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A Little Child Shall Lead Them.
By MARGARET A. RICHARD.
“ Sister is coming home on a visit. She will be
here day after to-morrow.”
The speaker, a young man, held an open letter in
his hand, and there was an expression of mingled
pleasure and annoyance on his face, as though he
did not know whether to be glad or sorry of expected
company.
“And the kid?” his brother Tom asked.
“Why, of course the child will come too. What
else could Sister do but bring her?”
The sister thus alluded to had not been home
since she had come when summoned to her mother’s
death-bed. That was before Kathleen, who was now
three years of age, was born. Since then the three
lads had been keping “bachelor’s hall,” with an
old colored “Auntie” as cook and housekeeper.
“Well, we shall have to make the best of it.”
John said, folding the letter and putting it back
into his pocket. “I only hope Sister will not find
us altogether uncivilized. It will seem quite dif
ferent to her from what it used to be—not near so
home-like, I’m afraid.”
“Yes,” acquiesced Tom; “it has never been the
same here since mother died. I suppose it never
will be.”
Henry, the youngest brother, came sauntering up
at that moment, and was told of the expected guests.
“Humph!” he said; “I shall go out behind the
barn to take my meals. I don’t know how to eat
with ladies.”
It was John w 7 ho met the mother and child next
day, and drove them out from the depot. Grace
was delighted to be home again, and if she missed
the touch of a tasteful woman’s hand in the arrange
ment of her room she made no sign. John, remem
bering her love of flowers, had gathered some from
the garden and put them in a vase on her bureau.
He was not an adept in arranging bouquets, but the
fact that she had been kindly remembered touched
the sister, and she bent over the vase with glad
gratefulness.
“Pitty, pitty,” said Kathleen, reaching up and
trying to touch them.
“Yes, very pretty,” said her mama. “Was it
not good of Uncle John to get them for us?”
“Good Unc’ John!” repeated the child.
John, on the piazza, close to the window, heard
the childish voice, and his face flushed. Was he
good, indeed? He knew he was not what he had
been in the old days when his mother was still with
him, and especially in his early boyhood, before his
sister had left home.
“The kid,” as Tom had called Kathleen, was not
long in the house before she had won all hearts.
Aunt Huldah, the cook, who was glad to have the
“young missus” at the farm again, fell quite in love
with the child.
“I. ’clar’ ter goodness, Miss Grace,” she said;
“de lil’ lam’ am des lak you wuz long ’bout ”
But Grace interrupted her with a laugh.
“Don’t go to naming dates,” she cried. “It
makes me remember what I wish to forget, that I
am no longer young.”
“Now, go ’long wid yo’ foolishness,” the negro
protested. “You’s young enough. I ’clar ter grac
ious I can’t b’lieve its bin five years since you mar
ried en went away—you looks so pert en fresh. En
you ain’t bin back once to see us.”
“Only once,” said Grace. Then added softly,
“When mother died.”
At that the old woman shook her head and tears
came into her eyes. Grace was sitting on the back
piazza, and Kathleen was running about the yard,
calling out every now and then something about
“when mama was a little girl.” It seemed very
wonderful to her that she had come to the house
where “mama” had lived, and might see and handle
the same things her mother had seen and'handled as
a little girl. She was busily occupied now with
something that interested her, and did not notice
the turn the conversation had taken.
Aunt Huldah wiped the tears from her eyes with
the corner of her checked gingham apron, as she
. The Golden Age for May 31, 1906.
said: “Things is changed since ole Miss died Miss
Grace. De boys is good, but dey ain’t Christians
lak yo’ ma en yo’ pa wuz. I long ter see dat ole
fambly Bible open agin, en ter heah de blessed
Scripter read lak yo ’ pa used ter read it so ’e he die.
En dem prayers—when he kneel down wid all de
chillun ’roun’ him, en de ole Miss by his side, en
me dar, too—Oh, Miss Grace, dem prayers ho-pe me
ter do right. Den when he wuz gone, ole Miss say:
‘Chillun, let us keep up de fambly prayers.’ En she
read a psa’m, en den she try ter pray, but she des
break down en cry. En soon all de chillun am cry
in’, too, en ole Huldah jine her voice in de res’.
But soon ole Miss go on wid de prayer, en ebry day
atter dat she read and pray, en ho’pe us all ter be
good. But since she gone ”
Aunt Huldah paused and shook her head, then
leant forward and whispered to Grace, as though
the truth were too awful to be spoken aloud: “Since
she gone de boys don’t eben ask a blessin’ on dey
vittles.”
“Why, Aunt Huldah!”
“Deed, dey don’t.”
“But why is that?”
“I doan know, ’thout its ’cause they ain’t per
ticlar ’bout all eatin’ togedder. One comes, den
anoder. When dey all does happen togedder why
they des pitches in en eats, ’thout eber sayin’: ‘Bless
dis meal.’ ”
“I am sorry,” said Grace. But she had no op
portunity to say more, for Kathleen came running
up, and wanted to know if the big tree by the gate
was -where mama’s swing used to be. Grace said
yes, and went with the child to show her the very
limb from which it was hung. The boys came along
just then and declared Kathleen must have one right
where mamma’s had been. With much laughter they
got it in place, and then, after Kathleen had been
sent “high’s the sky,” Grace had to have a swing
for “old time’s sake,” and so did each of the boys.
With such sport they were amusing themselves and
each other -when the supper bell rang, and there
was a race for the dining room.
When all were seated at the table, there was a
pause, Grace remembering what Huldah had said,
yet scarce knowing how to proceed without the bless
ing she was accustomed to having asked by her hus
band. John ended the silence by passing the waf
fles to Grace, saying kindly: “Aunt Huldah re
membered your fondness for them, and proposed
we have some for supper.”
Kathleen, who was sitting next to John, looked
at him in surprise, then, leaning forward, and put
ting a soft little hand on one of his, she said, re
proachfully: “You forgot to say grace, Unc John.”
The man looked from one to the other of his
brothers, an awkward silence ensued. The child,
seeming to divine his embarrassment, said gra
ciously: “Well, nem mind, Unc John. Des teep
’till; I’ll say drace.”
They all bowed their heads, and the babyish voice
lisped only: “For Desus’ sake, amen.”
After that at each meal she asked the simple
blessing, alw 7 ays sitting until each one was at the
table before “saying drace,” as she termed it. Hul
dah, standing in the kitchen door-way, bowed her
head, too, saying within herself, with moist eyes:
“Dat’s sho de ole Miss in her, bless her lil’ heart!”
It was a long and happy visit the two made, but
it came to an end at last. When the boys gathered
about the table for the first meal after the departure
of their guests, they looked at each other inquiringly,
as if to ask: “What now?” Each felt that they
could not go back to their careless manner of eating
without giving thanks; they had heard that sweet
childish “drace” at each meal for so long.
It w 7 as John who spoke first. “Boys,” he said,
“we needed just such a lesson. We have not hon
ored the teaching and example of our parents.
Henceforth I shall never taste a meal for which
thanks are not given.”
“Nor I,” said Tom.
“Nor I,” added Tom.
“And, boys,” John exclaimed, “I am not worthy,
but—if—you—will listen to me, and—and—bear
with my mistakes, I will have family prayer every
night as mother used to.”
“She will be glad, if she knows,” Tow answered.
“And father, too,” said Henry.
University of the South.
(Continued from page 2.)
The early history of the University of the South
has been dwelt on at this length because it is the
most picturesque feature of the institution, and when
it is considered that the town, the university build
ings, the course of study, the equipment, the col
lege library, the University Press, the dormitory
system, (connected with the excellent military pre
paratory school), the reputation of the instructors,
and the commanding place among educational in
stitutions throughout the country, which this uni
versity holds was all accomplished within a compar
atively short time and with almost no fund, it is a
subject which bears considerable comment.
Appearance of Buildings.
The rich yellow mountain stone, so easily procur
able at Sewanee, being taken out of the mountain
side, with only nominal quarrying, is used exclus
ively in the college buildings, and the uniformity
of architecture and of material is striking in its ef
fects. To the visitor at Sewanee the magnificent
library with its wealth of rare volumes, its por
traits of distinguished Churchmen and friends of
the University is one of the chief points of interest.
Here, too, is hung the famous chime of bells whose
tones may be heard for miles around. On one of
these bells is inscribed the following words, which
the chimes voice in music:
“Lord, through tins hour,
Be Thou our guide,
That through Thy power
No foot may slide.”
The sentiment is especially beautiful and appro
priate for the purpose and even the most unthinking
student must occasionally pause and echo this
voiceless prayer.
The University Press is another feature of inter
est at Sewanee—most of the Northern Universities
have a special press but it is safe to say that none
is better equipped or has more modern appliances
than that at Sewanee. Most beautiful book work
is done here and as the University itself published
three magazines—The Sewanee Review( quarterly),
The Sewanee Literary Magazine (monthly), and the
Sewanee Purple ( daily)—the distinct financial ad
vantages of a University Press may be readily seen.
A. T. 0. Chapter House.
The A. T. 0. Chapter House is yet another fea
ture of Sewanee. This Chapter House is one of the
most beautiful in the country and has as a distinct
ive feature, most exquisite memorial windows erect
ed in memory of those members who have “joined
the Great Majority,” but the memory of whom is
thus kept ever before the friends and associates who
are left. It might be thought that this would tend
to sadden the gayety of the young members of the
A. T. 0. Society, but it has not been found so, for,
after all, underlying the pleasure and the work,
the effort and attainment at Sewanee, there is the
deep abiding faith in “things unseen,” which so
filled the hearts of the promoters of the University
of the South and which has been carefully instilled
into the student body today, for, when all is said
the real “essence of knowledge is faith.”
The Senate of Massachusetts has offered to con
tribute $50,000 to the Jamestowm Exposition on con
dition that no discrimination against negroes shall
be made at the show. Virginia is not pleased at this
condition, especially as Massachusetts was assured in
advance that no such discrimination would be made.
This action of the Massachusetts Senate may be as
unpleasing to that State itself as it can be to Vir
ginia.