[4] "These boys," Garrett S. Wall (now Judge Wall, of Maysville, Ky.), Jacob Riley, Anthony Latham and O. A. Carr, all from May's Lick, had lively discussion on the way. "Which church is right?" was the awkward way the talk went on: Garrett explained Jacob's Theological puzzles: Oliver presented the points in that first sermon he ever heard that he understood, and to him the Scripture statements were plain: Anthony, true son of "Calvin", dwelt on the "decrees". These boys were going to be taught, and Anthony seemed willing that the "Spirit should guide him into all truth" provided it did not make a Campbellite of him; for he knew that was wrong religion. The count stood—three against one, and in boy fashion it was claimed that if "what is to be will be" Anthony ought to be satisfied.
O. A. C.
[5] When first I saw the following lines, I called Mattie to hear me read them to her. I thought of her "CHILDREN," the girls she had taught. We were seated in her private parlor; and her attention was fixed from the first stanza: "Shedding sunshine of love on my face." The reading ended, she threw herself on the bed and wept aloud. Her feelings, when fully aroused, were paroxysms of joy or grief; and now the two alternated as memory of her first school at Lancaster, and of the girls on the other side of the earth, at Melbourne, mingled with all her life of love for "THE CHILDREN." She made notes when she read Milton, Spencer, Mrs. Browning, Longfellow, Tennison, but this little poem was literally bathed in her tears.
O. A. C.
When the lessons and tasks are all ended And the school for the day is dismissed, And the little ones gather around me, To bid me good night and be kissed; Oh, the little white arms that encircle My neck in a tender embrace! On, the smiles that are halos of heaven Shedding sunshine of love on my face!
And when they are gone I sit dreaming Of my childhood—too lovely to last; Of love that my heart will remember When it wakes to the pulse of the past, Ere the world and its wickedness made me, A partner of sorrow and of sin When the glory of God was about me, And the glory of gladness within.
Oh, my heart grows weak as a woman's And the fountains of feeling will flow, When I think of the paths steep and stony, Where the feet of the dear ones must go; Of the mountains of sin hanging o'er them, Of the tempest of fate blowing wild; Oh, there's nothing on earth half so holy As the innocent heart of a child.
They are idols of hearts and of households, They are angels of God in disguise; His sunlight still sleeps in their tresses, His glory still beams in their eyes; Oh, those truants from home and from heaven, They have made me more manly and mild— And I know how Jesus could liken The kingdom of God to a child.
I ask not a life for the dear ones, All radiant, as others have done; But that life may have just enough shadow To temper the glare of the sun; I would pray God to guard them from evil, But my prayer would bound back to myself. Ah! a seraph may pray for a sinner, But a sinner must pray for himself.
The twig is so easily bended I have banished the rule and the rod; I have taught them the goodness of knowledge They have taught me the goodness of God: My heart is a dungeon of darkness, Where I shut them for breaking a rule; My frown is sufficient correction; My love is the law of the school.