Fayetteville observer. [volume] (Fayetteville, Tenn.) 1850-1966, 1880-01-08
The Lonely Child.
"Did she leave any chiIdren2"
eyes, this bit of "a child"
uAnd who'll talye ber2''

"And who'll take her?'
81 don't know. We. are all
very poor around here, sir, but
we must find her a place some
where. God help the little girl,
for she's all alone nowI"
The sexton had called at an
old tenement-housc on Lafay-
ette street east to take a body
to a pauper's ficld-the body Of
one whose life had been worn
out in the tread mill Of hanger
and despair. Nobody knew
that the mother was dead-hard-
ly suspected that she was i'll, ,un-
til one morning this child ap-
tpeared at a neighbor's door and
quietly said:
"Would you be afraid TO
come over to my house, for ma
is dead and | am keeping awful
still, an I'm afraid to talk to her
when she won't answer"
The mother had been dead
four hours. Long enough be-
fore day came the fame of life
had burned low and died out,
and that child, hardly seven
years old, had been with the
corps through the long hours
clasping the cold hand, kissing
the white face, and calling for
life to return. When they ask
cd if she had any friends she
shook her head. When they
told her she was alone in the
great world, she looked out of
the old window on the bleak
November day and answered:
81 can make three kinds of
dresses for doll babies, build
fires and carry IN wood, and I'll
work ever so hard il somebody
will let me live with thcm."
There was no funeral. There
was no need Of a sermon there.
The lines Of sorrow around the
dead woman's mouth counted
for more in heaven than any
Grape. In place of it three or
four honest-hearted women let
their tears fall upon the white
face and whispered:
"Poor mother--poor child!"
The child's big blue eyes were
full of tears, but there was hard
Iy a tremor in her voice as she
nestled her warm cheek against
the lips sealed forever and said:
"Good-by, ma-you'll come
down from heaven every night
at dark, won't you, and you'll
take me up there just as soon as
you can, won't you?'
The landlored locked up the
house.. and the child went home
with one of the women. When
night came she stole out Of the
house and away from those who
sought to comfort her, and going
back to the old house she sat
down on the doorstep, having
no company but the darkness.
An officer passed that way, and
leaning over the gate he. pecred
through the darkness at some
thing on the step, and called
out:
"Is anybody there?"
"Nobody but a little grill"
came the answer.
"Who is it?"
dts little girl whose ma
was buried to-dayp'
lie opened the gate and went
closer, and as he made out her
little bare head and innocent
face, ne said:
"Why, child, arn't you a.
fraid?p
81 was afraid a little while
age" she said, "but just assoon as
| asked ma not to let anybody
hurt me / got right over il.
Would any body dare hurt lit
tie girl whose ma is dead? They
could be tooken up, couldn't
they?"
lie offered to GO with her to
the house where she was to have
a home a few days, and taking
his big hand with the utmost
confiC&4ce she walked beside
him, and said:
81 amt going TO cry much
until / get to bed, where folks
can't see me-"
81 hope that every one will be
good to you," he remarked, as
he put his hand over her curly
head.
eff they don't they'll never
60 to heaven, will they?" she
queried.
"No."
There was long pause, and
then she said:
"But ] guess they will be. /
can make doll out of a clothes
nh, and n niaoa of ea1ico. and