Judge
Boompointer shook his head sternly. Mary Jones sighed and breathed
a silent prayer. Her husband chewed!
CHAPTER III. AND LAST.
"What! more bread?" said John Jenkins, gruffly. "You're always
asking for money for bread. D--nation! Do you want to ruin me by
your extravagance?" and as he uttered these words he drew from his
pocket a bottle of whiskey, a pipe, and a paper of tobacco.
Emptying the first at a draught, he threw the empty bottle at the
head of his eldest boy, a youth of twelve summers. The missile
struck the child full in the temple, and stretched him a lifeless
corpse. Mrs. Jenkins, whom the reader will hardly recognize as the
once gay and beautiful Mary Jones, raised the dead body of her son
in her arms, and carefully placing the unfortunate youth beside the
pump in the back yard, returned with saddened step to the house.
At another time, and in brighter days, she might have wept at the
occurrence. She was past tears now.
"Father, your conduct is reprehensible!" said little Harrison
Jenkins, the youngest boy. "Where do you expect to go when you
die?"
"Ah!" said John Jenkins, fiercely; "this comes of giving children a
liberal education; this is the result of Sabbath schools.
Pages:
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139