Hot Springs weekly star. (Hot Springs, S.D.) 1892-1917, 1892-02-26
HIS LITTLE JOHN.

HIS LITTLE JOHN.
The Editor Wasn't Too Husy to Write .
Little Notice.
1t was almost midnight when he
came slowly up the three flights of
stairs leading to the. editorial rooms
and knocked timidly at the door.
"CoMle in," called out the CITY ed.
ltor, without looking up from his
writing.
He came in slowly, a tall, middle
aged man, too tllinly clad for such a
cold and stormy night. His wrists
and hard bony hands showed red and
bare beneath the sleeves of his thin
and ragged old coat. He had an hon
est but ignorantfaceand IN awkward.
embarrassed air. He pulled off his
old hat and held it in both hands.
while he asked:
us it too late to get Il little notice
put into the paper Tonight, mister"
NO; guess not" replied the report
er. Got it written?'
He pointed to Il table near his OWN
desk, and the man sat down before it.
He took the pencil between his stiff
ened fingers, bit at the end of it
While in meditation, drew the pad of
paper toward him, and began to
write.
But he made slow and seemingly
painful work of ii. He crossed out IL
word here and there and his hand
trembled strangely. Once he fur
lively drew his ragged sleeve across
his eyes. Then he turned to the editor
and said, in tone of troubled hesi-
tation and appeal:
"l-l-don't want to trouble YOU
none. sir. but I--I-ain't used to
writin', am l never could spell good.
III Nou-you-had time Toto
write the notice for me I'd try to pay
you what you think it'd lie with"
Something in the mans tone and
manner touched the editors heart.
and, busy as he was, he said:
I'll write il for you if there isn't
too much of it,"
"Only three or four lines. sir"
"Oh, a n%oticeof Il meeting, perhaps,
or something of that sort:?"
"No, sir; a notice of a-a-" the
mans voice died away to a whisper.
his chin dropped to his swelling chest,
MS Whole frame tremblcd, as he said.
"a notice of a-dcath."
III am very sorry" said the editor.
kindly and with genuine sympathy.
"What is the nalne?:"
%'Johnnic.' We never called him
anything else. He was named John
after me. but I'd rather have it print
cd 'Johnnie.'"
"When did he dic?"
This evening. sir. 1t was very
sudden. and it ONE harder ON that
account. though God knows ii would
be hard enough if we'd been cNpcct-
in it. Such things never come easy
to them that loves their children, and
IL"
He held his faded old hat before
his face fora moment.
"How old was hc::" asked the editor,
glancing with misty eyes at a photo.
graph in a little red-plush frame on
his desk. the photograph of a hand
some, bright-cycd little boy with thick
.urls and smiling face.
-Four years and SIX months to a
day sir, and our only one. That
makesitsecm still harder. His moth
er's bout heart broken. and IL
we'll. it's turriblc hard to sit and
watch Il little life like that go out.
II to think of what the home will
be without it. You got children. -sir::"
The editor pointed toward the pho
tograph. and said:
This is my little hoy"
He's a sw%eet-lookin' little Teller. 7
hope he'll be spared to you. We've
got a good photograph of Johnnie.
That's one comfort. 1 wouldn't take
a million dollars for it now. Now,
how much will it be for writin' and
prirtin' that notice."
Nothing at ALL"
mo? Well, I'm a thousand times
obliged, and l-I-hopc nobody'll
ever have to write such a notice for
you bout that little boy of yours"
He wiped his eyes with a handker-
chief wet with his tears, and went
down the stairs as slowly as he had
come up. and back to his poor little
desolate home, to walk softly with
bowed head in the presence OF death.
and to try to comfort his bruised
heart with the thought that the dear
little boy had gone to join the hosts
of heaven.-Frec Press.