Oh dear I'm so tired and lonesome I wonder why moma don't come. She told me to shut up my blue eyes and fore I'd wake she'd be home. she said she was going to see Grandma, she lives by the river so bright. I'm afraid my moma's fell in there, and perhaps won't come home tonight.
I guess I's afraid to stay up here without any fire or light. But God's lighted his lamps up in heaven I see them all twinkling and bright. I guess I'll go down and meet papa, I suppose he's stopped at the store. It's a great big pretty store full of bottles and I wished he wouldn't go there any more, for sometimes he's sick when he comes home and stumbles and falls on the stairs and once when he came in the paller, he kicked at my poor little chair.
Moma stood all pale and frightened and hugged me up close to her breast, and called me her own little Blossom and I guess I's forgotten the rest. But I remember that papa was angry, his face so red and so wild, and I remember he striked at poor moma and hurted his poor little child insead.
But I love him and guess I'll go find him, perhaps he'll come home with me soon. Then it won't be dard and lonely waiting for moma to come. Out into the night went the baby, her little heart beating with fright. Till her tired feet reached the Gin Palace all glittering with music and lights.
Her little hand pushed the door open, tho her touch was a soft as a breath. Her little feet entered the Gin Palace that leades but to ruin and death. OH! Papa, she cried as she saw him, and her voice rippled out sweet and clear, I fought if I'd tomed I'd find you. Now I'ss so glad that I is here, the lights are so pretty dear papa and I fink the music's most sweet. But I guess its most supper time papa, for little Blossom wants something to eat.
A moment his blured eyes gazed wildly down into her face sweet and fair, then as a devil possesed him he grasped the back of a chair. A moment a second it was over. The work of a fiend was complete and poor little innocent Blossom lay quivering and crushed at his feet.
With a groan the Devil might pitty, he knelt at her quivering form. he pressed her pale face to his bussom, he lifted her fair golden head. A moment her baby lips trembled, then poor little Blossom was dead. Then in came the law so majestic and said with his life he must pay. That only a fiend or a mad man could murder a child in that way.
But the man who had sold him the poision, who had made him the demon of hell, why he must be loved and respeced, for he had a license to sell. He may rob you of friends and money. Send you to projection and woe as long as he pays for his license, the law must protect him you know. May god pity the women and children who are under this judment run and hassen the day when against it, neigh heart or sould may be dumb.
unknown
