The Pascagoula democrat-star. (Pascagoula, Miss.) 1878-1920, 1894-01-26
SCRANTON MISSISSIPPI, FRIDAY, JANUARY 2e
A wAIr.

The managing editor was tired. He
had been up all night putting out his
eyes trying to deciphcr undeciphera-
bic writing. toning down that hair
raising story young Biks had just
brought in, and shying empty ink
bottles at the concertina on the back
fence. There was a tired rap on the
door and a man entered the room.
Tramp was written on his Clothes,
but his hands were clean and his nails
suggestive Of attention, wrote Mar
guerct O'Bren in the Birmingham
Aage-IIerald.
"Can you give me job ?' he asked.
"What can you do?"
ooh, anything-set type, do repor-
torial work or anything you say
"No, Iguess not. The Office is full
got more now than we want. Good
morning."
But the man fingered. II say, part
ncr," he began, 1--WE just struck it
from the Rockies, and Pm clear down
IN my luck. Can't you give me a job (?
I'd do anythng-make fires, sweepthe
ofiice-anythngw But the tired edi-
tor did not look up.
"Much obliged, but we do not need
your services, he said briefly, and
scratch, scratch went the busy pen.
"Well If you won't help me reckon
I'll have to look for a fence corner"
he said somewhat disconsolate, and
then putting his hand in his pocket,
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. ut kept singing
itself through my head, so thought
| might as well write it out"
He shuflled out as he said the last
word, and the busy pen moved tireless
over sheet after sheet, describing how
all newspapers should lend themselves
to the encouragement of home talent.
At last the article was done and
with a quick sweep the editor was
gathering up his loose sheets when the
paper the tramp threw upon the desk
met his eye. Opening it carelessly,
he soon became interested, and when
he read the last line, he called the
Office 'deyIl" and two reporters and,
giving them description of the tramp
sent them in search of him. But he
had vanished as suddenly as he had
come, and so these beautiful illness are
to go unsponsored. Their tender
beauty points many mind back to
childish days when each night, lips
now unused to prayer, repeated at Il
mothers knee the dear old lines,
"Now | Jay me down to sleep"
Near the campAre's flickering light
In my blanket bed | lie,
Gazing through the shades Of night
| At the twinkling stars on high.
Der 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 whipporwill
In the boughs OF y0nder tree,
Laughingly the mountain rill
Swells the midnight melody.
FOeman may be lurking near.
In the canon dark and deep;
Lo breathe in Jesus ear,
II pray the Lord my soul to keep"
Mid the stars one face l see
One the Savior 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, Savior, dear,
eff should die before | wake"
Fainter grows the flickering light
AS each emher slowly dies.
Plaintiyely the birds Of night
Fill the air with saddened cries
Over me they seem to cry
"You may never more awaken
L0 lisp, if should die,
II pray the Lord my soul to take.
"Now lay me down to sleep,
pray the Lord my soul to keep,
III should die before wake,
pray the Lord my soul to take"