Osage Valley banner., 1881-04-21
TOM.

Ohs out " was cOlut lTeehllg, DltlnR,
bitter cold and dark, too; for the feeble
gas-lights, leaping and flaming as the
gale whistled by, hardly frightened the
gloom u dozen PAGES around them. The
wind tore through the streets as II il
had gone mad; whirlng before IL dust
and snow, and every movable thing it
could lay is clutching hand upon. A
poor old battered kite, tlat, some time
last autumn. had lodged far up in the
tallest tree In tne neighborhood, and
had there rested peacefully ever since,
believing its labors nj an end, was
snatched. dragged from its nest, aud
driven unpityingly before the blast
Some feeble efforts it had made TO
dodge into corners, lurking behind steps
and diving into areas; but not bit of
it Down would swoop the wind, and
of 1t would go again.
At last driven around one of the long
row of barrels, that stood like wletched
sentincls along the sidewalk edge, it
flew into the very arms of a small boy,
who, seated on tho curb.stone, crouch
ed down in the barrel somewhat ques-
tionable shelter. Such very small
boy He looked like nothing in the
world but little heap Of rags; and the
rags we're very thin, and the small boy
was very cold. His nose his ears. his
hands and his poor bare feet were blue.
He was almost too cold to shiver, Ger.
tainly too cold TO rotice the unfortunate
kite, which, as It's enemy, the wind, ap-
preached with roar, seemed to cover
close 20 him. as if begging his protec-
ton. Round both sides OF the barrel at
once came the wind, shook hands right
through poor little Tom, and, bowling
with delight, rushed Off with its msera-
BILE victim.
Tom THAT was all the name he
had. Who he was or where he came
from no one knew, except, perhaps,
the wrctched old woman with whom he
lived; which meant that she let him
sleep upon pile of rags on the floor
of her miserable room, and sometimes
gave him q crust, and oftener blow.
When she was drunk and that was the
greater part of the time--Tom took to
the streets; and by night she was very
drunk. The boy was perhaps some
six years old; but rs he covered down
on the cold 1ag-stones, with his worn,
pinched face and dropping head, he
might have been hundred.
A carriage came rattling through the
icy street, and stopped close by him.
The door was pushed open, and two
children half tumbled out, and. leaving
the door swinging, rushed up the steps.
Tom watched them stupidity, heard the
quick, sharp ring Of the bell, caught a
glimpse of something that looked very
bright and warm, and then it was dark
again. He turned his eyes toward the
carriage, expecting II to drive of
again; but IL still stood there. The
coachman sat upon the box like a furry
monument One of the horses struck
the stones sharply with his iron hoof,
and cast an inqnirlng glance around,
but the monument sat unmoved.
Toms heavy eyes looked through the
open door into the carriage. Dark as
it was, he could see that it was lined
with something thick and warm. He
raised his head and glanced about him.
1t he were inside there the wind could
not touch him. Oh, If he only could
get away from it one minutel He
would slip out again the moment the
house door opened. Unbending his
stiff little body, he crept nearer, hest
tated lioment, and. as the wind came
round the corner with roar, slipped
swiftly and noiselessly into the car
riage. IE the further corner OF the
seat he curled himself into a littlC
round heap, and lay, with beating
heart, listening to the wind as it swepi
by.
II was very quiet in his nest, and the
soft velvet was much warmer than the
cold llagstones, and he was very tired
and very cold, and in hall a minute he
was sound asleep He did not know
when at last the house door opened and
lady, gathering her cloak closely
around her, came down the steps-dic
not know even when the suddenly ami
mated monument descended from III
pedestal and stood solemnly by th'