A SAD STORY.

Evening Star, Issue 3601, 7 September 1874, Page 3

A SAD STORY.

A little boy having beard a beautiful story about a little boy and a hatchet, and how, because the little boy wouldn’t tell a lie, he, in time, got to be President of the United States, was very much impressed by it. Now, it happened that on the last day of March, he was just ten years old, and his father asked him what ho would like to have for a birthday present. Very naturally the boy’s answer was, “ A little hatchet, if you please, papa.” The father bought him a little hatchet that very day, and the boy was so delighted that he actually took it to bed with him. Early the next morning he got up, dressed himself, took his little hatchet, and went out into the garden. There, as luck would have it, the first thing that caught his eye was his father’s favorite cherry-tree. “My eyes!” said the little boy to himself, “ what a time my father would make if a fellow were to cut that tree !” It was a wicked thought, for it led him into temptation. There was the treetall, straight, and fair—just the thing for a sharp little hatchet. And there was the little hatchet—strong, sharp, and shining—just the thing for a favorite cherry-tree. In another instant the swift strokes of an axe were heard |in the still morning air, and before long a small boy was seen running towards the house. His father met him at the door. “My boy, what noise was that I heard just now ? Surely you have not been at my favorite cherry tree ?” The boy stood proudly before hims but with downcast eyes and flushing cheeks. “ Father,” he said, “ I cannot tell a lie. That cherry tree is—” “Say no more, said the father extending his arm. “ You have done wrong, my son, ard that was my favorite tree, but you have spoken the truth. I forgive you. Better to—” This was too much. The boy rushed into his father’s arms. “ Father, he whispered “ April fool ! I havu t touched the cherry tree; but I most chopped the old apple stump to pieces.” “You young rascal, you, cried the father ; “do you mean to say you >havn’t chopped my cherry tree 1 Take off your coat, sir !” With a suppressed sob, that little boy obeyed. Then shutting his eyes, he felt his father s hand descend upon his shrinking form. “My son,” said the father, solemnly, as he stroked the little shoulder, “it is the first of April. Go thy way.”