The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1878-05-03
M isc lila N @ O u g.
A Small Martyr.

1t was almost impossible to tell the ma
terial of which Tommy's pants had been
originally made. Patch upon patch is said
to be neighborly, but patch upon patch,
beggarly. Poor, little, beggarly Tom
There was 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 poor
child needed food sorely enough, but his
lonely little heart longed for something
more than this. Could you have seen him
his poor, tired head down ON his mothers
grave, and wetting the green sod with Bit
ter tears, wrung from the tortured heart, in
his lonely agony, then you would have un-
derstood that Toms greatest need was to
be gathered up into some ne'sgreat, warm,
caressing love.
He was only baby now-this seven
year old prematurely old through his
woefu experiences ofthe great world about
him. How he came into this world, and
the reason of his coming, was as much a
mystery to him as it is to-the most pro-
found philosopher that ever undertook to
elucidate the subject.
Neither could he understand the reason
that one white, sweet face that had bent
lovingly over him ahould have been laid
away forever with the damp ground lying
heavily and immovably about it. He re-
membered the last words those pale moth
er's lips had said, and in his baby heart
had treasured them as a sacred trust.
"Tommy, stay by thy father; be true to
him try to make him better, so that we
may he altogether there"
Then, with the white face turned toward
the open window, through which the dis
taht blue sky was visible, the last spark of
life went out, and Tommy's head rested
upon tue bosom of the dead.
An unsteady step had come up the walk
through the broken gate, and dark shad-
ow had fallen upon the sunlit floor. Tom
my lifted his head.
"Hush !" he said, with his small finger
on his lips; latter so much pain she's
asleep at last"
Over the bloated face a look of horror
came, and into the bleared eyes the hot
tears gushed and rolled slowly down the
coarsened cheeks.
"Mary, o Mary, darling, speak to me once
more D God too late, too late ~
He covered down over his dead-he
clasped his hands in agony, tore at his un :
combed huir-but there was no awaken
ing; as poor, little, motherless Tommy had
| said, "She was asleep at last y
He was too remorseful 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 gray eyes, was looking visit
fully up to him. How often he had seen
that look in the eyes once bright and low
ing, now dim and forever closed.
"Poor little Tommy" he said, and he
folded the lonely little fellow to his bosom
II will never go away from you," the boy
cried, his heart full of gladness at the un,
wonted caresses. "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 toward
the blue sky, and the man shuddered, foi
to him the gulf lying between his present
life and the one which he felt assured she
had entered seemed impossible.
For Il little time he kept sober, but there
came night when Tommy waited his com.
ing in vain. The old life had not faded
from the boys mind. When he heard his
step he covered down in silence, his little
heart beating painfully, for we'll he remem
bered the cruelty of the heavy hand and
she was not here to turn aside the unmerit
ed blow. Ali it is an old story; no wordi
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 great city. 1t wal
raining fearfully, but above the noise of thu
rain could be heard the mad roar of thu
river, as it dashed onward past the alarm
ed city.
Ola sudden, bell sounds, ringing GU
clearly above the storm-above the deafen