Evening capital. (Annapolis, Md.) 1884-1910, 1890-09-19
A LONELY HEART.

A little old woman, wrinkled and
bent, and dressed in rusty black, with a
strip of limp Grape dangling from her
shabby bonnet, came into the office of
great daily paper.
aYou're the editor, be your" she asked
of the man who looked up from his desk
as she entered
aYes IN, he replied briefly, but not
unkindly. @What can do for you?"
well. live brung a little piece
I'd like to have printed in the paper. |
writ it myself, and / don't know as you
can make it all out, it's so long since
handled pen, but I'd like nightly to
have it printed. It's about my little
grandson that-died.
Her voice died away to whisper at
the last word and she wiped her dim eyes
on a corner of her shawl before she
added:
"He took scarlet fever and didn't live
but four days, and he'd never been sick
q day before in his life, and he was the
very picture of health Here's photo
graft I've got of him that wouldn't
take the world for now"
She laid on the editors desk card
photograph of sunny faced smiling
boy of about five years
"That was taken a year ago, and it
looks just as he always did, and he died
with that same smile on his face-dear,
dear little souli / know he's better off,
still, it's been awful hard to give him up.
His pa and ma are most crazy. That's
why writ the piece; thought it might
mebbe be some comfort to 'em. +"
She laid several pages of cheap note
paper covered with cramped and angu-
lar writing in blue ink on the desk.
"Its some po'try made up bout him, "
she said. at amt very good, / know;
some of the lines don't rhyme very good
and lots of the words amt spelled right,
but reckoned you could fix that up all
right. I'd agree to take three extry cop
les of the paper if t was published. T"
II am very sorry, said the editor, as
he looked at page after page of the
verses, but we don't publish anything
more than the mere announcement of
death.
"Oh, don't you? didn't know. I've
seen po'try pieces about the dead in pa
pers sometimes, though don't know as
ever have in this one. I'd be willing
to pay to have it printed, but amt got
a cent in the world. / walked all the
way here / don't mind so much my
self, but know it ID please his pa to see
the piece in print; he was SO wrapped up
in Johnnie. But, then, all of us was, for
that matter-the dear, dear little fell
lowl"
She drew limp cotton handkerchief
from her pocket and wiped her eyes as
she said:
aI'll take the piece and see if / can git
it printed some place else-to please his
pa. YOU know. He was the only child,
and, unless you've laid away your own
flesh an blood. you've no idea how tur-
rible it is to have little life like that go
out jist when its gittin' more precious
and interestin' ev'ry day. It's ben mighty
hard fer me, his old grandma, even when
I know it won't be but a little while till
I'll be with him ag'in.
swell, I'll have to go now. I'm sorry
bout the piece, but amt blamin' you
none. OF course you have to go by the
rules of the paper. No, thank ye, you
needn't help me down stairs. kin git
down alone. But its kind in you to
offer to help me. Yes, yes, / know you'd
put the piece in the paper if you could.
i amt blamin' you none. It was silly
in me, know, but never stopped to
think but what ev'ry body'd be as in
terested in our dear little Johnny as we
was Good bye, sirl
And she went slowly out, weak pa
thetic little figure, her eyes blinded with
tears and her heart aching with loneli-
ness, longing for smiles and kisses and
loving words of the little boy that died.
III. I. Ell.