The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1901-12-20

many children to feed and must toll
for them early and late, and they used
to say quite openly, with genuine peas.
ant frankness:
"What a pity Hansel could not GO
to be a little angel in Heaven, for
there's no place on earth for one thats
too crook backed to work"
| Hansel heard this so often that he
was quite used to it and really he
thought so, too. 1t set him to dream
ing of how beautiful heaven must he if
nobody there were crooked or hungry
or in the way. He was quite used to
it, yet every time it was said in his
hearing the white soul in his eyes
shone brig liter and he strained to listen
for the song that was always in his ear
but would never come to his lips; the
song that was forever unborn.
At home he was only one Of many,
though the others were straight and
strong. Three or four of them could
do something to help. 1t was only
Hansel who was good for nothing.
Perhaps the poor over-worked mother
did not see the shine in his eyes nor
hear the music of the song that haunted
him, but she never sad, "'twould be
better if he were an angel in heaven" !"
Instead. often at night when the baby
slept. she would take the boy Oh her
lap and cuddle him as she cuddled the
baby. He liked it and she liked it and
it was good for them both. When she
rubbed her tired cheek against his and
crooned her little Groom over him, it all
seemed so to blend with the haunting
melody, that Hanscl felt he knew it by
heart and that one day, perhaps to-
morrow, he should Stout it aloud in
the market place.
He never played with other children.
There were too many rough boys in
the narrow street; lhoughtlrss boys
who ran Oft with his crutch and jeered
at his twisted back. A lo"g flight OF
steep steps led up from the street to
the one room that was his home, and
all day long Hansel sat on the 1opmost
step, with his chin in his hands, look
ing up at the sky. For he loved to
watch the great white banks of cloud
60 drifting over the mountains, and
the flocks of white doves, like flakes off
the same clouds, come softly brooding
over the roof of the old parish church.
Hansel felt at home in the church
where he went every day to listen to
the organ and to read the stories that
were painted, picture-wise, on the win
dows. He loved the tall, pointed spire,
pricking like needle into the sky, in
whose belfry hung the four deep
throated, rich-toned bel s, which, morn
ing and evening, rang out the Angelus.
They sang for him the song he was
always hearing; his own song without
words. The painted windows were his
picture-book. Each window was a
glowing picture and each picture told
him a story. But the story was like
the song, in that it had no words. So
it was that the clouds and the doves,
and the tall church spire, and the
painted windows, and the deep, sweet
roll of the organ-tones mixed them
selves all together with that something
he had once seen some other-where, but
could never find when he locked for it
and with that song of songs that was
dumb ON his lips, though live to aching
in his heart.
Across the street, almost opposite the
steep flight Of steps, was bake-shop.
| This, too, was delight to the lonely
lad He liked the warm, sweet fra
GRANGE from the cake oven, the feel OF
it on his cheek, and the taste of it in
his mouth He liked to watch the hot
rolls being carried upstairs from the
bake-kitchen 10 the shop and tempting.
ly piled on the shelves 1t was fun to
count the endles SIS variety of little cakes
sci away under wire screens So many
OF chocolate, SO many Of orange, then
the fruited and the frosted, the green
and the white, and the yellow-oh, de
liciou>! How he longed to taste of a
cake, just once, and how sure he was
he never should.
Once every afternoon he would swing
himself down the steep flight Of steps
hobbie across the street on his crutcl
and creep up close to the window
For it was about four o'clock that peo
pie began to drop in for coffee or ices
and the shop seemed to blossom int,
bouquets of delicate cakes. Hanse
devoured them all-with his eyes. HI
never left one for manners. He never
dropped even crumb. On. yes, every
afternoon at four he had fine feast.
Now, Hansel could never make III
his mind which he liked best, the bake
shop window full of cakes or the glow
ing church windows painted all ovel
with story pictures. When the fou
bells rang out and the organ playet
and the tall wax tapcrs as thick as BIZ
arm blaz d in squadrons over the hig!
altar, he was perfectly sure he lovet
the church best. But when he wa
very hungry-and Hansel was almos
always hungry-or when a pretty lady