PAPA'S LETTER.

Bruce Herald, Volume XVII, Issue 1602, 16 January 1885, Page 6

PAPA'S LETTER.

I was sitting in my study, Writing letters, when I heard, " Please dear Mama Mary told me Mama mustn't be disturbed; But I'se tired of playin' with Kitty, Wants Borne uder ting to do, Witin' letters is 'ou Mama ? Tant I wite a letter too ?" ••Not now, darling, Mama's busy, Run and play with Kitty now." "No, no Mama, me wite letters, Tan if you will show me how." I would paint my darling's portrait, As his sweet eyes searched my face — Hair of gold and eyes of azure, . Form of childish witching grace. But the eager face was clouded, As I slowly shook my head, Till I said " rll make a letter Of you darling boy instead." So I parted back the tresses From the forehead high and white, And a stamp, in sport, I pasted, Midst its wave of golden light. Then I said, "now little letter Run away and bear good news," And I Bmiled, as down the staircase Clattered loud the little shoes. Leaving me the darling hurried Down to Mary in his glee, " Mama's witin' lots of letters Ise a letter Mary, see." No one heard the little prattle, As once more he climbed the stair; Beached his little cap and tippet, Standing on the entry there. No one heard the front door open, No one saw the golden hair As it floated o'er his shoulders, In the crisp October air. Down the street the baby hastened, Till he reached the office door, " I'se a letter Mister Postman Is der room for any more ? Tause dis letter's goin' to PapaPapa lives with God 'ou knowMama sent me for a letter, Does 'on tink at I tan go P" But the clerk in wonder answered: " Not to-day my little man." " Den I'll find anuder office, Tause I must go, If I tan." Fain the clerk would have detained him, But the pleading face was gone, And the little feet were hastening, By the busy crowd swept on. Suddenly the crowd was parted; People fled to left and right, As a pair of maddened horses, At the moment dashed in sight, No one saw the baby f gure j No one saw the golden hair, Till a voice of frightened sweetness Rang out on the silent air, 'Twas too late; a moment only Stood the beauteous vision there, Then the little face lay lifeleßs Covered o'er with golden hair. Reverently they raised my darling, Brushed away the curls of gold, Saw the stamp upon the forehead, Growing now so icy cold. Not a mark the face disfigured, Showing where a hoot' had trod, But the little life was ended, Papa's letter was with God.