The Pacific commercial advertiser. [volume] (Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands) 1885-1921, 1891-09-01
"A WAIF."
The Nugget that was Left tor the
Editor to Read.

Editor to Read.
The managing editor was tired. he hah !
been I'D all nieht putting out his eyes
trying to 0eciplier in,ieciperahle wr''ihS'
toning down that hair raising story young
Bilks had Just brought IL, aud shyihs
empty ink bottles at the couceitlha oiI
the back fence, There was nred rap on
the door and man entered the room
4" Tramp was written in his clothes, out
his hands were clean and his nails sug-
gestive OF attention.
. Can you give me Joo ne asAou'
What can you do
ooh, anything-set type, do rspofto-
rial work or anything you say
"No, [ guess not. The office is iuli'
got more than we want. Good morn
ing"
But the man fingered. say, part
ner," he began, ave just struck IL
from the Rockies and am clear down IN
my luck. Can't you give me job Ia
do anything-makef fires, sweep the once
-anything!" But the tired editor did
not look up
Much obliged, but we do not need
your services" he said, briefly. ana
scratch, scratch, went the busy pen.
Well, if you won't help me, reckon
I'll have to look for fence corner, the
tramp said, somewhat disconsolately,
and then, putting his hand in bis poket,
he drew out folded paper, which he
threw recklessly upon the table.
There's something that happened to
me one night out in the Rockies" he
said, shortly. "It kept singing itself
| through my head, so / thought L might
as we'll write it out.'
He shuft1ed out as he said the last
word, and the busy pen moved tireiessly
over sheet after sheet, describing now
all newspapers should lend themselves
| to the encouragement of home talent.
At last the article was done and with
quick sweep the editor was gathering
| up his loose sheets, when the paper that
| the tramp had left met his eye. Open
ing it carelessly, he soon became inter
| ested, and when he had road the last
| line he called the office "devil' and two
| reporters and giving them a description
| of the tramp sent them in search OF him.
But he had vanished as suddenly as he
had come, and so these beautiful lines
| are to go unsponsored Their tender
beauty points many a mind back to
childish days, when each night, lips
now unused to prayer, repeated at a
mothers knee the dear old lines-''Now
l lay me down to sleep"
Near the camp-fire's Pickering light
In my blanket bed lie,
Gazing through the shades of night
At the twinkling stars on high;
O'er me spirits in the air,
Silent vigils seem to keep,
AS breathe my childhood's prayer,
Now lay me down to Sleep"
Sadly sings the whip-poor-w
In the bows of yonder tree;
Laughingly the mountain rill
Swells the midnight melody,
Foemen may be lurking near.
In the canon dark and deep;
Lo, breathe on Jesus ear,
81 pray the Lord my soul to keep"
Mid the Stars one face l see
One the Saviour called away
Mother, who in infancy,
Taught my baby lips to pray;
Her sweet spirit hovers near
In this lonely mountain break;
Take me to her Saviour dear,
If [ should die before | wake.'
Fainter grows the Pickering light
AS each ember slowly dies;
Plaintively the birds of night
Fill the air with saddened cries;
Over me they seem to cry
You may never more awake!
Lo! | lisp If should die,
- pray the Lord my soul to take"
/ Birmingham Herald.