'Sofunny things I cannot explain myself, so I send to you, and you replysooner than without it, forairjordans 22 you have so kind interest in my work you do not stay to wait. So thisis a little hook for you to make you write some words to your son wholikes it so much and is fond of you.
'Myairjordans retro 4 doctor tells me my lungs are soon to be re-established; so you mayimagine yourself how glad I am, and of more courage in my future. Youmay one day see your Varjo in Amerique, if I study commerce as Iwish. So then the last time of seeing ourselves is not the last. Isthat to please you? I suppose the grand histoire is finished, n'estce pas? You jordan4 sneakerswill then send it to me care of M. Gryhomski Austriche, and he willgive to me in clandestine way at Varsovie, otherwise it will beconfiscated at the frontier by the stupide Russians.
'Nowwe are dispersed in two sides of world far apart, for soon I go hometo Pologne and am no more "juif errant." It is now time Iwork at my life injordan3 sneakers some useful way, and I do it.
'AsI am your grand fils, it is proper that I make you my compliment ofhappy Christmas and New Year, is it not? I wish for you so many asthey may fulfil long human life. May this year bring you more andmore good hearts to love you (the only real happiness in thehardjordan13 sneakers life), and may I be as now, yours for always,
'VARJO.'
Ayear ago he sent me his photograph and a few lines. I acknowledgedthe receipt of it, but since then not a word has come, and I begin tofear that my boy is dead. Others have appeared to take his place, butthey don't suit, and I keep his corner always ready for him if helives. If he is airjordans kicks dead,I am glad to have known so sweet and brave a character, for it doesone good to see even as short-lived and obscure a hero as my Polishboy, whose dead December rose embalms for me the memory of Varjo, thelast and dearest of my boys.
Itis hardly necessary to add, for the satisfaction of inquisitivejordanwholesaler littlewomen, that Laddie was the original of Laurie, as far as a palepen-and-ink sketch could embody a living, loving boy.
LittleTessa sat alone by the fire, waiting for her father to come home fromwork. The children were fast asleep, all four in the big bed behindthe curtain; the wind blew hard outside, and theairjordans dunks snow beat on the window-panes; the room was large, and the fire sosmall and feeble that it didn't half warm the little bare toespeeping out of the old shoes on the hearth.
Tessa'sfather was an Italian plaster-worker, very poor, but kind and honest.The motheruggsale had died not long ago, and left twelve-year old Tessa to take care ofthe little children. She tried to be very wise and motherly, andworked for them like any little woman; but it was so hard to keep thesmall bodies warm and fed, and the small souls good and happy, thatpoor Tessa was often at her wits' end. She always waited for herfather, noairjordans af1matter how tired she was, so that he might find his supper warm, abit of fire, and a loving little face to welcome him.
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