"Is this the tel'graph office?" Asked a childish voice one day, As I noted the click of my instrument With its message from far away. As it ceased, I turned; at my elbow, Stood the merest scrap of a boy, Whose childish face was all aglow, With the light of a hidden joy.
The golden curls on his forehead, Shaded eyes of the deepest blue, As if a bit of the summer sky Had lost in them its hue. They scanned my office rapidly, From ceiling down to floor, Then turned on mine their eager gaze, As he asked the question o'er,
"Is this the tel'graph office?" "It is my little man," I said, "Pray tell me what you want And I'll help you if I can." Then the blue eyes grew more eager, And the breath came thick and fast; And I saw within the chubby hands, A folded paper grasped.
"Nurse told me," he said, "that the lighting Came down on the wires, some day; And my mamma has gone to heaven, And I'm lonely since she is away. For my papa is very busy, And hasn't much time for me, So I thought I'd write her a letter, And I've brought it for you to see.
"I've printed it big, so the angels Could read out quick, the name, And carry it straight to my mamma, And tell her how it came; And now, won't you please to take it, And throw it up good and strong, Against the wires in a thunder shower, And the lightning will take it along."
Ah! What could I tell the darling? For my eyes were filling fast; I turned away to hide the tears, But I cheerfully spoke at last. "I'll do the best I can, my child," T'was all that I could say; "Thank you," he said, then scanned the sky. "Do you think it will thunder to-day?"
But the blue sky smiled in answer, And the sun shone dazzling bright, And his face as he slowly turned away, Lost some of its gladsome light. "But nurse," he said, "if I stay so long," "Won't let me come any more; So good-bye, I'll come and see you again Right after a thunder shower."
—K.L.G.H. Good Housekeeping, February 2, 1889. p. 153.