The Benton record. [volume] (Benton, M.T. [Mont.]) 1875-1879, 1876-12-22
aOh father r he cries, "vakenl waken.' =
A muttered curse is the only answer.
"We'll be swept away! Father, the river

~
"Wenl be swept away! Father, the river
is overRowing the town u
Not a word. ofreply came TO, the boy 81
frantic appeal,
"Come, father, come! | hear the water
rushing alongI"
He clasps his fathers hand, and tries, IN
his puny strength, to pull him from his
miserable bed. He falls back. himself
helpless and discouraged.
"Oh, motherr' he cries, ''he isn't fit to
goI I've done my best I've tried to
save him-to make hinn better; to make
him good enough to come=with me to you,
up there, but he will not listen Give him
little longer time. 0, father, waken, it
| is almost too latei"
Too late, too late The river is growing
more fearful, the clamor of voices dying
away the streets. hgg all living people are
deserted. Under the door some -colda and
creeping thing is fast coming. It steals
in slowly, a littlestream at first, then rush
es on faster, crosses the floor, and laps
about the little bare feet.
ooh, father, father, it is here Y and yet
the faithful child stands firmly.
Upward, upward the water rises. 1t COW
ers the cold feet, eddies about the bare
ankles. It strikes chill through the un-
clothed limbs-a deep chill through the
child's heart. He knows then that it is
death coming For himselfhe is not afraid;
but @ God ofmercy must he go, and her
wish not fulfilled? He thinks then OF
that unknown future = Of the great gulf be-
|, tween the good and bad Of the fearful
wickedness of his unkind father Of the an
gelic goodness of his mother; and though
he is too much Of child to clothe. the
thought in words, yet his baby heart real
izes'the terrible tragedy, and he cries aloud
once more
Father, oh father, do not die, and 50 for
ever be kept away from mother and meF'
The sleeping man turns heavily.
"He is neutrality-suspicious. Z at last!
the child cries eagerly.
The water comes up to his waist. L
creeps over the edge ofthe bed and vets the
mouldy straw. 1t reaches the sleeping
man. He mutters YEARLY
Course the cold If had drink Of
whisky | might drive the chill away, but
+ the last dime isgone."
"Oh father, come quick; conel The
7 levee's broken away tits The water that
you feel--it is that which sends the chill
:. over you. Come, father, come
''What! water roaring all about us! ! The
SPrssdd sd rBSG BSSGHiBPohR P Rs ngsHg aBa a not tBP
why didn't you waken me, Tommy? 4ou
know am not fit to die! Here, let me
rest my head en- your shoulder
J He staggered heavily to his feet, crossed
the room unsteadily, nnlatched the door
) and went out into the fearful flood. I
| brought the water to his shoulders. Tom
t my followed dim closely, went down tht
! stems also. It brought the water over Tom
{ my's head
t The drunken man rushed on, making to
ward the bluff tbatlay back from the river
. There was a faint, drowning cry Of "Oh
] father ending in a hoarse gurgle-a lit
. ing up for moment of white face ane
two white childish hands, and then tn
i hands and face were gone-lost amid th
rushing, boiling water.
j A fearful bufeting against the ma'
stream, terrible struggle for WORTHLESS
life, and the sobered inebriate reaches th
), bluff. Then the horrible truth rushes up
en- him. Then he. understands the faitf
fulness Of his dead child-realizes to il
fullest extent that he had sent that child
his death. -
: The morning came. Backed on th
y swaying branch Of an uprooted tree, the
s found a little martyr, his white face CLEAN
y. ing in the sunshine. But the pure youn.
= soul had entered upon that everlastin
M spring Of which be had SO often dreamed
:, with his head lying on his mothers gray
= Two graves then IN the church =ysFd=-=tt=N
= deaths inthe househald--and he resPons
" bic for bothI Could he ever becom
= through bis terrible penitence, good enoaR
to meet them up there He seemed to 81
ne Tommy's tiny haras reaching out to i. u y
lie through the terrible gloom that had settle
as swiftly over him; be seemed 70 bear bin
re Let Us hope that the child's death b
not been in vain, for he for whom he dix
he has turned bis feet away from the. re;
I'd along which destruction marks the wa
RI and his old haunts, where death still lurk
er know him no more. Heaven help him
become worthy of poor, little Tommy, t
n, martyr.
be "A Pennsy ylyania Widow.
lie A correspondent Of Cincinnati pap
n tells rather an extravagant story OF The
x3.E, oc v,:5ovy of his aeauaintanna