Seven bright summers have passed away since little Irish Ned first saw
the light of day. In his own estimation he is now quite a man. Granny
must put him in long pants, and then he will trot out to earn a living
for himself. Down to the newspaper office he goes with a friend who
tells his story. The "Circulation Manager" is very sympathetic, and Ned
gets his first bundle of papers. Oh, how proud he was. Not a prouder
boy or man in all Winnipeg. At six o'clock in the morning his little
feet would carry him across the overhead bridge to Portage Avenue, and
soon his voice would be heard crying "Free Press! Morning Free Press!"
along Portage Avenue, up Main Street and down Selkirk to his home. In
the afternoon the same shrill call would be heard heralding the evening
papers, "Press, 'Bune and Telegram." Of them all he preferred the Free
Press, but necessity knows no law, and it was, as he said, "to make his
pile and get rich quick," that he sold the "'Bune and Tely."
On Sunday he was always at morning service, sitting in the South
Transept near the Font. He loved the Sunday School, and right joyously
rang his sweet, childish treble in the chants and hymns; but when it
came to the hymn, "Just as I am, I come," then his whole soul seemed
afire, and the thrilling, rapturous music gushed from his little throat
and ascended Heavenwards--as the angels' songs must ascend to the
summit of God's Throne.
"In the glad morning of my day,
My life to give, my vows to pay,
With no reserve and no delay,
With all my heart I come.
"Just as I am, young, strong and free,
To be the best that I can be,
For truth and righteousness and Thee,
Lord of my life, I come.
"And for Thy sake to win renown,
And then to take the victor's crown,
And at Thy feet to cast it down,
O Master, Lord, I come."
It was the sweet, enchanting strain of a pure and innocent soul
registering its determination to be worthy of the God from Whom it
sprung.
Day followed day, and week in week out, in sunshine and in rain, Ned
sold his papers and won his way. All came to know and admire and love
little Irish Ned. His honest, bright, little face and winsome, dimpled
smile won him hosts of friends; but he never forgot the dearest friend
of all, his good old Granny. And still as long as evening twilight
lingered, the setting sun, peeping through the western window in the
green frame church, found the two kneeling on the chancel step offering
up the prayer of Faith and Love.