[The little engine, “Tennessee,” that always drew the private car of President Thomas stands draped in mourning for thirty days.]
Do you know, as you stand there waiting, Rigged out in your trappings of woe, That someone lies dead, up yonder? Do you know, Tennessee, do you know?
Do you know why that grim, black banner Trails over each shining place? Do you understand, I wonder, The stain on your fireman’s face?
Do you know, as you stand there waiting, You dear little thing, Tennessee, That the cab and the coach are empty? Lonesome as they can be?
That the face that shone out from the window, Flashing your welcome back, No more will brighten the darkness Of the desolate, lonely track.
Does it hurt you to know that his footstep Will linger no more at the door? Does it hurt you to know that his presence Will gladden the way no more.
He is dead! Can you understand it? Under your brass and steel, Because that his great heart loved you, I am sure you must know and feel.
Yet, your whistle would shriek its anguish, I am sure, if you understood, And your bell would toll if I touched it; You would voice your grief if you could.
You must know, as you stand there waiting, Rigged out in your misery, He would come if he could, for he loved you, You poor little friend, Tennessee.
Dumb things have a speech of their own, though, And I’m sure you are trying to tell Of those long, good flights together, For I know that he loved you well.
Just a month you must wear your trappings, Your lustreless emblems of woe; But I’m sure you will miss him forever Deep down in the heart, you know.
I toss you a sigh, and a heartbreak, And I give you this truth, in a tear; The sting of death isn’t dying, But memory, do you hear?
[Through the kindness of John C. Winston & Co., publishers, of Philadelphia, Pa., we are permitted to give to our readers this treat, being one of the chapters from the forthcoming novel of John Trotwood Moore, entitled “The Bishop of Cottontown,” now in the Winston press, and which will be issued by them early in March. This novel has been pronounced truly great by many publishers’ readers. It deals with child labor in the Southern cotton mills and the Bishop is the kindly old preacher and ex-trainer of ante-bellum thoroughbreds, who is the hero of the book.—E. E. Sweetland, Business Manager.]
