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

| - 0IvuANHS fHt - y
It was almost impossible to tell the
material of which TOmmy's pants had
been originally made. Patch by patch
is said to be neighborly, but patch upon
patch, beggarly. Poor, little, beggarly
Tom!
There was a hungry look in the boys
great honest eyes-for despite his rags
it was known to the neighborhood that
Tom was honest-that no amount OF good
food could Danish. Heaven knows the
but his lonely little heart Jonged for
something more than this. Could you
have seen him all alone in the great
ohurchyard, laying his poor, tired head
down on his mothers grave, and Wetting
the green sod with the bitter tears,
wrung from his tortured heart in his
lonely agony, then you would have un-
derstood that Toms greatest need was
to be gathered up into some ones great,
warm, caressing love.
He was only baby now-this seven
wears old boy--prematurely old through
his woetul experiences of the great
world about him. How he came into this
Eworld, and the reason of his coming, was
as much mystery to him as it is to the
most profound philosopher that ever un-
dertook to elucidate the subject.
Neither could he understand the rea-
son that one white, sweet face that had
bent lovingly over him, should have been
laid away forever with the damp ground
living heavily and immovably about it.
He remembered the last words those
pale mothers lips had said, and in his
baby heart had treasured them as a sa-
cred trust.
"Tommy, stay by the father; be true
to him; try to make him better, so that
we may be all together there"
Then, with the white face turned to.
ward the open window, through winch
the distant blue sky was visible, the
last spark of life went cut, and Tommy's
head rested upon the bosom Of the dead.
An unsteady step had come up the
walk through the broken gate, and a
dark shadow had fallen upon the sunlit
floor. Tommy lifted his head.
"Hushr he said, with his small fin
ger on his lips; "after SO much pain,
she's asleep at last"
Over the bloated face look of horror
came, and into the bleared eyes the hot
| tears gushed and rolled slowly down the
coarsened cheeks.
"Nary, O Mary darlingl speak to me
once more! o God! too late, too latew
He covered down over his dead-he
| clasped his hands in agony, tore at his
uncombed hair-but there was no awak-
ening; as poor, little, moth motherless Tommy
| Such II little time it had been since she
was a happy, laughing girl, her step as
light as fawn's, roses blooming in her
| cheeks, and her glad young heart full of
| life and love. And now? Lying there
cold and still, with her thin, pulseless
| fingers laid over her broken heart!
Through all the indifference those
years of drinking had imbued him with,
this fact appealed to him, clearing his
brain of its indistinct ideas, and bring
| ing his mind face with the terrible truth.
lie had killed her. He didn't need
twelve men to assure him Of this; his
conscience was faithful accuser. He
looked back over the few years of her
married life-remembered how she had
| come to him with her heart full of love,
and her hands willing to give all needful
help: remembered too, the beast he had
made of himself. He had scoffed at
| temperance stories-at reiterated warm
| ings-at friendly words implying that
there was danger to him. He was strong
and great-his nerves steady, his brain
glass of wine!
From one glass it went to two, then
more than two, from one night out with
a party of friends, it went on to two
nights, then more than this; from laugh
ing pleasantly at his wite's gentle re-
mOnstrances, it came to rough words
spoken unkindly; from one business loss
| through growing incapacity, 1t came
down to utter failure-total ruin.
He knew all OF this; and now that
Mary was dead he had grown so sober
Even he had not heard her last words.
Had there been any thought of him?
He was too rem0rseful in this the first
hour of his grief to think of Mary's child,
but the thought came to him at last. He
was not entirely alone. The boy, with
his mothers dark grey eyes, was looking
wistiully up to him. How often had he
seen that look in. the eyes once bright
and loving. now dim and forever closed.
"Poor little Tommy" he said, and
folded the little fellow to his bosom.
~ will never go away from you," the
boy cried, his heart full of gladness at
the unwonted caress.
"She said-'be true to father, and try
to make him better, SO that we may be all
together there.'"
He pointed with his little finger to-
| ward the blue sky, and the man shud-
dered, ,ifor to him the gulf lying between
his present life and the one which he felt
assured she had entered, seemed impass.
able.
For q little time he kept sober; but
there came night when Tommy waited
his coming in vain. The old Life had not
faded from the boys mind. When he
heard his step, he covered down in 81
lence, his heart beating painfully, fol
well he remembered the cruelty OF the
heavy hand, and she was not here tc
turn aside the unmerited blow. All! i,
is an old story; no words are pathetic
enough to do it justice.
The house in which Tommy lived, and
where the father slept in drunken stupor
was near the. levee in the great city
Among the many neglected children,
houseless and uncared for, it is no won
der that Tommy should be destitute
And yet the small bit of humanity strug
gled bravely tor his livelihood, 1t was
his own small fingers that had 30 care
fully repaired the worn pants, that now
and then washed the tattered shirt, and
tried, in memory OF the sainted mother
to make himself whole and clean, as she
had loved him. And yet the poor little
etfigy of older humanity, with his ole
ways often made caricature OF himself
and the passer-by would turn with q
smile to catch another glimpse Of ths
strange creature.
Brimless hat, old shoes, immensely toe