Christie's old organ

Old Treffy did not regain his strength. He continued weak and feeble. He was not actually ill, and could sit up day after day by the tiny fire which Christie lighted for him in...

It was a hot summer's afternoon, some years after, and the air in Ivy Court was as close and stifling as it had been in the days when Christie and old Treffy lived there. Crowds...

The next morning Christie woke with a happy heart, for he remembered his last night's prayer, and in his simple faith he had taken the Lord at His word, and had believed that th...

That week was a very long and sorrowful one to Treffy and to Christie. The old man seldom spoke, except to murmur the sad words of the hymn, or to say to Christie in a despairin...

How different everything seemed to Treffy after his doubts and fears had been removed! The very attic seemed full of sunshine, and old Treffy's heart was full of brightness. He...

It had been a close, sultry day, and it was a still more oppressive night. It was long before Christie could get to sleep, and when at last he had sunk into a troubled slumber,...

"Christie, boy," said Treffy, that night, when Christie had told him all he could remember of the sermon, and had repeated to him the third verse of the hymn, "Christie, boy, th...

The dismal lodging-house had a charm for little Christie now. Night after night he returned there, that he might hear his mother's tune. The landlady began to look upon him as o...

Little Christie was the only mourner who followed old Treffy to the grave. It was a poor parish funeral. Treffy's body was put into a parish coffin, and carried to the grave in...

The next morning, some of the lodgers in the great room below remembered having heard sounds in the stillness of the night, which had awakened them from their dreams and disturb...

"What's the matter with that little lad?" said one of the men to the landlady, as she was preparing their breakfast the next morning. "He's got a fever, or something of the sort...

The next day Christie had to go out as usual. Old Treffy seemed no worse than before,--he was able to sit up, and Christie opened the small window before he went out to let a br...

"Home, sweet home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home," played the unmusical notes of a barrel-organ in the top room of a lodging-house in a dreary back stre...

It was Sunday evening, and Christie was once more in the little mission-room; but not now as a poor ragged boy, sitting on the front bench, and in danger of being turned out by...