“My little boy who died,” said Mrs. Beshaley, “was a stiff little chap, he’d talk like a man and would stop older children teasing birds or any animals, saying, ‘mustn’t do it, mustn’t do it.’ Dear little fellow, he was too good, so—he had to leave us.”
Silently, our sympathies went out to the bereaved mother, who, as though oblivious of our presence, continued—soliloquizing—
“Mande’s chavo’s lelled oprey,
He’s jalled to the praio tem,
Yeck divvus I shall dick leste,
Though the poov he’ll dick kek komi.”
My child is taken above,
He’s gone to the children’s home,
One day I will see my love,
Though the earth no more he’ll roam.