The Junior Classics, Volume 9: Stories of To-day — John Shaqi
The Junior Classics, Volume 9: Stories of To-day
General
The Junior Classics, Volume 9: Stories of To-day
Children's literature; Children's stories
I want you to listen to a sad, sweet story to-day, and yet one that ought
to make you glad—glad that such men have lived as those of whom I am
going to tell you. It all happened a good many years ago, in fact so long
ago that your fathers and mothers were little boys and girls in kilts and
pinafores, some of them mere babies in long clothes.
One bright Sunday morning in April the telegraph wires could be heard
repeating the same things all over the land, “Tic, tic; tictic; t-i-c;
tic, tictic;—tic, t-i-c, tic; t-i-c; tic, t-i-c; t-i-c, t-i-c, tic,” they
called out, and the drowsy telegraph operators sat up in their chairs as
if startled by the words the wires were saying.
“Tic, t-i-c, tic; tictic; tic, tictic; tic; t-i-c, tictic;—tic, tic;
t-i-c, tic,” continued the wires, and the faces of the telegraph
operators grew pale. Any looker-on could have seen that something
dreadful was being told by the wires.
“Tic, t-i-c, tic; tictic; tic, tictic; tic; t-i-c, tictic;—tic, tic;
t-i-c, tic,” again repeated the wires. There was no mistaking the message
this time. Alas, alas, it was true! The terrible news was true! Even the
bravest among the operators trembled.
Then came the rapid writing out of the fearful words that the slender
wires had uttered, the hurrying to and fro; and messenger boys were seen
flying to the great newspaper offices, and the homes of the mayors of the
cities, and to the churches where already the people were beginning to
assemble. For the deep-toned Sabbath church bells high up in the steeples
had been ringing out their welcome to all, even the strangers in their
midst—“Bim! Baum! Bim!” they sang, which everybody knew meant, “Come to
church, dear people! Come! Come! Come!” And the people strolled leisurely
along toward the churches—fathers and mothers and little ones, and even
grandfathers and grandmothers. It was such a bright, pleasant day that
it seemed a joy to go to the house of God and thank Him for all His love
and care. So one family after another filed into their pews while the
organist played such soft, sweet music that everybody felt soothed and
quieted by it.
Little did they dream of the awful words which the telegraph wires were
at that very moment calling out with their “Tic, t-i-c, tic; t-i-c; tic,
t-i-c; t-i-c, t-i-c, tic;—Tic, t-i-c, tic, tictic, tic, tictic; tic;
t-i-c; tictic.”
The clergymen came in and took their places in the pulpits. In each
church the organ ceased its wordless song of praise. The congregation
bowed and silently joined with all their hearts in the petitions which
the clergyman was offering to the dear Lord, Father of all mankind, Ruler
of heaven and earth. Some of them softly whispered “Amen” as he asked
protection for their homes and their beloved country. Did they know
anything about the danger which even then hung over them? Perhaps they
did.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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