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Show WHY THE LIGHT WENT OUT. Next time you go out on the Michigan Central Road, take a seat on the right-hand side of the car, so that you may notice, about ten miles down the road, a little, old, red farm-house. The curtains will be down, the doors shut, and the weeds and tall grasses will meet the flying glance in the front yard. A month ago old Nan Rogers lived there; today the place is in the keeping of rats and mice and desolation. The old woman was a widow and childless. If she had a relative anywhere in this great world, those who buried her were not aware of the fact. She lived all alone, having only a bit of land, and being aided by kind neighbors to raise enough to supply her wants. Seven or eight years ago, when her last child left home to meet a violent death on this same road, the men of the rails became interested in that quaint old farm-house. One night they saw a bright light in one of the windows. Its rays streamed out over the flowers and fell upon the rails along which the wheels thundered, and the engineer wondered over the signal. The lamp was there the next night and the next, and it was never missed for a single night until one evening a month ago. Old Nan, deprived of husband and children, made friends with the rushing trains and their burdens. The train-men soon found that the lamp was for them, and they watched for it. During the early evening hours they saw old Nanny's face behind the light or at the door, and a thousand times conductors, engineers and brakemen have called cheerily through the darkness: "Good night, old Nanny-God bless you!" Winter and summer the light was there. Winter and summer the train-men looked for it, and the more thoughtful ones often left a bit of money with the station-men beyond to help the old woman keep the bright rays shining. The lamp was not there for one train, but for all, and all men understood the sentiment and appreciated it. One dark night, not long ago, when the wind howled and the raindrops beat fiercely against the headlight and cab, the engineers missed the signal-light. They looked for it again and again, as one suddenly misses an old landmark in a city, and when they failed to find it, the hand instinctively went to the throttle, as if danger lurked on the curve below. Each train abroad that night looked for the signal, became anxious at its absence, and made inquiry at the stations above and below. Next day men went down to the little old house, fearing old Nanny might be ill. There sat the lamp on the windowsill but the oil was exhausted. In her bed, seeming to have only fallen asleep, was the poor old woman, cold and dead. Life and the lamp had gone out together, and men of rough look and hardened hear replied as the heard the news: "Poor old woman! May her spirit rest in Heaven!-Detroit Free Press. |
