The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1881-02-17
Iamie,s Hood.Nighf.

At q late hourthe other night q poor old
man, weak with hunger and stiff with
cold, entered the Central Station to ask
for lodgings. While he sat by the stove
to get warm they heard him groan like
one in distress, and the captain asked:
'Are you sick, or have You been
hurt?"
SIT is here" answered the old man as
he touched his breast. sit all came back
to me an hour ago as I passed a window
and saw a bit of a boy in his night-gown.
I would to God that I was deadl"
'fWhat is it?" asked the captain as he
sat down beside the man.
SIT is the heart-ache-it is remorse,"
the old man answered. ST haye had
them gnawing away at my life for years.
I have wanted to die-I have prayed for
death-but life still clings to this poor
old frame. I am old and friendless and
worn out, and were some wheels to crush
me it would be an act of mercy"
He wiped his eyes on his ragged
sleeve, made a great effort to control his
feelings, and went on:
"Forty years ago I had plenty. A
wife sang in my home, and a young boy
rode on my knee and filed the house
with his shouts and laughter. I sought
to be a good man and a kind father, and
people called me such. One night I
came home vexed, I found my boy
ailing and hat vexed me still more. l
don't know what allied me to act so that
night, but it seemed as if everything
went wrong. The child had a bed be-
side us, and every night since he had
been able to speak, he had called to me
before closing his eyes in sleep, good
night, my PAL Oh, sir, and I hear those
words sounding in my ears every day and
every hour, and they wiring my old heart
until I am faint"
For a moment he sobbed like q child,
| then he found voice to continue:
"God forgive me, but I was cross to
the boy that night. When he called to
me good night, l would not reply Good
night, my pal he kept calling, and fiend
that I was, I would make no answer. He
must have thought me asleep, for he
finally cuddled down with a sob in his
throat. I wanted to get up and kiss him
but 1 kept waiting, and waiting, and
finally fell asleep.
"Well ?" queried the captain, as the
silence grew long.
'eWhen 1 awoke it was day. It was q
shrek in my ears which broke my slum-
bers, and as I started up my poor wife
called: ooh! Richardi Richardl oul
Jamie is dead in his bedr' 1t was SO
He was dead and cold. There were tear
on his pale face-the tears he had shec
when he had called: Good night, my
par and I had refused to answer! I wal
dumb. Then remorse came and I wal
frantic. I did not know when they
buried him, for I was under restraint al
o lunatic. For five long years life was
dark midnight to me. When reason re
turned and I went forth into the worll
my wife slept beside Jamie, my hom'
was gone, my friends had forgotten m,
and I had no mission in life but to SUITE
remorse. I cannot forget. 1t was al
most a life time ago, but through tn
mist of years, across the valley of tn
past, from the little grave thousands O
miles away, Ihear the p~laintive call as
heard it that night: Good night, m.
PAL Send me to prison, to the poor
house, anywhere that I may halt lon
enough to diel I am an old wreck, an,
I care not how soon death drags m
down."
He was rendered food, but he coul
not eat. He rocked his body to and fr
and wept and sobbed, and by and BY
when sleep came to him, they heard hir
whisper:
"Good night, my boy, good night, m
JamieI"-Detroit Free Press.