. Platform echoes: or, Living truths for head and heart . en and the property. Passing along, FIRE! FIRE! 483 she heard the cry of « Fire, fire ! and the bells rang out astirring peal. She paid no attention till she heard some oneask: Where is the tire ? The reply was, In FranklinSquare. The Morton Plouse was there, and her childrenwere in that house. To her there was only one side of thatsquare, a n donly one houseon that side. Afire-engine rat-tled throughthe streets. Shefollowed it; thepeople madeway for it andclosed up thegap again likewaves of thesea, and shewas shut cry was,My ch
. Platform echoes: or, Living truths for head and heart . en and the property. Passing along, FIRE! FIRE! 483 she heard the cry of « Fire, fire ! and the bells rang out astirring peal. She paid no attention till she heard some oneask: Where is the tire ? The reply was, In FranklinSquare. The Morton Plouse was there, and her childrenwere in that house. To her there was only one side of thatsquare, a n donly one houseon that side. Afire-engine rat-tled throughthe streets. Shefollowed it; thepeople madeway for it andclosed up thegap again likewaves of thesea, and shewas shut cry was,My children !Let me pass! Stand back,stand back!said the crowd. I cannot, let me pass ! A policeman came up and asked,What do you want? My children, she said, are inthe Morton House. Every individual, said he, in thathouse is saved, but all the property is lost. Now, take myhand. Make way there. And lie dragged the woman throughthe crowd and brought her in front of the burning- buildingThere, on a heap of broken furniture, were her two children,. • Til EI IK S MOTIIKi:. 484 BREAKING A MOTHERS HEART. with their hands folded, and one of them called out, Theresmother. Thai mother was a happy woman ; she had lostevery bit of property she possessed on the fare of the earth,but her bonny bairns were saved. Now, there is not a mother who would not rather see herchild burned to death, and have its pure spirit take its flightinto the bosom of Him who said, Suffer little children tocome unto me, and forbid them not, than see it grow up inpride and manliness and become a drunkard. She had rathertake the little bits of charred hones raked out from tinashesof the tire, and bury them with hope, than follow her poor,drunkard son to the grave with no hope in his death. Ah, 1tell you, I have found the most comfortless creature on earththe mother who has buried a drunken son. A young nam from the country, the son of a minister ofthe gospel, went to Chicago to better his condition and m
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjecttempera, bookyear1890
