice ? It might be her boy’s, but if so, how changed—-how deep and manly ! A knock followed the carol, during the singing of which she had hastily dressed herself, tumbling over herself almost m her haste, and making a noise which awoke the cliildren in the next room, though it did not wake her husband, He was sleeping off a drunken fit, and it would have tiilcen something a little less noisy than booming cannon to arouse him. In a moment she was at the door, and mother and son were in each o.ther’s arras. After a long- embrace she stood away to look liini up and .down, and after a fond survey, she said, “How you are grown, Fred 1 and how well you look ! and how well-to-do iii that great-coat.: it makes you look quite the gentleman,I” “It’s a real treasnro, mother,” said Fred ; “and dosen’t it keep the cold out!” •‘H shojiM think .so,” said the mother, laying her hand upon it appreciatively. “It’s a beautiful thick cloth, Fred. How did you manage to get it out of your small earnings, after Avhat you’ve sent me ? I’m sure I’ve been afraid that you did not leave yourself a penny scarcely.” “You needn’t have been afraid, mother. Why, I’ve got a watch, too! look here. I gave fifty shillings for it.” “La, Fred ! however did you manage it ?” “I’ll tell you by-and-by, moth er. Now please help me off with niv great-coat; fo.r .my bauds have got the frost in them to night. I had half a mind to bring this coat for fathei'. But then, thinks I, it would soon be lodged at uncle’s—easy come, eas)^ go, you know—so I decided rather to tell father how to get one as I got this : he’ll prize it all the more for getting it so.” How merrily the breakfast-time passed, and wliat a happy day they hoped to spend ! The sun- sliine was come into the liouso at last; it lighted up the faces of the sad mother and her children, and made all bright. Toward nine o’clock the merrrr hubbub in the house awoke Mr. Harford; and learning that Fred was come, ho set himself to the dreaded task of getting up. Pressntly the church-bells be gan to chime, and Fred proposed that they should go to their house of worship. “I shall he glad to see the familial- old place a.gain,” he said. 4M foe childi-en wanted to go ivith Fred, and he wanted his father to go too. He refused quite decidedly at first; it wa.s out of the question, he said, and he never went to chni'ch now. “All tlie more reason -^vhy you should go to-day, father,” urged Fred, '‘But I’ve got nothing fit to put on,” said tlie lather. “Yes, you have,” said the wife; “youi- best coat is up stairs.” “How came it tliere f” he ask ed., in aBtouishraeut. “Never mind about this now,” said Mrs, Harford; “but just go and make youi'self spruce, and go out with Fred this once. We may never meet together on a Christruas-day again, you know.” “Look at Fred’s coat—what a beauty!” cried Susie, as Fred took it .from a peg behind tlie doer. “ Why, Fred, yon look as though you were getting on in the world,” said his fatlier. “How did you manage to get that and your -w'atch too f” “You mast kiiosv I haven’t spent a fai-tliing of my wages on them,” said Fred. “Tlien how iu the -world did you get them!” “The price of half a pint of beer a day for neai'iy three years got tliese for me,” said Fred. “All the fellows at our place are allowed half a pint a day. I told master tliat I’d rather not liave any, and if he liked to make me any allo-wauce for m3' not liaving it, he might; or I’d just leave it, and say uotliing about au allowance. He said he liked to euoom-age young fellows to be abstainers, and alloived me tliree balf-pence a day. That has been faitiifully given me for about trvo 3'eai-s and nine montiis, a.iid has been something like six pounds five shillings in my pocket. With that, 3'ou see, I have been well able to buy my watch and coat, and to send home some little Clu-istmas gifts last year, as well as to bring these.” ‘.‘Who’d ever ha’ thought that three half-pence a day saved would have run up to that in less than tliree v'ears I” said Mr. Har ford, thinking dolefully of the manv' pence, and not only pence, but sixpences, lie had spent day after (lay during that time and for y.eays before—si.xpences that made man}' pounds, which would have bought him coats, watch, and perliajis a house too—so ma il}' had ho squandered. Ned was tiying to do a sum of the same kind in mental arithmetic, though with lower figures than those wliich came to his father’s mind; and both began a series ot self-ro- proaebings, and both felt tliat they had been foolish in the high est degree. “You did well—you did "well, Fred,” said ins father with a sigh. Then Mr. Harford and his children went to church. Wlveu they returned Mrs. Harford seem ed much surprised to see her hiia- band returning witli the rest; and she bustled about with a glad lie.art to get her Christmas din ner, just as in tlie happy days of long, long ago. Mr. Harford managed to eat a pretty, good meal, and felt the better for it. When it was over, and oranges and other good things brought by Fred were being dis cussed, his listless air quite pass ed away, and he playfully helped the children to make ivonderful things with orange-pool. By-and- by he leaned back in Ills chair, and said, “I can’t believe it’s me sitting here at home like tliis— something like tlie poor follow' as our parson was reading of tliis moniiiig, as was sitting ‘clothed, and ill his right mind.’" “All, it does me good to see }’Ou,” said .his wife, with glisten ing eyes. Ha looked do-w'n at his coat to avoid lier glance, and said, “Tliis may look tidy, missis, but it don’t keep tile cold out; I was regular nipped coming home from oiiapol.” “You ought to have a great coat like Fred’s,” slie replied. “You might easy get one, as lie did, afore next winter.” “IVhat! save three lialf-pence a day I ’Course 1 could, and I’ll begin,” he said. “But I did something more than tiiat, father,” said Fred. “If I hadn’t, I miglit just iiave gone on saving for a moritli or two, and then let it all go.” “What did you do ?” “Why, I just kept right away from the public ho’dses. Tliey’re tlie places to keep one from hav ing a coat to one’s back; tliey strip you, if you Irequeiit them ; but they’ll ne-rer clothe you. You’ll begin to save three half pence a day for q great-coat, father, as you sa}'{ but will you do the other thing f If you only would, I’ll tell you what you’d get besides. Wliy, good boots, good liat, a watch in your pocket, clothes for the youngsters, good food and plenty of it, a comforta ble, happy home and wife, hea'th of body, and a clear and peaceful mind.” “Surely, surely 1” chimed in Mrs. Harford, in a half-sad, half hopeful tone, “And only one thing robs you of all that, father. You know what it is, and hov/ to conquer it, too; oil)' minister told it all so beautifull} this moriiing, God gives the victory over all evil, tliroug'h our Lord Jesus Christ. Only we must not be still, and leave the fighting to our Captain ; w'e must strive and struggle hard to overcome, rel}'ing on Ills help, You j'cmomber that he said all that, father?” “Yes, I minded it well. It seemed all for me. I tiioug'ht then, if I could only begin striv ing I might overcome, Otiiors— liundreds and thousands of others —have fouglit against tliis cursed habit of drinking, and ovgrcoiije it.” “So may you,” said Mrs. Har ford. “Wliy, you’ve began al ready, James. Tliink! }'ou haven't liad a drop to-day ! All you’ve got to do is just to go on as you’ve begun, tliat all.” “Tliat’ll bo enongli, I guess, as tlie days go on. Still, folks say as tlie first ste]) is the liardest, and I’ve taken flie first, you say?” “Yes, yes.” “Ah, and I fool it too. Fred, my boy, if wo all live till next Cliristmas we’ll have a dinner of our own buying, please God, and not of yours; and it you come to see us. I’ll hare as respectable a great-coat on as von.” “And I too,” said Ned, stand ing up very straiglit to give em- pliaais to his words. “No more o’ liip tin shall go into tlie pub lics, not if I know it. I knows a trick 0’ getting the value of it now, as 1 didn’t tliink of afore 1 saw Fred’s great-coat,” So, to make a long- story short, it came to pass that Fred’s great coat was an instrument clioson to ivork quite a revolntion in .Har ford’s 1(01116. Did you ever know .a man give jn wlio commenced climbing- upward and onward, ivitli a strong- deteniiination, and rel} ing upon God for strengtli and assistance I Never. No, lie did not give in; and tils happy Christuuis-day whicli they spent on tlie occasion of Fred’s memorable visit was the first of a long series of liapp}- ones. Tlie sunsliiiie tiiat he brought did not fade away; it brightened and briglitonecl into a perpetual glow of comfort and peace. Fred did come home again on the following Cliristmas, and walked to cliapol witli ids parents and brotliers and sisters ; but he was not tlie only one tliat went out of tlie liou.se witli a great-coat on ills back that day; fliere were two others who liad got them in tlie same ivay as he got liis. He wore tlie same one tliat ho had appeared in on his first visit. “It still looks almost as good as new',” he said, “and I shall keep it tidy as I can. It lias been the moans of doing- so much good that I liave a sort of strong affection for my first great-coat which I ppuld never bave for any other.” Wlio’ll Tin'll tlic Cwi’liidfSSftnc ? IVliou I was a iittie hoy, I re member one cold sviiiior’s piorii- iiig I w'as accosted bv- a smiling man, witli au axe on fas slioql- der—“My pretty boy,” said lie, “Has your fatlier a grindstone !” “Yes, sir,” said I. “You are a. fine little fellow,” said he, “wil} you let me grind my axe on it V Pleased with his compliment of “flue little follow,” “Oh yes, sir,’* I answered, “it is down in the shop.”—‘And W'ill you, my man,', said he, jiattiiig ms on the head, iget a little hot water!” IIiw could I refuse ? I j-an, and soon brought a kettle full. ‘-How old are you and what’s your name?' continued he. Without waiting for a reply, “I am sure you are one ot the finest lads that 1 have over seen; will you just turn a few minutes for me ? Tickled with the flattery, like a little fool I w'eiit to work, and bitterly did I rue the da}'. It was a new axe, and I toiled and tugged till I was almost tired to deatli. The school bell rung and I could not get away : my liaiids wore blistered, and it w'as not half ground. At length, liowevor, the axe was sharpened, and the man turned tq me with, “Now, you little rascal, you’ve pla}'ed the truant; scud to school or you’ll rue it.” Alas, thougiht I, it W'as hard enough tq turn a grindstone this cold day, but now to be called a little rqs- oal was too much. It sunk deep into niy mind, and often have I thouglit of it since. When I see a merchant over polite to his pqstomers, begging them to taste a little brandy and throwing his goods on the coun^ ter, thinks I, that man has an axe to grind. When I see a man flattering the peo])le, making great profesT sions of attachment to libertv', w'ho is in jn'iv'ate life a tyranW methinks, lookout, good people, that fellow syiU set }-pu turning grindstones,. IVhen I see a man hoisted Iht to office by party spirit, without a single qualification to render him either respectable or useful- alas, methinks, deluded people, you are doomed for a season tq turn the grindstone for a boQ; by.' ■ Speaking of a pastor who had been requested to pq-each to chil dren, The Congregationalist says: “He now replies that, having given the subject due reflection, he has concluded to preach regu larly to the children, with a ser mon one Sabbath afternoon in the month to adults. He says that the main hope of the church is the riling geueratipn. The thoughts and intents of his grown up hearers are in the main fixed: butthose oftheyouth are yet to be shaped and directed. If he can get" the boys and girls of to-day for Christ, he has made sure of the men and women of to-morrow. Ills business is to carry the lambs,-” It is related that an Indian once brought up a young lion, and, finding him weak an.d harmeless, never attempted to control Jifh}- Eevery day the lion gained in strength and became more difficuif to manage. At last, when excited by rage, he foil upon the Injiaa and tore him to pieces. It is thu^ witli evil habits and bad passions. They are like this iion-r-they will cause much vexation in after life, and may perhaps destroy us, Youth, remember and beware. Surpreme devotion to monevr getting loiycrs the tone of public virtue, and tends to make men gross and matorial. J’here is a show of respect foi- religion.; churches ai-e built and theological schools endowed, but still there is a lack of deep spiritual piety. Notiiiiig but a,n “aggressive chrisj- tianity” can successfully grapple with the materialism of tl-.e age.
The Orphans’ Friend (Oxford, N.C.)
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Nov. 10, 1875, edition 1
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