It was so long that Gadsby was in a quandary as to how such small lungs could hold it.
Now in watching this tot thrilling at its first visit to such a world of floral glory, Gadsby got what boys call “a hunch;” and said:—
“You don’t find blossoms in your yard this month, do you?”
If you know childhood you know that thrills don’t last long without a call for information. And Gadsby got such a call, with:—
“No, sir. Is this God’s parlor?”
Now Gadsby wouldn’t, for anything, spoil a childish thought; so said, kindly:—
“It’s part of it. God’s parlor is awfully big, you know.”
“My parlor is awfully small; and not any bloss Oh! Wouldn’t God?”
Gadsby’s hunch was now working, full tilt; and so, as this loving family man, having had four kids of his own, and this tot from a poor family with its “awfully small” parlor,—had trod this big glass building’s paths again and again; round and round, an almost monstrous sigh from an almost bursting tiny bosom, said:—
“I’ll think of God’s parlor, always and always and always!!” and Gadsby, on glancing upwards, saw a distinct drooping and curving of many
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