The star. (Cincinnati [Ohio]) 1874-1875, 1875-03-17

watched him, who shall dare say how
glorious he seemed to her?
While the summer lasted 1t was not SO
great a struggle to live, but when the
winter came en- with its fierce winds,
which searched through and through the
miserable dwelling, finding ali Of the
crevices, and sending in with its 10y,
whistling breath the cold, then it was
that little Tommy drew his rags closer
about him, and carefully replenished out
OF his miserable store OF Water-sOaked
wood his scanty fire. .,.
Then it was too, that he would look out
through the falling snow, and listen
with one little hand held to his ear for
his drunken fathers step. And, finally,
If the hour grew late, he would hurry
away toward the town, and watch along
the road OF linger in front OF the low
groggery where he was sure to be, for
the nights were cold; and had not sh @
SAID, "Tommy, take care of the father"
If he should fall down by the way and
die by himself, what would the mother
say to him-Tommy-who had let him
die unfit to be therep
1t was great care on the boys young
hands. And often he was cursed, and
beaten, and kicked, and bruised. and his
little loving heart tortured and lacer-
ated, until it would have been mercy
had God taken him from the world
| Who Tommy was, seemed to have
1t was in in the spring that we knew
him. Attention had been called to the
sadness of his case, and several ladies'
took 1t upon themselves to make him an
offer of q better home.
"Thank you, madam, but have him to
care for. He isn't much to me, as you
say, but he was great deal to her, and
| ii he fails to meet her up there, Pm sure
she'd not care to stay. l am to make
him better. l don't know-I can't see
how l am to do lt-but somehow it must
be done. He doesn't care for me,
know, and he'd be glad ii / was dead !;
| tired of trying to live on without her.
Thank you all the same, but l can't
leave him."
No amount OF persuasion could turn
the little fellow aside from his resolu-
tion. He adhered to it with stubborn
ness that was eXasperating to the kind
hearts longing to aid him.
Often the child went supperless, that
the father might have crust of bread,
and the only thanks he received for his
sacrifice was curse because it was not
better or more.
Spring came on, with it's warm rains, and
and the uplands, and had filed the great
river to overt1owing. The people were
talking in the streets of the great en-
bankmenr: of the fearful cOnse-
quences should the leyee break away.
Tommy's father had come staggering
home at twelve O'Clock, and, too much
intoxicated TO undress, had laid down in
his clothes. 1t was raining fearfully,
but above the noise of the rain could be
heard the mad roar of the river, as it
dashed onward, past the alarmed city.
OF a sudden, bell sounds, ringing out
clearly above the storm-ab0ve the deaf
ening roar. There is wild shouting in
the street-and voices crying OUT
"Back! back from the river, for your
lives, back! the levee is giving wayr
White-faced Tommy heard this, and
tugs with all his might at the drunken
man sleeping so near DEATHS door.
"Oh, fatherW he cries, awaken
wakenW
A muttering curse is the only answer.
"We'll be swept away! Father, the
river is overflowing the toWnV.
No words reply to the boys frantic ap-
peal.
"Come, father, comel hear the water
rushing alongv,
He clasps his fathers hand, and tries,
in his puny strength, to pull him up from
his miserable bed. He falls back him
self, helpless and discouraged.
"Oh, motherW he cries, "he isn't fit to
gol I've done my best! I've tried to
save him-to make him better; to make
him good enough to come with me to you,
up there; but he will not listen! Give
him a little longer time. Oh, father,
waken, it's almost too lateW
Too late, too latel The river Is grow
ing more fearful, the clamor Of voices
dying away, the streets, by all living be.
ings, are.deserted. Under the door some
cold and creeping thing is fast coming
in. 1t steals III slowly, little stream at
first, tnen rushes on faster, crosses the
floor, and laps about the little bare feet.
"Oh, father, father, it is her!" and yet
the faithful child stands firmly.
Upward, upward, the water rises. 1t
covers the cold feet, eddies about the
bare ankles. 1t strikes chill Through
the unclothed limbs-a deep chill
through the child's heart. He knows
then that it is death coming! For him
self he is not afraid: but, Oh, God Of
mercy! must he go, and her wish unful-
tilledY he thinks then OF that unknown
future; of the great gull between the
of his unkind father; of the angelic'good-
ness OF his blessed mother; and though
he is too much of child to clothe the
thought in words, yet his baby heart
realizes the terribleitragedy, and he cries
out aloud again.
"Father, oh, iather, do not die, and so
| forever be kept away from mother and
me!'
The sleeping man turns heavily.
"He Is awakening-awake at
last!" the child cries, eagerly.
The water comes up to his waist. 1t
creeps over the edge OF the bed and wet
the mouldy straw. 1t reaches the sleep
ing man.. He mutters wearily,-
"Curse the coidl II had a drink OF
whisky i might drive the Chill away; but
the last dime is gone." -,
| "Oh, father, come quick, come! The
levee's broken awayl 1t Is water that
You feel-it ls that which sends the cnlIl
over you. Come, father, cOmeW
| "What! water roaring all about US :
The cursed river in the room, and not
stream OF old bourbon flowing by as 1
dreamed! Why didn't you waken me,
Tommy? You know l am not fit to die
Here, let me rest my hand on your shoul-
der"
He staggered heavily to his feet.
Crossed tine room unsteadlly, unlatched
the door and went out into the fearful
flood. In going out he went down two
| ekona II hronrI,f ha xuotor to hic ehoul