THE ORPHANS’ FRIEND.
Wednesday, April 20, (870.
A STRAlNOi: KULli OF LAW.
It has always been a mystery to us that it
is by the laws of the land considered a crime
to steal from a firm or corporation, and not a
crime to steal from a widow or au orphan. If
a man robs a railroad company, it is a crime
if he robs a family, a widow or an orphan, it
is only a kind of misconduct, an impropriety,
but not a crime. It would seem that it ■were
the greater crime to rob the ]>oor and the dc-
feuceless. They need the protection ot tlie
law more than the wealthy corporation, yet
they are left without protection, and to the
mere honesty of those who handle their
money. Men of pretended character and honor
who are higli in authority are to be found who
are defaulters Ui thousands of dollars, borrowed
from widows and orphan children, or w'ho
were entrusted with such estates by men who.
had confidence iu their integrity. We con
sider it the basest of crimes to thus cheat and
defraud the defenceless, and we cannot coun
tenance such eriniiuals. Our law’s should
make it a crime punishable with fine and im
prisonment for life, thus to rob the poor aud
helpless.—Biblical Recorder.
Yes, we can give the names of
influential men, of those who are
accounted leaders in the churches
which seem to belong to them,
who have sent widows and or
phans down to the bottom of the
pit of poverty. A man may die
rich ; but his estate will generally
be swallo\^-ed up by the expenses
of administration, and by unex
pected claims. So it happens that
many orphans are cradled in lux
ury and left in penury. Then
comes the proposition to “give
them a home,” equivalent to food
and clothing till twenty-one years
old for the privilege ot living in
abject slavery. Tiie following
letter illustrates our allusion ! We
substitute blanks for the names,
because we have sent a private
letter, hoping to secure the girl.
Here is the letter received :
-April.fltli, 187G.
Mr. Mills—Dear Sir :—I havejust learned,
to my great sorrow, that there is au orphan
in you should have. I hoard that Mrs.
took her from some poor house, (and
may heaven forgive her) to use as a slave, and
truly she does use her badly, if all 1 can hear
is true, aud I guess it is. All this cold winter
this poor little girl has been barefooted aud
half clothed. I am a mother, and oh ! how
my heart bleeds when I thiuk of this ptjor lit
tle sufferer. I hear sho is so cruel to her.
This lady’s childreu tell it on her, they being
small do not know any better. May heaven
move your heart to do something for this
child! Can you uot beg the lady to give her
up ? I cau not give you the particulars, as I
do uot know them. Mrs. is a stranger
comparatively, and I fear to question her lost
sho suspect me of writing this letter, aud it
make her an enemy. I do pray that God will
move your heart to pity her condition. Mrs.
came from College. I guess she
got the child thereabouts. Even the young
gentlemen of this place are speaking of the
poor child and pitying her. She never allows
the child to go beyond the back yard. Mrs.
has little childreu of her owm, and I
fear God wdll punish her or them fi.r this
child's cruel treatment. My prayers shall go
with this letter to you, that you may use ev
ery moans to got the child. I never saw her,
though I visit Mrs. frequently. She
never allows her to bo seen in company. Her
case, as I thiuk, is w-'orsc tlian a negro’s, and
our white i)eople ought not to allow it to bo
so. Please do all you can to get the child,
and heaven will surely reward you.
I can not give you my name, but I am in
sight of her house and I will watch for your
coming. We would all be willing to help the
poor child. I would take her myself, as largo
a family as I have, if I could get her ou
friendly termsj hut know it would make ene
mies. I could get up enough for her to sup
port the child—I know I could if I dared to*
If you do not get her, I shall try some other
means. I hoDO to hoar from you some way
or other, in the meantime I will learn all 1
can about the child, and write you again. In
Faith, Hope, and Charity, I am,
Ml. J. M. Lovejoy, a teacher in
Ealeigh, is sixty-one years old,
and has taught forty years with
out missing a day from school on
account of sickness. He oven de
clares he has never felt a paiii,
and is very grateful to the God
■who always answers prayer, for
the mercies so long enjoyed.
HCMBIiE APOtiOOY.
Correspondents sometimes com
plain because I do not answer
their letters promptly.
1. Sometimes they ask ques
tions hard to answer, and I need
a little time to consider.
2. My duties take me toso many
places, that in many instances I
do not see letters for many days
after they are taken from the of
fice. I am sorry for these delays ;
but do not know how to avoid
them.
J. H. Mills.
April the 1, 1876. Washiugtou, N. G
Mr. Mills. Dear Sir I take my pen in
hand to inform you of my Situation I Am A
poor Olpin boy And want assistonce My
Father dead my Mother not able to assist me.
I Alitol over age. I am 18 years old. My
health Not very good woutyou take me iu the
Asylum. lam desiors of and education Yours
Truly, EGWAliD. F. SINGLETON.
Better remain where you are.
Work hard, buy good books and
read them. After a time, marry
some smart girl, full of life and
vigor, and let her improve your
education. We can not take you
here. You would be in a class
with small boys and they would
keep you foot. This would mor
tify you, and keep you in distress.
Besides, you would fall in love
with some of our girls. You
could not help it. Love scrapes
would never do here. Farewell.
Asheville, N. C., April, 1876.
We have had several unpleas
ant cases of illness among the
children lately, but all are now
improving—only one confined to
her room, and, with care, she will
be out iu a day or two. The
weather has been very changea
ble—la.st week we had some quite
warm days, on Sunday night we
had a slight snow, and last night
it snowed again, and to-day the
mountain tops around have on
their white caps, and a stiff north
ern breeze has made the day
chilly and uncomfortable. Cough
ing and sniffles are the conse
quence.
Our list of contributions this
week exhibits a plentiful lack of
the “needful” coming in, conse
quently the pressure in that par
ticular is a little heavy. We hope
to experience an improvement in
that line soon. The contributions
“in kind” are more liberal, and
we are feeling easy on the souie-
thing-to-eat score for the next few
days. Besides, I have two or
three good routes for foraging
planned out, that I think will
prove .successful in adding to the
contents of the larder.
We have a good religious feel
ing in the school at present. One
dear little girl has professed faith
in the Redeemer, and will proba
bly connect herself with a branch
of the church next Sabbath.
Others are serious. Ten of the
thirty-eight orphans now here are
members of the different churches,
most of whom are exemplary in
their lives.
We are looking forward to the
twelfth of May for a big time.
That day has been appointed for
a convention of delegates from
all the Lodges west of the Blue
Ridge, to consider the interests of
the orphan work in this part of
the State, and to take preliminary
steps for erecting buildings on
the land donated by Mr. Pease to
the orphan work. We hope to
have many Masons, as well as of
ficers of the Grand Lodge, from
east of the Ridge, with us on that
occasion, and that many, not
members of the order, will be
present to give aid and encour
agement to tile movement.
On the 10th of May I expect to
take a number of the children out
t.) Pleasant Gap Church, in the
edge of Madison county, to par
ticipate in a Centennial celebra
tion, gotten up by the good peo
ple of that section, at which the
interest of the orphans will not
be forgotten or overlooked. The
dwellers along that section of Big
Ivey are very good friends of the
orphan work, of which thev gave
tangible proof to-day, in tlie shape
of a wagon load of provisions.
I expect to furnish a synopsis
of proceedings on these occasions,
for the “Friend,” at least so far
as the interests of the orphan
work may be connected with
them. James II. Moore,
Steward.
stretch It a Eittle.
A little girl and her brother
were on their way to their school
one winter morning. The gra s
ou the common was white with
Lost, and the wind was very
damp. They were both poorly
dressed, but the little girl had a
kind of cloak over her, which she
8 -emed to have outgrown.
As they walked briskly along
she drew the boy closer to her,
and said, “Come under my coat,
Johnny.”
“It isn’t big enough for both,
sister.”
“Then I will try and stretch it
a little.”
And they were soon as close
together and as warm as birds in
the same nest.
Now why can’t we all stretch
our comforts a little ? There are
many shivering bodies, and sad
hearts, and weeping eves in the
world, just because people do not
stretch their comforts beyond
themselves.
Help Better tlian Pity.
There was a great rush to the
trap, in which sat a disconsolate
mouse looking in blank dismay at
the company of cousins clamoring
outside.
“How could 3'ou be so loolish ?”
squeaked one.
“It goes to my verj’ heart to see
you, dear,” squeaked another;
while cries of “I wonder ■\'ou were
not more careful!” “What a
thousand pities you should have
fallen a sacrifice to ^mur taste for
cheese!” “How glad I should
be to see you out of your trouble!”
etc., etc., rose in a chorus from
the rest.
“There, if 3’ou tfa.n’t do better
than sit there squeaking, be so
good as to go,” cried the prisoner
indignantly ; “if you would set to
work to gnaw the wire, so as to
set me free, I would call you
friends, and believe in your sym
pathy ; but your ‘noise and doing
nothing’ is worse than useless.
Your wisdom, which is aggrava
ting, comes too late, and your pity
is as contemptible to me as it is
cheap to you !”—Mrs. Prosser.
Hard Work.
“What is .your secret of suc
cess I” asked a lady of Tnrnei-,
the distinguished painrer. Ho re
plied, “I have no secret, madam,
but hard rvork.”
Says Dr. Arnold, “The differ
ence between one boy and an
other is not so much in talent as
in energy.”
“Nothing,” says Reynolds, “is
denied well-directed labor, and
notliing is to be attained wdthout
it.”
“Excellence in any depart
ment,” saj^s Johnson, “can now
be attained only by the labor of
a lifetime; it is not to bo pur
chased at a lesser price.”
“There is but one method,”
said Sydney Smith, “and that is
hard labor ; and a man who will
not pay that price for distinction,
had better dedicate himself to the
pursuit of the fox.”
“Step by step,” reads the
French proverb, “one goes ver}^
far.”
“Nothing,” says Mlrabeau, “is
impossible to the man who can
will ‘Is that necessary ?’ ‘That
shall be.’ This is the only law
of success.”
“Have }'0u ever entered a cot
tage, ever travelled in a coach,
ever talked with a person in the
field, or loitered with a mechanic
at the loom,” sa\ s Sir Edward
Bulwer Lytton, “and not found
that each of those men had a tal
ent you had not, known some-
thing you knew not ?”
The most useless creature that
ever j^awiied at adub, cr counted
the vermin on his rags under the
suns of Calabria, has no excuse
for want of intellect. What men
want is not talent, it is purpose ;
in other words, not the power to
achieve, but the will to labor. I
am no believer in genius, but I
believe that labor, judiciously and
continuously applied, becomes
genius.
Xcaclilisg:.
The more we see of teaching,
the less is our confidence in pre
scribed methods. The mind is
not touched by the revolving cogs
of a dead mechanism. A method
must pulsate with a soul breath
ed into it. There must be the
contact of mind with mind, and
heart with heart. A method can
never be more than a way, a
channel; it must be filled b\' tlie
teaclier. Hence the barrenness
of mere operative teaching —the
turning of the crank of‘approved
methods.’ No true teacher can
be an operative, a crank turner.
He must be an artist, and a pri-
marjr teacher should be the artist
of artists. But teachers can only
be liberated from the thralldoin
of mechanical methods by a com
prehension of their principles—
and here is the great work of
no.’mal and training-schools. We
do not need more imitators, more
pedagogues with their hand-or
gan methods, but we do need
more teachers with a clear insight
into the principles of their high
art, and with sufficient ability and
skill to invent, modify and vital
ize tiieir methods.—Ohio Educa
tional Monthly.
A Capital Fable.—The hope
lessness of any one’s accomplish
ing anything without pluck is il
lustrated in an old Eas er 1 fable.
A mouse that dwelt near the
abode of a great magician was
kept in such constant distress by
its fear of a cat that the ma
gician, taking pity on it, turned
it into a cat. Immediately it be
gan to suffer from its fear of a dog,
so the magician turned it into a
dog. Then it began ti suffer
from the fear of a tiger, and the
magician turned it into a tiger.
Then it began to suffer from its
fear of huntsman, and the magi
cian in disgust said: Be a mouse
again. As you have only the
heart of a mouse it is impossible
to help you by giving you the
body of a noble animal.’ And
the poor creat.ure became a mouse
again. It is the same way with
the mouse-hearted man. He may
be clothed with the powers and
placed in the position of brave
men, but he will always act like
a mouse, and public opinion is
usually the great magician that
finally says to such persons: ‘Go
back to your obscurity again.
You have only the heart of a
mouse, and it is useless tiying to
to make a lion of vou.’
Tlie Sitiugiiig: Tree.
One of the torments to ■which
the traveler is subject in the North
Australians scrubs is a stinging
tree (Utica gigas,) which is very
abundant and ranges in size from
a large shrub of thirty feet in
height, to a small plant measurino-
only a few inches. Its leaf is
large and peculiar, from being
covered ■svith a shoi't, silvery hair
which, ■when shaken, emits a fine
pungent dust most irritating to
skin and nostrils. If touched it
causes most acute pain which is
felt for months afterwards—a dull,
gnaw’ng pain, accompanied by a
burning sensation, particularly in
the shoulders and under the arms
wliere small lumps often arise.
Even when the sting has quite
died away, the unwary •biishmau
is forcibly reminded of his indis
cretion each time that the affected
part is brought in contact with
water. The fruit is a pink, flesh
color, hanging in clusters, so in
viting tliat a stranger is irresisti
bly tempted to pluck it, but sel
dom more than once, for though
the raspberiy-like berries are
harmless in themselves, somecor-
tact with tlie leaves is almost un
avoidable. The blacks are said
to eat the fruit, but for this I can'
not vouch, though I have tasted
one cr two at odd times, and
found them very pleasant. The
worst of this nettle is a tendency
to shoot up wherever clearing has
been effected. In passihg th.roiigh
the dray tracks cut through the
scrub, great caution was necessa
ry to avoid the young plants that
cropped up even in a few week,s
I have never known a case of it
being fatal to Imniau beings, but
I have seen people sulijected by
it to great sutfering, notably a
scientific gentleinan, wlni j)!uck(‘(l
oft' a. branch am! carriwl it some
distance as curiosity, wondering
tiio while what camsed the pain
numbness in the arm. liorso.s I
have seen die in agony from the
sting, the wounded piarts becom
ing paralyzed; but strange to
sa}', it does not seem to injure
cattle who dash through tlio
scrubs full of it without receiving
anj' damage. This curious ano
maly is ivell known to all bush-
men.—Cassell’s Illustrated Travels.
The longer I live, the more I
feel the importance of adhering
to the rules wliich I have laid
down for m}'self in relation to fol
lowing subjects ;
1. To hoar as little as possible
that is to the prejudice of others.
2. To believe nothing of the
kind till 1 am absolutely forced to
it.
3. Never to drink in t’ e
spirit of one who circulates an ill
report.
4. Always to moderate, as far
as I can, the unkindness which is
expressed towards others.
5. Alwav's to believe that, if
the other side were heard, a very
different account would be given
of the matter.
I consider love as wealth; and
as I would resist a man who
should come to rob my house, so
would I a man who would weaken
my regard for any human being.
I consider, too, tliat persons are
cast into difl'eront moulds; and
that to ask mj^self: What should
I do in that person’s situation ? is
not a just mode of judging. I
must not expect a man that is
naturally cold and reserved, to
act as one that is naturally warm
and affectionate ; and I think it a
groat evil that people do not make
more allowances for each other in
this particular.