The morning times., 1896-02-09
The K iddi08

preston on the whole face OF the man.
Physically. he was worn out--a mere wreck,
drifting down his remaining days rapidly
aud thankfully i'll trembling hope OF he end
There was but one thing in all that later
time that could rouse him. It was Gre sight
OF little child. Drunk. that sight would
sober him and bow his head in shape lie
felt ut no other time; sober-it sycvId
fill him with a wondering worship that
might even bring his debased soul near TO
holier things. Once they sa W him on a coun-
try road draw back against the hedge a a
pink-faced, blue-cyed little mite went by,
with one chubby hand around its nurses
finger, and take off his shabby hat, and
so stand there until the child was out of
sight.
ANYONE ud think you'd never seen a
kid before" said onSof the men with whom
he walked. with coarse laugh.
Heavens angels" he said, softly. as II
to himself. mo man would choose TO live
but for the hope OF better things the little
ones carry TO US. There is always sOme-
thing of hope left while heavens angels
walk the earth like that. IL I'd had little
one-one little kiGdy-near me might have
been-'
He did not complete the sentence but
walked on in Silence with bowed head.
lie obtained a chance engagement at
last at a large and out-of-the-way place
in the midlards. 1t was winter time, and
the pantomime season was on, and. for
few poor shilliags Il week, ne played many
parts.'' But there was DO future before
him now; to his peer, mudd!ed senses the
only hope seemed a near approaching rest;
wherewithal 10 purchase the liquor that
should soOthe his fancy-people brain and
warm his cold limbs. 1t was fced and life
and ali thugs to him. He was very weak
and very i'll, but be struggled on.
He had dim remembrance of their
crowdiBg about him one night, and OF his
lying on the floor and seeing many faces
whirling about him, aud of some one say
ing that he had tainted. But he struggled
up, with their support. and murmurtd
that he was better and stronger and would
go on again. But they sent him TO his lodg-
ing.
He was back again the next night and the
next. The few siiIIings stood between him
and all things he dreaded.
on that third night the house was packed
from floor to ceiling with children. Busi-
ness had been bad, and the mana ger. with
a view to advertisement had Invited the
various charitable institutions and schools
OF the town to send their children on this
night, specially set apart for them. There
was not a vacant seal in the house; happy
faces looked down from the high gallery
and laughed up from the stalls aud peeped
out OF the cld-faShioned boxes. There was
scarcely u score of adults in the house.
Robin Bland was like one in Fairyland.
Men said he played his small parts, and gave
Off his ancient wheezes as he had never done
before. In the intervals he stood at the
wings and smiled out at them, and rubbed
his thin hands, and murnured again and
again., Heavens angels, Heavens an
geisl''-until he was fmpatientIy shoul-
dered out of the way by men with work in
hand.
In the midst OF all the laughter and the
childish shouts, one awful, awestruck cry
went readily about among the people behind
the scenes-a cry that, ,hushed though it was,
seemed to penetrate everywhere-the cry
.Fire!'
Thecurtain was down at the time between
two of the scenes, and happy. eager uncou-
scious children were chattering and laugh
ing for the fun that was 10 follow.
The manager was like a madman.
"Good heaven!" he cried, with his head in
his hands-'the old place Js like trap.
don't fear the fire-it's the panic. We
sha' get twenty out alivei''
Men ran to and fro, crying contradictory
things; women wept. And, in the midst OF
| it all, one voice rang cut clearly, and with
a decision its tones had never known before:
''Quick, now, you men; there's plenty OF
| water, and it's ready. Come, mentor the
sake OF the kiddies-for heavens angels!
Mr.. Ferguson-do you tell the men. II you
can keep Il under, and get it down, III hold
the little ones quiet, by the Lord, / WILL
That's ii, sir-let me oni''
And he did it. Men said afterward that
in all their lives they never forgot that
sight-the worn-out, pitiable figure OF the
| man dancing ON the stage before that audi
| ence-dancing that dance with the grim
Death that roared behind him to fight
| down-for the sake of the little ones.
He danced; he sang songs that they knew,
| and the childish voices chimed in and rang
| up through the old theater, the while men
| and women toiled ffte demons behind the
scenes to beat down the bright fiend that
| was creeping on to consume them. Men
would run To peer out at him and would
catch sight of the strange figure and of
| the sea of faces that were turned all to
| him, and would stille sob in their throats
| and would run back and work like people
| possessed.
! AS the danger was fought down and done
with, and the possible horror ayerted,
1
CHIEF to his lips and to wipe them. Some
one said that he staggered once and almost
| fell, but that he recovered himself lmme-
diately and danced ON. And when they
called him off at last and he waved bis
| hands to the children and ran off he swa yed
unsteadily for a moment, with his hands to
his breast, and fell into the arms of those
! who clustered about him.
| "Are-are they-safe?'' he murmured.
"Yes-yes, it's all over; the fire is cut,
old chap. You've saved them, old boy
saved thcm-yes-saved them, - he
said, glancing from one face TO another.
| 'But what's the matter Bland? Are you
faint?''
"I-I'm going-going. Something went
| -snap-inside." He touched his breast.
| 'I-feel it-now. See He tried to
raise himself, and light came into the
weary eyes that was not the light Of earth.
"See-there they come-all down there.
| Dont-hold me; they-they're call ing.
Come to bring-a poor wretch--home.
| Look-h heavens angelsr'
| And so he drifted out to them.
They buried him in that quaint old town
| in the old graveyard on the hill The story
became known. and, If you go there now.