Sullivan republican. [volume] (Laporte, Pa.) 1883-1896, 1892-01-08

you Win tnaI Dig Duncn o. yourn, Il
thought how it might cheer her up a
bit to hold 'em in her poor little thin,
white hand at the last"
The child was crying softly now, the
tears were falling right into the faces of
her cherished flowers. The mothers
eyes grew brighter than their wont,
while the man went on, his hands still
trembling.
"Yes, poor little Rosy! took her
and her ma off in the country. way up
on Long Island, last summer, hoping the
change of air might tone her up bit.
But it didn't do no good. There was just
about enough of her body left to hold
her little soul when we got back, and it
had wore away so thin that you could
almost see through it. 1 knew she
couldn't hold on much longer, but it's
awful tough on her ma, though, just the
same"
Here the poor fellow brushed the back
of his hand across his eyes. 1t shook
terribly.
eyes, she used to sit up on the pile o.
sweet hay out in the meadow, where she
could look clean across the Sound on to
the blue hills wey over in Connecticut.
She called it her Land of Beulah Some
of her Sunday school lingo, l reckon.
Any way, her little crutches was there
handy, and l would bring her great
loads o. daisies and them yaller things
that smell like pizen. 1 called 'em
weeds, but she said they was golden
rods. She'd string the daisies into long
chains, and tie the Others up in posies.
She always called me 'Uncle Rod for
short. My right name is Roderick. But
after that she never called me anything
but Golden Rod, and | reckon it was
all on account of them flowers. Never
mind, sissy Don't feel bad. You
needn't sell me your flowers if you dent
want to-"
BY this time, the little girl was crying
hard. Her mothers arm held her close,
but with an irresistible impulse she Sob
bed out: ooh, mister! l can't sell you
the flowers, but want to give them to
you for little Rosie! Here, take them
ALL and, Oh, dear, hope she won't dieI
Can't the doctor do something to make
her get we'll, mammal The child was
fast becoming hysterical. The next cor
ner was their stopping place, and her
mother hurried her off the car.
Just as she was passing out, an old
fellow in the corner seat, stretched forth
his hand and touched the hem of heF
simple, brown dress. AS he did so, he
blew his nose with great snort on
big, red bandanna to make believe he
wasn't crying, and then he whispered
softly. under his breath, "God bless the
child! !"
But the pathos of this little incident
was to find yet further expression. A
moment later there was little Jolt, the
quick scream of a child, aud the sound
OF mans voice, swearing horribly.
"Look sharp! ye little imp!" he yelled
as he pulled up his horses with a sudden
jerk. A little child lay close beside the
track. Its rag of hat was crushed
upon the rail, and the skirt of its calico
frock had been cut clean in two, by the
edge of the heavy wheel. 1t was mere
tot this time.
"Hebbens and earf," she screamed.
"I'se all ruined ober, an me mudder's
that might have aroused the dead. A
policeman came over from the corner to
see what the row was about. The child
was too little to club and so he took her
in his arms and tried to soothe her with
kindly words. A crowd began to
gather and she walled yet louder still.
81 tells you me mudder's lost an I'm all
runned ober! l wants me mudder"
she screamed, with both fists jammed
tightly in her eyes. The tears were
washing white streaks on the grimmy
little face, and fluffy tendrils of tangled
gold strayed about her temples.
swell, never mind! Don't cry, baby,
but come with me and we'll find your
mother" said the big kind hearted
policeman, while he tenderly lifted the
weeping child and got on the car. He
took the seat just vacated by the little
girl who had carried the flowers, and
tried to comfort the poor waif by show
ing her the big brass buttons on his coat
and promising to buy her some candies.
But all to no purpose. Her poor little
heart was broken, and she could cnly
cry, 81 want my mudder! want my
mudder" Everybody thought what a
pretty child she would be if her face
were only clean. Her startled eyes we're
like two big purple pansies ana her hair
the color of marigold. The man With
the flowers conldn't stand it any longer.
He had stared hard at an advertisement
on the opposite side of the car without
blinking to keep the tears back, and now
he thrust the shining coin into the grmy
hand of the poor waif.
"Take it, sis, ana don't cry" he said.
tTell the copper yer name, and he'lltake
you to yer mar. Poor thing! l reckon
she wants you as bad as you want her,
and she's cryin' her eyes out about you
this blessid minute. Take the dDllar
home to her and tell her to buy ye some
little shoes. She'll have you back all
safe an sound. But my little gals mar,
that Pm takin' these flowers to-" he
added, sadly, as he stopped the car,
"won't have her back again, no more,
foravar ~ No,, YorL Na1no