The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1874-09-25
TODsY tumble.

DIG WHO'LL u btlNt SOlU VI u RlIl LII OllC
who had been brought up IN an alley
all her days, living with old Mother
Hart ever since she was large enough
to gather chips around the ship-yard.
The boys called her Topsy Tumble, and
nobody knew anything about her pa
rents or relatives. Her hair was long
and matted her face tanned to brown
her nose always bore stain of dirt, and
she had stone-bruises on her feet, and
chapped hands and sore heels, just like
the ragged boys with whom she played.
The "society" of tho alley rather cut
Topsy Tumble, but she was independ-
ent, and she made faces at society"
from the top of coal sheds, and allowed
herself to be harnessed up beside Bob
White when the boys wanted blooded
team to draw a creaking cart down
around the railroad crossing.
The alley was unusually quiet the
other week. Topsy Tumble was sick.
Mother Hart said so when Bob White
went to see if Topsy wanted to trade
her old jack. knife for a small dog which
he had picked up on Atwater street. 1t
was strange thing, her illness. For
eleven years she had rolled in the dirt,
waded through the snow and FLASHED
around in the mud, and nobody had ever
heard her complain of anything more
than stubbed toe. Bob couldn make
it out. He and Bill Davis and Sam
Sharp and Chip Larkins sat in the
shade of truck wagon going to decay,
and talked it over. 1t would be rough
on Mother Hart to have sickness and
bear doctors bill, and they wondered
if Topsy would get well in time to go
out with them the next week.
The doctor said it was bad fever,
and most of the folks in John Brown
alley called in to say that they would
sit up nights and do anything they could.
Topsy was out of her head, talking
strange things, and, after looking at her
flushed face and listening to her NUT
terings, Bob White called the boys to-
gether on top of a coal shed, and there
was a lump in his throat as he whis
pered
"Boys, Topsys a-goin' to die 70
The boys looked around over the
sheds and made no reply, and by and
by they slid down one by one and went
home. There was no more dog fighting
in the alley-no pounding of fire alarms
Ou buG OlOl SltdulDOdb ulO tllCA
rushing the "masheen" up to the
corner. Columbus Jones brought his
rooster down and wanted to bet kite
that he could clean out any chicken in
John Brown alley, but the boys had no
enthusiasm.
Topsy grew worse. The doctor called
twice day, but his medicine didn't
touch the case, and he told Mother
Hart that Topsy must die. The old
woman felt little weak and her eyes
grew misty. 1t had been a score of
years since she had wept for grief, and
she could not remember when she had
thought of death. tH
The neighbors came in, and they tip
toed across the room, and kept their
babies still that the dying girl might
hear no harsh sound. Bob White and
his chums hung around the door awhile,
and finally gathered courage to pull off
their hats and enter the house. Mother
Hart motioned for them to take seats
on the bench at the foot of the bed, and
and she whispered in a weak voice:
Bob, I'm afeard we're going to lose
Topsy ~
Bob wiped his eyes and his chin
IuiNCiCb, uLNl oOLlC VI tnC OOyo DIOhC
clear down and wept.
Topsy was unconscious The boys
wondered at the pallor of her face and the
whiteness OF her hands, and they saw
that her matted hair had been cut short.
The women shed tears. Mother Hart
kept wiping her eyes on her apron, and
the boys wondered if sitting there wasn't
something like going to meeting.
"She was good girl, Topsy was, Z"
whispered one of the women.
"And so willing to help her mother, 4"
said another.
"And she stood up for John Brown
alley % added Bob White. sob in his
throat.
Darkness settled down and they al
most lost sight of the white face. No
one moved. Some of the babies fell
asleep, and the mothers trotted them
softly, and the boys almost dozed as
they sat crooked up on the bench. The
shadows of night grew deeper, and the
rattle of truck going home sounded
painfully loud and harsh. Mother
Hart moved softly over and lighted the
little old lamp, and as she held it up
the woman said (: "Poor dear - and
Bob White leaned over on Chip
Larkins' shoulder and sobbed aloud.
Topsy Tumble was dead
The little soul, never washed by
mothers tears-never made better by
word about heaven-never drinking il
the knowledge that only the body dies
had crossed the dark valley alone
having only the tears and heartaches o
the dwellers in John Brown alley t.
plead its case with the angels. -Detroi
Free Press.