From Wealth to Poverty; Or, the Tricks of the Traffic. A Story of the Drink CursePotter, Austin
General
From Wealth to Poverty; Or, the Tricks of the Traffic. A Story of the Drink Curse
Potter, Austin
Temperance -- Fiction
Little Mary, or as they called her Mamie, was born, as we have
already noticed, a short time after they came to Rochester. She
was a beautiful child, and in some respects seemed to resemble
each of her parents; for she had the complexion and large, dreamy
eyes of her mother and the features of her father. And in
disposition and mental characteristics she also inherited
qualities from both father and mother; for she possessed the
sprightly animation of the former which ever and anon bubbled over
in gentle, kindly mischief. While she, also, possessed the
guileless trustfulness of the latter, and seemed never so happy as
when she nestled peacefully in the arms of one she loved, and
listened to a simple story of the good in other days, or was
charmed by some beautiful song or hymn, which it was her delight
to help sing.
As one looked at her fair young face--her sunny curls and regular
classic features--either sparkling with animation or melting with
tenderness, they wondered not that she was the pet of home, and
generally beloved, for with such beauty and such gentle witcheries
she could not fail to win hearts.
"Mamma," she said, after her mother had kissed her, "Why has papa
don away? I 'ove my papa ever so much, and I asked him, before he
went away, if he 'oved oo and Eddie and Allie, and he taid he did,
and that he 'oved me, his 'ittle sunbeam, too, and ett he has don
and left us all. I am so sorry papa has don."
As Mamie said this the tears began to glisten in her eyes, and
then sparkling for a moment, in their blue settings, ran in pearly
drops down over her cheeks. Her mother snatched her closely to her
to quiet her sobbings; but, in a moment or two, was weeping in
sympathy with her child.
"My darling," she said, "papa has gone away to find another home
for us all, and after awhile he will come back for us, then my
little Mamie will be her papa's sunbeam again."
"But, mamma, I don't want to go, I dust want to 'top where we are
now, for Eddie was saying, yesterday, that papa was in Tanada, and
that he was coming over after us. And he taid, mamma that Tanada
was so cold we would not have any petty flowers there, and I don't
want to leave all my petty flowers. I dust want to stay here in
our nice home."
"Eddie should not talk so to his little sister," said her mother,
"and I do not think we will find Canada much colder than this
country. God will take care of us there, Mamie, if we are good and
pray to Him, and He will also take care of papa if we ask Him to
do so."
"Will He, mamma?" said Mamie, "den I will ask Him."
She knelt down, and clasping her tiny hands looked heavenward with
sweet trustfulness as she murmured: "Dod bless my papa, and take
care of him." And then she added--the thought seeming to come
intuitively to her mind. "O, Dod, don't let my papa drink, taus
den he is tross to my dear mamma and to Eddie and Allie; and he
don't 'ove mamma den. Dust let him come home nice.--Amen."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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