The Tipton advertiser. [volume] (Tipton, Cedar Co., Iowa) 1856-1962, 1871-09-21
VIOLIN AND TAMBOURINE.
BY REBECCA PERLEY REED,

BY REBECCA PERLEY REED.
Come, bub, you and the little vi
must take yourselves off: We can
wait here all day, nohow. Two NOR
jobs in our line this afternoon, an
things'll have to fly round lively to d
EN-, that's So"
So saying, the coarse man laid hi
hand in a not unkindly way upon tn
boy, whom the last days record ha,
written "motherless"
It's just as hard for ye, man, last a
fust, and ye may as we'll come to it nov
as an hour hence"
The child gave a convulsive start
"Oh don't take my mother away
Don't, don't,' he sobbed, as he spran,
to the pile Of rags where lay the "earth
ly tenement Of the woman who haC
given him life. No, don't take Nam
N.Y." chimed in a little girls voice
which sounded strangely young anC
fresh, in contrast with her brothers., fol
Timmy's was old and sharp with grie
and hardship.
Don't take on So said the under
taker. L wouldn't now. l aint doin
'on We any harm. She's dead, and can'l
be silver of help to ye now, not sayin
as she was any great afore she came tC
this pass. But it's hard for UNI, Jack
that's so,' he added, drawing his coat
sleeve hastily across his eye, as if lie
were ashamed Of the weakness.
Fact said Jack. "Livin' aint the
easiest thing commonly, but folks is
ready to manage most any way to hu-
NOR it, sooner'n get very intimate with
dyin.'
Well, this aint attendin' to busi-
ness said the first speaker. Come,
sonny, we can't wait no longer, any
how You must let us take herr
"Oh mother! motherW Strange,
was it not: but in that wretched gin
bioated, hunger-h hardened face Of dust,
abode even yet some flicker of the holy
light of maternity, which entered into
league with the mystery of death to ex-
alt it almost to beauty.
From this heap of dishonored dust had
come all :he love and tenderness they
had ever known, to the two desolate
children now standing by it.
Decently, the undertaken and his as
.istant composed the body in a rude pine
coffin, the boy watching them silently,
and the little girl crying that she wanted
her NANNY"
Do you want to go with us out to
the poor lot,' my little man?" said Mr..
Davis respectfully, as he screwed the
last fastening of the narrow house, and
made ready for the descent over the
rickety stairs.
Yes, sir,' answered Timmy. IL
want to go with my mother!' And
graspjng the hand of little Maggie, he
followed his mothers coffin along the
crowded streets, as the wagon which
bore it pursued its course among the le
giOn of vehicles of the pressing city.
The last sod was laid firmly over the
rough mound, and Tim turned with
Maggie back toward the miserable gar
They two might stay there until to-
morrow. Then he must do something
to get living for himself ard her.
She mustn't starve, if he could help it.
The night had fallen. Cold and hun
cry, the two children crept into each
others arms, while the stars looked
down upon them through the roof.
Timmy had been to mission school
once or twice, and knew somewhat about
God. Little Maggie was asleep. The
boy locked through the crevices above
him to one bright star that looked like
a watchful eye that did not go to sleep.
"Oh God" he prayed, II want some.
thing to do for Maggie. She is hungry.
Please help US, and take care Of my
mother, wherever she's gone" and with
q sob, poor Timmy had gone also into a
blessed sleep.
Maggie" said Timmy, the next
morning, "let's hunt round and see if
we can't find that old violin"
What old violin ?" said Maggie.
"Why, don't you remember the ped
dler that gave it to mother one night to
pay for his supper before we came here
to live?"
"Yes," said Maggie, II do.n
Well, mother said it wasn't worth
anything, and gave it to me, an got
so could play some pretty good tunes
on it, but l havn't seen anything of it
since We came to this garret to live"
After joint searchings aud ransack-
ings, at last the children found the old
violin up under the caves. 1t certainly
was not beautiful instrument, but
Timmy found music under the dirty
strings, and soon tho sweet melody of
Home, sweet home,n fioated through
the dreary garret, its comforting notes
making painful contrast with the home
lcsness Of the little musician.
Timmy's hope of bread and butter rose
rapidly as he found his musical powers
intact.
"Hsw l wish you had a tambourine,
Maggie" he said regretfully. Then
you and I'd make lots of money. goin'
ronn1 n folk g hnisaS and mol. in n, u.