"Quad's odds"; . ! oh ! my Tom ! sobbed the lather. I wTanted you to hold me! whispered Tom— I wrantedyou to kiss me ! • Leave my boy—leave me one thing to love! prayedthe mother. 26 AND WE REJOICE. I cannot let him go—he must not die! sobbed thefather. 11 Kiss Little Tom! whispered the child—hold metight—I cannot see father! We grieved with them. The heart knows no grief likethat grief which swells it when death stills a little voiceand folds little white hands over a heart which never hadan evil thought. We grieved then, but as the days wentby and the weeks made months, we rejoiced. Our frie
"Quad's odds"; . ! oh ! my Tom ! sobbed the lather. I wTanted you to hold me! whispered Tom— I wrantedyou to kiss me ! • Leave my boy—leave me one thing to love! prayedthe mother. 26 AND WE REJOICE. I cannot let him go—he must not die! sobbed thefather. 11 Kiss Little Tom! whispered the child—hold metight—I cannot see father! We grieved with them. The heart knows no grief likethat grief which swells it when death stills a little voiceand folds little white hands over a heart which never hadan evil thought. We grieved then, but as the days wentby and the weeks made months, we rejoiced. Our friendgrew strong and noble and manly again. The cup of bit-ter degradation was dashed to earth, and he was strong asa lion to do right and resist temptation. So he stands to-day, and though we know that grief hasdimned his sunshine, and that his heart will pain and swellas he remembers the little grave whose mantle of grass isnourished by a mothers tears, we thank God that LittleTom is with the THE BOOK AGENT.
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Keywords: ., bookauthorquadm184, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1875
