Rensselaer Union, Volume 3, Number 19, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 February 1871 — The Two Cripples. [ARTICLE]

The Two Cripples.

You want to know why I keep that horrid, common, lame sparrow, do you, Harry ? and why I make such a fuss over him? Well, if you can keep still for five minutes I will tell you his story. Three years ago I was walking along a poor, miserable street, when I heard a sweet voice above mvMicad singing “The Mocking Bird.” It was long since I had heard such fresh young notes, and I was pleased to find they came from the garret of the house I was going to. When I had finished the business which took me there, I asked who was the singer, and was told, “ Oh, that’s poor Jem Robson, a cripple; he and his mother have the top attic." I made my way up and found Jem alone. His mother, who was his sole support, went out to sew, and poor Jem was left by himself almost every day. When he was quite a baby he had a terrible fall, which had injured his spine so much that he never was able to walk. He was now twelve years old, but his legs had grown quite thin, and he was hardly ever out of pain. His face was white -and sickly, and had that sad look of deformity which so often accompanies a crooked baclr. I soon got him to talk quite freely to me, and I asked him if he was not often very dull. “ I was very low sometimes, ma’am,” he said, "till Bob came to me.” “And who is Bob?” I said, for the child spoke as of some one pre-ent. For answer, Jem gave a low whistle, and from the farthest corner of the room there came a lame sparrow. Its hopping was a most painful process. I saw at once that one* of his legs was broken. Its spirits, however, remained unimpaired: It came up at its little master’s call, aud perched itself on one of his small wasted hands, and pecked gently at his lips as though it would give him a bird-kiss. Jem then told me that some months ago his mother had left him one day laid by the window, so that he might see all that went on in the street below. While she was away, he watched the people coming and going, and wondered how he should feel if he could walk and run as they did.

He noticed the children as they went to school, and thought within himself, “I shall never grow up a scholar, for I can never go to school, and no teacher will ever come to me.” At liv-t he saw a tiny child toddle into the middle of the road, where it fell flat on its face. It would certainly have been run over had not a boy, just about Jem’s one age, picked it up and carefully led it away. Then tears of disappointment rolled down the face of the cripple, who watched from his window this scene of life and action, of danger and of help. “Ah,” he thought, “I could have borne to sec people strong and happy, whilst I was dull in pain, but it is hard to see them wanting help and to know that I can never give it. That baby might have been killed for anything I could have done; why did God let me live when he knew I should always be Jike this, and never any use in the world ? ” 4

Just then a lad looked in, whose parents lodged in a room below Jem’s garret, and said: “I say, see what I’ve caught!” He came close up to Jem, and opening his hand, showed him-a wretched-looking, half dead bird. lie had been setting traps for sparrow's, and this was the only one he had caught. It had struggled violently to get free, and in doing so had broken one of its slender legs. “I shall kill it,” said the boy. “No, you shan’t,” said Jem, his pale face flushing all over with newly awakened pity; “give it to me, I’ll nurse it.” Then ensued much and close bargaining; for the sparrow instantly rose in value as soon as its captor perceived that its very misfortunes enhanced its value in Jems eyes. Jem offered in exchange a long jnece of string, an alley-tor, and a bit of lead pencil, all of which were treasures very clear to him. But his ually increased his demands, till at length Jem was compelled to sacrifice the bright, four-penny piece which formed his sole capital. A kind hearted visitor had given it to him on Christmas day, and Jem had secretly intended to buy something for his mother with it; but pity was stronger than love, and Bob became Jem’s sole charge for life. With much difficulty the two boys bound up the broken leg, and Bob began life and education under Jem’s guardianship. Jem sooon taught the little creature to come at his call, to feed out of his hand, and to perform many little tricks at a word. 1 said to him once, “Why, Jem, what a great deal you have managed to teach Bob; he is quite a learned sparrow.” “ God sent Bob here'to show me that a lame bird is more helpless than a lame bpy. I learnt Bob that even I could save life, and make sqme one happy that would have been miserable else. Bo we just do each other good. Bob sits and chirps and is as merry as a cricket, and whenever I feel a bit dull, I start off singing to him, and Bob puts his head on one side, and listens and looks as if he was saying to himself, ‘ Yes, I remember something like that long ago, in the parks among my relations there.* Bob and me was made for each other, I think, ma’am. I don’t mind being a cripple now, for may be it would gneve Bob if he saw I could run about, lie might feel like I did before he came.’ It was the terrible cholera year, and one’ evening they brought me word that Jem and his mother were both ill. I could not go that night, but the next morning I put on my bonnet and went to see them. They were t>oth beyond my reach, and would 'never again feel pain or want. The woman in the next room came in |o speak to me, and said, with many tears, “ Poor Jem, we shall all miss him, with his poor, pinched face, and his sweet voice; and as for his bird, it’s just heart-breaking to see it stand by and never lift up its head.”

True enough, there was Bob standing on the miserable apology for a bed, where lay all that remained of his master and friend. His head drooped; so did his feathers, and not a chirp did he utter. When I put out my hand to take him away, he gave a cry almost like a child who is torn from its mother’s arms; but I knew it must be done, and I did not let him go. I brought him home, and after many days he brightened up a little, though I am sure he has never forgotten poor Jem, for he never plays any of his old tricks. Now, Harry, you will understand why I am so fond of a common lame sparrow. Crippled Bob reminds me of crippled Jem, and teaches me lessens of patience, and tenderness, and love. w