Part 22 (2/2)

And out he went in the world, and toiled In his own appointed way, And the people blessed him, the land was glad, And the king was well and gay.

PRAYING FOR PAPA.

A man who had been walking for some time in the downward path, came out of his house and started down town for a night of carousal with some old companions he had promised to meet. His young wife had besought him with imploring eyes to spend the evening with her, and had reminded him of the time when evenings pa.s.sed in her company were all too short. His little daughter had clung about his knees and coaxed in her pretty, wilful way for ”papa” to tell her some bedtime stories, but habit was stronger than love for wife and child, and he eluded their tender questioning by the special sophistries the father of evil advances at such times from his credit fund, and went his way.

But when he was a few blocks distant from his home, he found that in changing his coat he had forgotten to remove his wallet, and he could not go out on a drinking bout without money, even though he knew his family needed it, and his wife was economizing every day more and more in order to make up his deficits, and he hurried back and crept softly past the windows of the little house, in order that he might steal in and obtain it without running the gauntlet of either questions or caresses.

But something stayed his feet; there was a fire in the grate within--for the night was chilly--and it lit up the little parlor and brought out in startling effects the pictures on the wall. But these were as nothing to the pictures on the hearth. There, in the soft glow of the fire-light knelt his child at the mother's feet, its small hands clasped in prayer, its fair head bowed; and as its rosy lips whispered each word with distinctness, the father listened, spell-bound to the spot:

”Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep; If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.”

Sweet pet.i.tion! The man himself, who stood there with bearded lips shut tightly together, had said that prayer once at his mother's knee. Where was that mother now? The sunset gates had long ago unbarred to let her through.

But the child had not finished; he heard her say ”G.o.d bless mamma, papa, and my ownself”--and there was a pause, and she lifted her troubled blue eyes to her mother's face.

”G.o.d bless papa,” prompted the mother, softly.

”G.o.d bless papa,” lisped the little one.

”And--please send papa home sober”--he could not hear the mother as she said this, but the child followed in a clear, inspired tone:

”G.o.d--bless--papa--and--please--send--him--home--sober. Amen.”

Mother and child sprang to their feet in alarm when the door opened so suddenly, but they were not afraid when they saw who it was, returned so soon. That night, when little Mamie was being tucked up in bed after such a romp with papa, she said in the sleepiest and most contented of voices:

”Mamma, G.o.d answers most as quick as the telegraph, doesn't he?”

BECALMED.

BY SAMUEL, K. COWAN.

It was as calm as calm could be; A death-still night in June; A silver sail on a silver sea, Under a silver moon.

Not the least low air the still sea stirred; But all on the dreaming deep The white s.h.i.+p lay, like a white sea-bird, With folded wings, asleep.

For a long, long month, not a breath of air; For a month, not a drop of rain; And the gaunt crew watched in wild despair, With a fever in throat and brain.

And they saw the sh.o.r.e, like a dim cloud, stand On the far horizon-sea; It was only a day's short sail to the land, And the haven where they would be.

Too faint to row--no signal brought An answer, far or nigh.

Father, have mercy; leave them not Alone, on the deep, to die.

And the gaunt crew prayed on the decks above; And the women prayed below: ”One drop of rain, for Heaven's great love!

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