F 855 S The Story of Patsij KATE DOUGLAS SMITH IVRTTT.EN AND TO />'/ .sv)A/) /VA' /7/A' BENEFIT Ol- I'll I'. .VA'/r SILVER STRKKT AV.V/?AViV;.-/A"/Vi.V.V " THE STORY OF PATSY I REMINISCENCE KATE DOUGLAS (SMITH ] SAN 1 K \NVISCO ('. A. MURDOCK& Co., 532 CLAY STREET 1883 .4 NAA5 TO H. V. C. IN GRATEFUL MEMORY OF (M.ADNKSS OIVKN TO SORROWFUL LITTLE LIVES. Copyright, 1882. UbrSy .ANCROFT WBBA*Y 6" ^ kq"73 The Story of Patsy. r had been a long, wearisome day at the charity Kindergarten, and the teacher was alone in the silent, deserted room. Gone were all the little heads, yellow and black, frizzled and smooth; the dancing, restless, curious eyes; the too mischievous, naughty, eager hands and noisy feet, that had made the great room human, but now left it quiet and empty. Eighty pairs of tiny boots had clattered down the stairs; eighty baby woes had been relieved; eighty little torn coats pulled on with loving hands; eighty sloppy little kisses fondly pressed on a willing cheek, and another day was over. I sank into my small rocking-chair, and, clasping my arms over my head, bent it upon the table, and closed my eyes. The sun shone gratefully in at the west win- dows (he was our most generous subscriber, and the children's warmest friend), touched the gold fish with rosy glory, and poured a flood of grateful heat over my shoulders. 4 THE STORY OF PATSY. The clatter of a tin pail outside the door, the uncer- tain turning of the knob by a hand too small to grasp it. "I forgitted my bucket. Good-bye, Miss Kate." (Another kiss.) "Good-bye, little man; run along/' Silence again, this time continued and profound. Mrs. Jinking was evidently not coming to-day to ask me if she should give blow for blow in her next connubial fracas. I was grateful to be spared until the morrow, when I should perhaps have greater strength to attack Mr. Jinkins, and help Mrs. Somers' dropsy, and find mourning for the Jones funeral, and clothes for the new Higgins twins. (Oh, Mrs. Higgins! would not one have sufficed you?) The events of the day march through my tired brain; so tired ! so tired ! and just a bit discouraged and sad too. " Had I been patient enough with the children ? Had I forgiven cheerfully enough the seventy times seven sins of omission and commission ? Had I poured out the love bountiful, disinterested, long-suffering of which God shows us the measure and fulness ? Had I " But the sun sunk lower and lower behind the dull brown hills, and sleep brought forge tfulness for a half hour, until I was awakened by a subdued and apolo- getic cough. Starting from my nap, I sat bolt upright in THE STOR Y OF PATSY. 5 astonishment; for quietly ensconced in a small red chair by my table, and sitting still as a mouse, was the weird- est apparition ever seen in human form. A boy, seem- ing how many years old shall I say? for in some ways he might have been a century old when he was born looking, in fact, as if he had never been young, and would never grow older. He had a shrunken, some- what deformed body, a curious, melancholy face, with a hedge of eyebrow, and such a head of hair that he might have been shocked for a door-mat. The sole redeemers of the countenance were two big, pathetic, soft, dark eyes so appealing that one could hardly meet their glance without feeling instinctively in one's pocket for a biscuit or a ten-cent piece. But such a face! He had apparently made an attempt at a toilet without the aid of a mirror, for there was a clean circle like a race-track round his nose, which member reared its crest, untouched and grimy, from the center like a sort of judge's-stand, while the dusky rim outside rep- resented the space for audience-seats. 1 gazed at this astonishing diagram of a countenance for a minute spellbound, thinking it resembled nothing so much as a geological map, marked with coal depos- its. And as for his clothes, his jacket was ragged and 6 THE STOR Y OF PA TS Y. arbitrarily clocked at the waist, while one of his trouser legs was slit up at the side, and flapped hither and thither like a lugsail in a calm. " Well, sir," said I at length, waking up to my duties as hostess, ' ' did you come to see me ? " "Yes, I did." " " Let me think; I don't seem to remember. Are you one of my little friends ? " " No, I haint yit, but I'm goin' to be! " "That's good, and we'll begin right now, shall we?'' "Iknowed yer for Miss Kate, the minute I seen yer ! " ' * How was that, eh ? " "The boys said as how you was a kind o' pretty lady, with towzly hair in front." (Shades of my cherished crimps ! ) "I'm very much obliged to the boys ! " " Kin yer take me in ? " " What! Here! Into the Kindergarten ? " "Yes, I bin waitin' this yer long whiles fur to git in." " Why my dear little boy," (gazing dubiously at his contradictory countenance,) " you're too big, aren't you ? We have only little chickens here, you know ; not six years old. You are more, aren't you ? " THE STOR Y OF PA TS K 7 '* Well, I'm nine by the book; but I aint no more'n scerce six along o' my losing them three year." "What do you mean, child ? How could you lose three years ! ' ' cried I, more and more puzzled by my curious visitor. ' ' I lost 'em on the back stairs, don't yer know ! My father he got fightin' mad when he was drunk, and pitched me down two flights of 'em, and my back was most clean broke in two, so I couldn't git out o' bed forever, till just now ! " ' ' Why, poor child, who took care of you V " "Mother she minded me when she warn't out washin' ! " " And did she send you here to-day ? " ' Well ! however could she, bein' as how she's dead? 1 s'posed you knew that. She died after I got well she only waited fur me to git up, anyhow !" (Oh, God! these poor mothers! they bite back the cry of their pain, and fight death with love, so long as they have a shred of strength for the battle!) " What's your name, dear boy V " "Patsy." "Patsy what?" " Patsy nothin! just only Patsy, that's all of it. The 8 THE STOR Y OF PA TS Y. boys calls me ' Humpty Dumpty," and* 'Rags,' but that's sassy!" "But all little boys have another name, Patsy! " " Oh, I got another if yer so dead set on it it's Dinnis but Jim says 'twont wash; 'taint no 'count, and I would tell yer nothin' but a sure pop name, and that's Patsy. Jim says, lots of other fellers out to the 'sylum has Dinnis fur names, and they 'aint worth shucks, iiuther. Dinnis, he must have had orful much boys, I guess ! " "Who is Jim?" " Him and I's brothers, kind of brothers, not sure 'nuff brothers; we lives together, and he minds me when I'm sick, and swipes the grub, yer know! " " And you haven't any father, poor little man ? " "Yer bet yer life I don't want no more father in mine. He knocked me down them stairs, and then he went off in a ship, and I don't go a cent on fathers! " (Here he withdrew with infinite trouble from his ragged pocket an orange, or at least the remains of one, which seemed to have been fiercely dealt with by circumstance.) "Here's an orange I brung yer! Its beenskwtiz but there's more in it ! " THE STORY O/<* /V/71VK p " Thank you, Patsy." (Forced expression of radiant gratitude.) "Now, let us see! You want to coine to the Kindergarten, do you, and learn to be a happy, little working boy? But, oh, Patsy! I'm like the old woman in the shoe, I have so many children I don't know what to do!" 4 'Yes, I know. Jim knows a boy what went here wunst. He said yer never licked the boys; and he said, when the nifty little girls coine to git in, with their white aprons, yer said there warn't no room; but when the dirty chaps with tored close come, yer said yer'd in '(/,<- room . Jim said as how yer'd never show me the door, sure!" (Bless Jim's heart!) "P'raps I can't come every day, yer know, 'coz I might have tits!" "Fits! Good gracious, child ! What makes you think that ? " " Oh, I has 'em !" (composedly.) "I kicks the foot- board clean off when I has 'em bad, all along o' my losing them three year! Why, yer got an orgind, hain't yer? Where's the handle fur to make it go? Couldn't I blow it for yer?" "It's a piano, not an organ; it doesn't need blow- ing." io THE STORY OS PATSY. " Oh, yes, I seen one in a saloon! I seen such an orful pretty lady play on one. She give her silk dress a Ntrish to one side, so / and then she cocked her head over like a road sparrer, and then her hands all jing- ling over with rings went a whizzing up and down them black and white teeth just like anything!" "You know, Patsy, I can't bear to have my little Kindergarten boys stand round the saloon doors; it isn't a good place, and if you want to be good men, you must learn to be good little boys first, don't you see ? " " Well, I wanted some kind of fun. I seen a cirkis wunst that was fun ! I seen it through a hole it takes four bits to git inside the tent, and me and an- other feller found a big hole and went halveys on it. First lie give a peek, and then I give a peek, and he was bigger'n me, and he took orful long peeks, he did, 'n when it come my turn the ladies had just allers jumped through the hoops, or the horses was gone out, 'n bime by he said, mebbe we might give the hole a stretch and make it a little mite bigger, it wouldn't do no harm; 'n I'd better cut it, 'coz his fingers w r as sore, 'n I just cutted it a little mite, 'n a Cop come up behind and h'isted us, and I never seen no more cirkis; but I / '///: .V r6>y? F OF PA TS Y. n went to Sunday School wunst, and it warn't so much fun as the cirkis ! " (I thought I would not begin moral lectures at once, Imt seize a more opportune time to compare the rela- tive claims of Sunday School and circus.) " Now, Patsy, I must be going home, but you shall conic to-morrow, at nine o'clock, surely, remember! and the children will be so glad to have another little friend. You'll dress yourself nice and clean, won't you ? " " Well, I should smile! but these is the best I got. I got another part to this hat, though, and another pocket berlongs with these britches." (He alternated tin- crown and rim of a hat, but never was extravagant enough to wear them together.) " 'Aint I clean? I cleaned myself by the feelin'! " " Here's a glass, dear; how do you think you suc- ceeded V " "Lordy, massy! I didn't git much of a sweep on that, did I now ? But don't you fret, I've got the lay of it now, and I'll just polish her off red-hot to-morrer, 'n don't you forget it ! " " Patsy, here's a cookie and a glass of milk; let's eat and drink together, because this is the beginning of 12 THE STORY OF PATSY. our friendship; but you mustn't talk street words to Miss Kate ; she doesn't like it ! " In five minutes I was taking my homeward walk, mind and heart full of my elfish visitor, with his strange and ancient thoughts, his sharp speeches and queer fancies. Would he ever come back, or would one of those terrible fits carry him off before I was permitted to help and ease his crooked little body, or pour a bit of mother-love into his starved little heart ? **#### *,### Morning came as mornings do come, bringing to the overworked body and mind a certain languor difficult to shake off. As I walk down the dirty little street, with its rows of old clothes shops, saloons and second- hand furniture stores, I call several of my laggards, and give them a friendly warning. " Quarter of nine, Mrs. Finnigan!" "Bless me soul, darlin'! Well, I will hurry up my childern, that I will; but the baby was that bad with the whoopin' cough last night that I never got three winks meself, darlin'!'' "All right; never mind the apron; let Jimmy walk on with me, and I will give him one at school. " Jimmy trots proudly at my side, munching a bit of baker's pie and carrying my basket. As we progress we gather THE STOR Y OF PA TS ) . /j into our train Levi, Jacob, David, Moses, Elias, and the other prophets who belong to our band. We hasten the steps of the infant Garibaldi, who is devouring refuse fruit from his mother's store, and stop finally to pluck a small Denis Kearney from the coal-hod where In- has been put for safe-keeping. The day has really begun, and with its first service the hands grow willing, and the heart filled with sunshine. As the boys at my side prattle together of the "per- ccssion" and the "sojers" they saw yesterday, I wish longingly that I could be transported with my tiny hosts to the sunny, quiet country on this clear, lovely morning. I think of my own joyous childhood, spent in dear companionship with shining fishes, silvery brooks, painted butterflies, singing birds, crickets, grasshop- pers, and the thousand and one playfellows of Nature which the good God has placed within reach of the happy country children. I think of the shining eyes of my little Lucys and Marys and Nellies could I turn them loose in a field of golden buttercups and daisies, witli sweet wild strawberries hidden at their roots; of the merry glee of my dear boisterous little prophets and patriots, if I could set them catching tadpoles in 14 THE STOR Y OF PA TS Y. a clear wayside pool, or hunting hens' nests in the alder bushes behind the barn and beside the river, or wading for cat-o'-nine-tails, with their ragged little trousers tucked above their knees ! And, oh ! hardest of all to bear, I think of our poor little invalids, so young to struggle with languor and pain ! Just to imagine the joy of my poor lame boys and my weary, pale and peevish children, so different from the bright-eyed, apple-cheeked darlings of well-to-do parents mere babies, who, from morning till night, seldom or never know what it is to cuddle down warmly into the natural rest of a mother's loving bosom ! Oh, ye happy, thoughtless mothers, languid and charming, receiving in graceful negligee admiring friends who come to congratulate and " see baby"- just think of these, and for God's sake help one little cold, wretched, sickly child into something better, as a thank-offering for your own rosy darling. ******** & We come to the little tin shop on the corner a blessed trysting place, forever sacred, where the chil- dren wait for me in sunshine, rain, wind and storm, unless forbidden; and here on the step sits faithful Patsy, with a clean and shining morning face, all glow- 7 ///: .V TOR Y OF PA TS Y. ij ing with anticipation. How well I remember my poor lad s first day! \Yhere should I seat him? There was an empty red chair beside little Tim Higgins, but Tim's character, obtained from a fond and candid parent, had been to the effect " that he was in Heaven anytime if he could just lay a boy out tiat!" And there was a place by Moses, but lie was very much of a fop just then, owing to a new "second-hand" coat, and might make scathing allusions to Patsy's abbreviated swallow- tail. But a pull at my skirt and a whisper from the boy decided ine. " Please can't I set side o' you, Miss Kate?" " But, Patsy, the fun of it is I never c/o sit." " Why, I thought teachers never done no thin' but set!" " You don't know much about little boys and girls, that's sure ! Well, suppose you put your chair in front, and close to me. Here is Maggie Bruce on one side. She is a real little Kindergarten mother, and will show you just how to do everything. t Won't you, Maggie?" From this time on Patsy was the first to come in the morning and the last to leave at night. He took the whole institution under his guardianship, and had a 16 THE STOR V OF PA TS Y. watchful eye for everybody and everything belonging to it. He soon learned the family history of every child in the school, and those family histories, I assure you, were of an exciting nature; but so great was Patsy's prudence and his idea of the proprieties that he never divulged his knowledge till we were alone. Then his tongue would be loosed, and he would break into his half child-like, half ancient and reflective conversation. He had a high temper, which he was just learning to control, and he was not always kind and gentle with his little playfellows; for he had been raised in a hard school, and the giving and taking of blows was a nat- ural matter, to him the only feasible manner of set- tling a misunderstanding. To me, however, his conduct was touching in its devotion and perfect obedience, and from the first hour he was ray preux chevalier, my poor little knight, .SY///.S penr et xatiH reprochc. Meanwhile, though not perfect, he was greatly changed for the better. We had given him a neat little coat and trousers, his hair was short and smooth, and his great dark eyes shone with unutterable content. He was never joyous; born under a cloud, he had lived THE STORY OT PA TSY. 17 in its shadow, and sorrow too early borne had left its indelible impress, only to be removed by the " undis- turbed vision of the Father's face, which is joy unut- terable ;" but for the first time in his life he was at peace. So, in those busy afternoons when the little flock had gone. Patsy and I stayed together and arranged the next day's occupations. It was he who fastened the ends and threaded the needles and set right the sewing cards of the babies: and only the initiated can compre- hend the labyrinthian maze into which an energetic three-year-old can transform a bit of sewing! It was he who fished the needles from the cracks in the floor, rubbed the blackboards, and scrubbed the slates, talk- ing busily the while. "Jee-rush-y! Miss Kate, we can't let Jimmy Buck have no more needles; he sows 'em thick as seed round his chair. Now, now jist look yere! Ef that Levy chap hain't scratched the hull top of his table with a buzzer! I'd lam him good ef I was you, I would!" "Do you think our Kindergarten would be the pleasant place it is if I whipped little boys every day?" * * No-o-o ! But there is a p'int 1 8 THE STOR Y OF PA TS Y. "Yes, there is, I know, Patsy, but I never found it!" "Jim's stayin' out nights this week," said he one day, " 'n I hez to stay along o' Miss Kennet till nine o'clock." " Why, I thought Jim always stayed at home in the evening." "Yes, he allers used ter, but he's busy now lookin' up a girl, don't yer know V " " Looking up a girl! What do you mean, Patsy?" Patsy scratched his head with the "ten-toothed comb of Nature," a habit which prevailed with terrible and suggestive frequency when I first came "into my kingdom" and answered : " Lookin' up a girl! Why, I s'posed yer knew that. I dunno zackly. Jim says all the fellers does. He says he hates to git the feed an' wash the dishes orfiy, 'n' girls like ter do it best of anything." " Oh! " cried I, light bursting in upon my darkened intellect when dish-washing was mentioned; " he wants to get married!" "Well, he has to look up a girl first, don't yer s'pose ? " 1 i Yes, of course ; but I don' t see how Jim can get 7 '///; .V 7 1 ) R Y OF PA TS K /p money enough to take care of a wife. He only has thirty dollars a month! " "Well, he's goin' ter git a girl what' 11 'go halveys, t don't yer know, and pay for her keep. He'd rather have a millingtary girl they're the nicest but if he can t, he's goiii' to try for one out of the box factory!' 7 "Oh, Patsy! I wish - " Why, didn't I ought ter say that ? " " I wish yon had a mother, dear! " " If I had, I'd know inore'n I do now! " and a great sigh heaved itself upward from beneath the ragged shirt and torn jacket. ' ' No, you wouldn't know so much, Patsy, or at least, you would get the right end first; never mind, dear boy. you can't understand!" Jim did not find his girl that summer, although he "looked" industriously. Either the "millingtaries" did not smile upon him and his slender bank account, or they were not willing to wash the dishes and halve the financial responsibilities besides; but as the reluctant summer, never warm and orthodox, slipped into au- tumn, and as the autumn days gave place to the dull, dark winter weather, Patsy's pale face grew paler, and his soft, dark eyes grew larger and more pathetic. It 20 THE STOR Y OF PA TS Y. seemed to me as if a sixth sense came to him in those days, so full was lie of wisdom and strange, old-fash- ioned thoughts and intuitions. His eyes never left iny face; when, in passing from one child to another, my glance fell upon him, his loving gaze seemed always waiting for mine. In the afternoons, as he pored over picture-books, or sat silently by the window watching the drops chase each other down the pane, his talk was often of heaven and the angels. His mind was evidently on that mys- tery which has puzzled souls since the beginning of time; for no anxious, weary, waiting heart has ever ceased to beat without its passionate desire to look into the beyond. "Nixy Jones' mother died yesterday, Miss Kate; they had an orful nice funeral! " "Yes, I'm sorry for the poor little children; they will miss their mamma." "Not 'miff to hurt 'em! Them Joneses never cared nuthin' for nobody; they was playing on tin oyster cans the hull blessed ev'nin', till Jim went 'n stop't 'em, *n told 'em it warn't perlite. Say! how dretful it must be to go down into the cold, dark ground and be shut up in a tight box, 'n want to git out git out 'n keep THE STORY OF PATSY. 21 hollerin' "n a hollerin', and nobody come to fetch yer, cause yer's dead ! " "Oh, Patsy, child, stop such fearful thoughts ! I expect people are glad and willing to stay when they arc dead the part of them that wonders and thinks and feels and loves and is happy or sad you know \vhat I mean, don't you ? " *J*CIOFT UBRAHY "Yes!" he said slowly, leaning his head on his hand. " Well, that part God takes care of it is His own, and He makes it all right. And, as for our bodies, Patsy, even the kittens and the puppies have those, and they don't worry about them. You talk about the cold, dark earth. Why, I think of it as the Render, warm earth, that holds the little brown acorn, until it begins to grow into a spreading oak tree, and nurses the little seeds till they grow into lovely blossoming flowers. Now we must trot home, Patsy. Wrap this shawl over your shoulders, and come under my um- brella." ^. f . "Oh, I don't need any shawl, please. I'm so orful hot!" " That's just the reason," I replied, as I looked with anxious eyes at his flushed cheeks. 22 THE STOR Y OF PA TS Y. I left him at the little door on T street, and per. suaded kind-hearted Mrs. Kemiet to give him some hot soup at dinner time. The next morning I was startled from a profound sleep by a tremendous peal of the door bell. Though only half awakened, my forebodings seemed realized, and the bell rang "Patsy" in my ears. I hastily slipped on my dress and going to the door saw just whom I expected, Jim. " What is the matter with Patsy ?" ' ' He's turrible bad, Miss ; he got took with one o' them fits the worst kind in the night and like ter died. Yer could a heard him screech a block off!" " Oh, my poor boy! Have you had a doctor ? What did he say V" " He says most likely its measles or mumps they're all over town!" " Oh, for shame!" I cried; "don't let him come into the house again, I will bring another. Who is with Patsy now ? Are you going back ? " "No, Miss; I got ter go 'n git leave from boss 'fore I kin drop work. The boys found Mr. Kennet and he's mindin' Patsy." (Mrs. Kennet only produced her husband on extraordinary occasions; at other times THE STORY OF PATSY. 23 he retired, like the moon on dark nights.) "He cries for you; he says he don't want nothin' but jist Miss Kate, and he's that crazy he wants to git up 'n come to the Kindergarten!" "Dear little lad!" I said, trying to keep back the tears. " Here, Jim, take the school keys to Miss Mar- garet and ask her to take my place to-day. I'll start in ten minutes for Patsy." "Thank yer, Miss. Say! you think he'll git over tli is, don't yer, Miss, like as he did them other ones afore ? I know he's nothin' but a crooked little chap, but he aint no trouble 'n his keep don't cost much, and he's getting smart 'n able to work now; I'm so used to him I don't like to let him go." kk AVell, we'll hope for the best, and perhaps we can pull him through," I said, in homely phrase. "Pull him through!" Had years passed over his head since I saw him last ? He seemed to have grown old with the night's pain, but the eyes shone out with new lustre and brilliancy, making ready, I thought, to receive the heavenly visions. I knelt dow 7 n by the bed- side and took his cold hand in mine. I could not pray (iod to spare him, it was so clear that He had better take him t<> Himself. 24 THE STORY Of PATSY. "I knowed you'd come, Miss Kate," he said faintly; "I knowed you'd hurry up; you's allers hurryin' up for us boys!" (Oh, how beautiful, how awesonte it is to be the messenger of peace to an unhappy soul ! So great a joy is it to bear, that it is not given to many twice in a lifetime.) The rain beat upon the frail roof, the wind blew about the little house and a darkness of fast-gathering black clouds fell into the room in place of the morning sunbeams. It was a gloomy day for a journey, but if one were traveling from shadow into sunshine, I thought, it would not matter much ! "Mrs. Kennet says I must liev a priest, but I don't want no priest but you," came the faint voice from the bed. " What does priests do, when folks is sick, Miss Kate?" "They pray, Patsy." "What fur?" I paused, for in my grief I could think of no simple way of telling that ignorant little child what they did pray for. "They pray," I said at length, "because they want to talk to God about the little boy who is coming to Him, to tell Him how glad they are that he is to be THE STOR Y OF PA TS Y. 25 happy at last, but that they shall miss him very, very much." " The priest lives clear out Market, '11 he wouldn't git 'ere 'fore God knew the hull thing 'thout his tellin' of it. You pray, Miss Kate." "Oh, thou dear, loving Father in Heaven, Patsy's Father and mine, who givest all the little children into their mother's arms, if one of them is lost and wander- ing about the world forlorn and alone, surely Thou wilt take him to a better home. We send little Patsy -to Thee and pray that his heart may be filled with joy and thankfulness when he comes to live in Thy house." "Tell'im 'bout them three years what I lost, so't he'll make lowance jest as you did." " Oh, God, who saw fit to lay heavy burden on Pat- sy's little shoulders and take away his three years, make them up to him in his heavenly life." "Yer never said amen! 'Taint no good 'thout yer say amen!" " Amen!" Silence for many minutes. The brain is alive with thoughts, but the poor, tired body is weakened already with the labor of telling them. When he speaks again it is more slowly, and with greater difficulty. 26 THE STORY Of PATSY. " I guess Heaven is kind o'like our Kinder- gartent don't you? 'n so I ain't goin' to feel strange! There's beautiful places and flowers bloomin' and streams rumiin', like those in the stories you tell us, and lots of singing like we have ; and the peoples are good to each other, like our children, 'ceptin' Jim- my Battles 'n they'll do each other's work, 'n wait on the angels, 'n run errants for God, I s'pose! and everbody'll wear clean white aprons like in the picture-books; but I shan't like it much 'tliout you git there pretty quick, Miss Kate ; - - but I ain't goin' to cry!" " Oh, Patsy, my boy, it is for those who are left be- hind, to cry. It must be better to go!" "Well, I'm willin'! I've got enough o' this, I tell yer, with back-aches 'n fits, 'n boys callin' sassy names - 'n no gravy ever on my pertater; -- but I hate ter go 'way from the Kindergartent only p'raps Heaven is just like, only bigger, 'n more children, - - 'n no Jimmy Battleses ! Sing the hymn, will yer, please, -- Miss Kate ? " And in a voice choked with tears, as Jim came in the door, and lifted Patsy in his arms, I sang the hymn that he had sung, with folded hands and reverent mien, every morning of his life in the Kindergarten. THE STOR Y OF PA TS Y. 27 " Father we thank Thee for the night, And for the pleasant morning light; For rest and gladness, love and care, And all that makes the day so fair ! Help us to do the things we should: To be to others kind and good; In all we do, in work or play, To grow more loving every day ! ' ' The last lingering, trembling note falls upon the death-like stillness of the room, as with one sharp, brief struggle, one look of ineffable love and peace, the tired lids droop heavily over the eyes, never to be lifted again. Light has gleamed upon the darkened pathway, but the silent room, the dying fire, the failing light and the falling rain are all in fellowship with Death. My blessed boy! God has given him back his three lost years ! "Oil! it is hard to take to heart the lesson that such deaths will teach, but let no man reject it, for it is one that all must learn. When Death strikes clown the in- nocent and young, from every fragile form from which he lets the panting spirit free, a hundred virtues rise, in shapes of mercy, charity and love, to walk the world and bless it. Of every tear that sorrowing mortals shed 011 such green graves, some good is born, some grntler nature comes!" I r! '