Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1869-05-13
fur the Muttte Girtle.
LITTLE AMY'S STORY.

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LITTLE AMY's STORY.
Look here, little one; where are you 60,
ing? You should not be on the street
alone"
Little Amy looked into the motherly
face of the questioner, but she did not ans,
wer. She was a bashful little thing, only
four years old. She scarcely looked three,
she was so little.
cit is growing dark" continued the kind
neighbor. cit will be night, soon, and then
you will get lost. Run home, that's good
girl"
81 is going after my papa," said the
child.
"Oh no; you can't find him. See how
full the streets are. The horses will run
over you. Let me lead you home to your
mother. Your papa will come pretty soon. "
She took the little cold hand in hers,
but the child pulled it aw-y, and pushing
past her, ran rapidly down the street.
"Ah! we'll, said the woman, taking up
heavy basket of clothes that she had set
down on the sidewalk while speaking to lit.
tie Amy, 81 have no time to run after her:
She must take her chance. I hope she Il
come to no harm, for-There she's gone
into Meg Quillan's rum hole. She's after
her father-the drinking wretch Letting
his family starve, and he earning more
than any man on the street,
The woman was right-little Amy was
looking for her father; and, young as she
was, mere baby, she knew where to look
for him.
He was sitting before the fire in the low
drinking house, half stupefed with the Ii.
quor he had taken since finishing his days
work. He was large, strongly built man,
with an easy, careless manner, and dispo'
sition almost hopelessly obliging. We say
hopelessly, because it was this same amia
BILE trait of character which made him on
easy prey to the liquor,seller.
The rum-seller, in this case, was big
noisy Irish woman, with very red face
and very dirty cap. She had loud
harsh voice, which was not at all mellowed
by her own frequent visits to the demijohn
There were number of men and women
in the room, going through the various
stages of intoxication some silly, some
sullen, some quarrelsome.
But the man before the fire, little Amy's
father, sat apart from the rest, and did moi
seem to see or hear anything about him.
"Don't 60 to slape there, my man" said
the landlady, giving him a rough push
"Yell be pitchin on the stove next. Move,
an we're alive till I set off the kittle.'
Little Amy stole noiselessly into the
room and crept up between her fathers
knees just. as the huge dinner-pot was Sc,
on the hearth. The cover was half off, and
the child, who had eaten nothing all day,
gazed hungrily into it, with an intense
longing for some of the contents. A large
head Of cabbage was simmering on the top,
sending its appetizing odor out into the
room, and giving pleasant reminder to
the fortunate idlers who happened to have
any suppers of their own to partake of.
They began to leave for their various homes,
but little Amy's father did not stir. He
knew that all his earnings-and they were
not small-were spent in that vile room,
and that the cupboard at home was empty.
So he sat still.
Little Amy leaned over his knee to get a
little nearer to the dinner-pot, and then
can you blame the baby. thief ?-she reach
ed out her poor little hand, and with her
tiny fingers picked bit of the cabbage
A heavy blow from the womans strong
hand would have sent her headlong on to
the hearth, if her father had not caught her.
"I'll tache .ye to stale, ye beggar's brat" ,"
screamed the woman, catching hold of lit
tie Amy's arm, and shaking her in spite of
her fathers hold on her.
He started up from his seat with def
ant look on his face that she had never seen
there before. The mans soul was aroused.
'Let the child alone," he said. "Touch
her again if ye dare. Can ye not see that
the lassie is starving the day."
can who is to be blamed for that same,
Terence Maloney? Who but yerself, ye
born fool?"
"You say true, Meg Quillan," said the
man, reaching for his hat, and buttoning
his coat as he spoke. can it's the FOOLS
wages as has paid for your cabbage this
many day. Ill do it no more. Coon,
Amy, wisha there'll be cabbage for yees
at home after this and mate too, I'm think
ing"
A derisive laugh followed him as he took
the child in his arms and strode out of the
house.
"He'll be back for his dram directly, -
said the woman, laughing. "It'll be a long
day before he'll 60 to bed without that"
But he did not come back. Day after
day passed by and Terence Maloney did
not once cross the vile threshold. Not a
word did he say to his wife of his good res
olutions. He watched her going and COM
ing to her work with worn and discoura-
ged look on the face which was so bright
and happy but six years ago; but he said
nothing to cheer it until Saturday evening,
when his wages for the week were paid.
Then, after sending home food and fuel,
he entered his door with feeling that he
had recovered in part his lost manhood, and
had right to speak. Little Amy met him
first. 80, papa!' she exclaimed, "there's
such heap of good things come. But
NANNY saws thew can't belong to u.s.