, 1878-07-25
A Small Martyr.

1t 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been originally made.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, beggarIy. Poor, little, beggarly
Tom!
There was hungry look in the boys
great honest eyes-fur, 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
ave seen him all alone in the great
churchyard, 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 understood
that Toms greatest need was to be gath
cred up into some ones great, warm,
caressing love.
He was only baby now this seven
years old boy--prematurely old through
his woeful experiences of the great world
about him. How he came into this world,
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 reason
that one white, sweet face that had bent
lovingly over him should have been laid
away forever with the damp ground lying
heavily and immovably about. He re-
membered the last words those pale
mothers lips had said, and in his baby
heart had treasured them as a sacred
trust.
"Tommy, stay by the father; be true
to him; try to make him better, SO that
we may he all together there
Then, with the white face turned toward
the open window, through which the dis.
tant blue sky was visible, the last spark
of life went out, and Tommy'S head rested
upon the bosom Of the dead.
An unsteady step had come up the
walk through the broken gate, and dark
shadow had fallen upon the sunlit floor.
Tommy 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 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 o God too late, too late! |"
He cowed down over his dead-he
clasped his hard hands in agony, tore at
his uncombed hair-but there was no
awakening; as poor little mothcress
Tommy had said, "She was asleep at
last"
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 wistfully up to him. How
often had he seen that look in the eyes
once bright and loving, now dim and for
ever closed
"POor little Tommy" he said, and
folded the lonely little fellow to his
bosom.
~ will never go away from you," the
boy cried, his heart full of gIadness 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
toward the blue sky, and the man shud-
dered, for to him the gulf lying between
his present life aud the one which he felt
assured she had entered, seemed i'm
passable.
For a 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 silence,
his little heart beating painfully, for we'll