The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-05-02
ssTommy."
A PLAIN SKETCH, PLAINLY TOLD.

Tommy? Yes, sir, that's his name,
An young or old it II be the same
To me ez longs live. He's jist ~thirteens
But a smarter boy wuz never seen.
He kin read, an write, an fgger, Amy
he kin whitewash me an not hat try!
Wy, sir. wen he wuz unly three
He'd set up here long side O. me
An listen t ali / he'd to say
In SIGH a Gurus, comical way
That I'd laff an holler till I got SO sore
| couldn't holer emmy more.
An his mother, too, she'd chuckle an grin
An hol 'er sides an weave 'er chin
Bakaards an for ards-here an there
Like a bunch o. good humor see-sawin' the air.
Oh, he wuz smart for little chap
Come nat'ral you see from mother'n pap!
But 18th out emmy jokin-he's smarter me.
An there's where bis mother n / alluz agree.
Pale2 Yes, a little, an kind O. slim,
An / reckon that's wy we've tho't more O him
Than of the rest. We love him better n we do our
souls,
An / 'spect, wen the tide O. eternity rolls
Down our way, an mother n me
In death undertow are carried to sea-
Our last tho'ts IL be o. that boy.
AoAiiHs . Ito III i We e6ut Htu "
Ware he wanted to go; for 1 don't b1ieve in the old
fashioned rule
o. bringin' boys up ez we hev been brot,
Ner in teachin' EN- things ez we hev been tot;
But l do b1ieve in givin' EN- all a fair show
An lettin' 'em foller ware their minis wants to go;
At least them's my idees, be they right or wrong.
An eff I've been mistaken, Tommy, fore long
Will show fist how much an show in what way
Fer he's been gone a year, iist TO a day.
lis kinder lonesome wen he's not at hum,
An a years a long time. but wen he does como
I'll jit be so happy an feel that proud
That the highest, high foatin', mere speek of a cloud
Wont be emmy lighter'n I'll feel.
Tommy's at home ans he's come home t. stay;
But wen he got here, all the brightness O day
Fer mother Ia me faded right out o. sight
Feared TO melt right away, an the middle O. night
Couldn't be emmy darker, ner filled 18th more gloom
Than the space that's inclosed in that ar little room.
Tt shouldn't be so, coz Tommy's in there;
But it's no place fer me; an the hot, scorchin' air
Wich comes thro' that door, jist makes me that weak
That / can't hardly stand-I don't try ~t'speak;
My hart all the time feels heavy ez lead,
An things are all twisted aroun' in my head;
My throat keeps a swellin', an my eyes git dim
'Ith tears ! can't hep wen I think about him.
The house is that quiet an solum' an still
1t don't seem like home, an I'm 'fraid never will
Evermore. The birds act like they wuz sorry for me.
Fer they amt a bit wild like they're us'n to be;
An the low, purity tunes they keeps tryin' t sing.
To me. amt got the same musical ring
They had onct. Even the leaves and the long wavin'
grass
Seem to know suthin's wrong, fer they bend ez I
pass.
Fer me everything S wrong, an a suthin' inside
All the time keeps a hummin': TOO much airthly
pride
In any one thing must be humbled."
The Bible SEE: Worship no idul O. stup,
Nor idul o flesh, - an we've worshiped one
Fer days an fer years; but now it's torn down.
God teaches hard lessons, but it's no use to frown
At his teechin', ner complain O. the way
He stops folks frum worshipsin' iduls O. clay.
Fer He knows bettern they.
Chris Van Deyanter.
VEEDERsBuRG, April 81, 1885.