HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Wingham Advance, 1922-12-21, Page 1114,4
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A Childs 'Christmas Tale
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NE cold December evening a little girl stood shiver-
ing on the doorstep of a handsome residence, Her
dress was ragged and torn and her poor little feet
and hands had no protection or covering whatso-
ever. She lay couched on the doorstep in a miser-
able heap, and none of the passersby paid :the slightest attention
to her.
Inside the residence, in a warm, cosy sitting room, a lonely
widow sat mourning for her only .child. This was Christmas Eve
and two years ago she had received the and tidings of his death,
He had :died bravely fighting in the Great War, and his mother
loved'to retrospect upon the happy days of his childhood when
little hands and feet had done their best to render her happy.
Little Gertrude, for that was the name of the .poor waif on
the door -step, was also alone in the world. A few hours ago, re-
turning home to her miserable shelter after selling her papers on
her crossing she had found her sick grandmother dead. Exposure
and overwork had killed the poor weak body at last. Gertrude,
horrified • at this strange cold death had fled from the mournful
all her heart and gradually their love for each other increased until
they each found a fuller happiness on earth than is the share of
most mortals,
And this is a tale.of Christmas for the divine Providence had
led these two lonely ones unto each other on Christmas Eve.
WHY THE CHIMES RANG,
In a faraway Y wherefew people county have ever travelled
stood a wonderful church. The churls stood on a high hill in the
oity. The people went to the church on Sunday and on Christmas
even looking like ants all going the same way.
The entrance had stone columns and dark passages, The
main door was so large that one could see from the doorway to
the marble altar. The organ was in a far corner of the room.
When the organ was played it could be heard for miles around.
People closed their windows and doors and got ready for a thunder
storm.
But the strangest thing about the church was the chime of
As they looked all they saw was the figure of little brother,
who had crept softly to the altar and laid the silver piece there.
THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT IN NORTHLAND.
To -day I looked upon a world that is fair to see; its virgin=
white drapery, is green and grey mottled woodlands, clear skies,
welcome sunlight,, the cheerful song of the chicadees and blue -
jays, the antics of the scolding squirrels. Underfoot the snow
scrunched and squeaked, signifyng it was just cold enough for a
comfortable ramble, and so I visited the deer "yard" and was
glad to see the wolves had not yet molested them, theircriss-cross
runways along which I surprised several who peered at one with
large, pathetic eyes and then walked into the deeper shade of the
cedars, How 'picturesque the beaver -houses looked, miniature
like mosques among the tamarac from which a lone Arctic Wood-
pecker tapped for its dinner.
Along the glare ice I walked and slid acrossing the slithering
scene and had wandered about the Streets until at last overcome
by fatigue and cold she had sought shelter on a friendly doorstep.
The slow hours wore on oblivious to the sorrow or suffering
of the world. The lady of the house took her lamp at midnight
and wrapping a shawl about her went to see what the weather
was like.
To her amazement she nearly stumbled over a bundle of rags
which lay hunched up on the doorstep. She lowered the flickering
flame in order to discover what it might be and was surprised to
find a poor little waif of seven or eight soundly sleeping, in spite
of the cold.
Touched by pity, the lady wrapped the child in her shawl
and lifting the waif in her arms brought her into the house.
She bathed the poor chilled little body in warm water, and
after a brisk rubbing with a towel wrapped the child well up in a
blanket and carried her up to bed. The child was too weak to
protest and the widow managed to feed her with some hot gruel
before she went off to sleep. Her :dreams were all of wondrous
palaces of gold, for she was never to know the. shadow of care again.
Before retiring the widow opened her window wide and gazed
out into the night. ` The night was clear and starry and a golden
moon. was gliding softly across the dark expanse of blue.
The w P
widow amused uon this peaceful scene for a while and theta
knelt down and prayed to God that she might have the little waif
for her own, to guard and care for and verily in the days to come
God answered her prayer, for, little Gertrude grew to love her with
YOUNG CANADA
bells, They were in the tower. There was ivy growing all round
it. It was so high that only on a fair day could one see the top.
The 'bells had always hung in the tower.
They had not been heard for many years. There was an
old man living in the town who said that his mother had heard
the chimes when she was a little girl. This was the last time the
chimes had been heard.
It was the custom of the people, rich and poor, to bring gifts
on Christmas eve. They placed them on the altar. When the
greatest and best gift was placed on the altar, the music of the
chimes could be heard.
A number of miles from the city lived two little boys. They
know little about the chimes but they had heard of the service
on Christmas eve. They planned to go to the church.
Pedro said. "We might be able to see the Christ child. I
have heard hecomes to bless the service.
It was hard for Pedro to stay but he choked back the tears
as he heard little brother's footsteps going farther away.
The church was beautiful that evening and Pedro felt the
ground tremble when the organ played. After the service the
people took their gifts to the altar. But the chimes did not ring.
After the gifts were placed on the altar, the choir began to
sing. Suddenly the organist stopped playing and everyone looked
at the minister as he stood with his hand raised.
As they listened, sweetly and clearly came the music of the
Chimes.
like trail of three otter and a mink. I had seen and enjoyed nature
in her true shape.
And now I lean back in the old rocking chair and the flickering,
spluttering fireplace awakens memories. And my thoughts drift
back towards civilization and crowded cities and I remember that
on this the 25th day of December, the world that we know of
becomes a veritable brotherhood of man, on this day at least the
disparity in class distinction is wiped away in a common emotion
of good -will. It, stirs up our dormant feelings, it makes us for-
get our cares and troubles for this one day at least we are happy.
Why cannot we live more days in the year in the same spirit, why
confine all our goodness, charitable inclinations and good will to
one day? Humanity is strangely ignorant of its simplest emotions.
In a vague way we know that happiness and pleasure comes from
our consciousness of doing right, but we don't always live up to
this precept, excepting perhaps this one day of the year, Who
knows but from the well spring of this most memorable time that
brotherhood of man may arise to glorify in truth that old, old
saying, "Peace on earth, good will to men."
And here, buried as it were in the depths of the Northland
woods, far removed from the sound of church bells and close fel-
lowship of men, one still feels that happy, contented -like infection
that Christmas brings. It is good to live and be contented with
your lot and look forward to the coming year with the same spirit
that this day of days brings to one.
Miskolcway.
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The Lights on h ri Tree
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its drystal load, exactly like' a diamond -powdered, Batton -tufted. Christ-
ntas gree, .
'That recalled her to tier dilein a, 'She turned ina:patiently and
drew the heavy curtains close to shut out • the sight. As...-shes stood
thus, a -pose for a portrait; against the rich draperies, Mrs, Leverett
did not look like a woman to be afraid of any man, least of;all her
own son, On the contrary., she looked what she was; a handsome,
cultivated, self-reliant woman, accustomed to grant -rather than to
seek favors. Indeed, as she stood watching the long-legged; stalwart
young fellow, stretched out i.n the deep -cushioned arm -chair, she re-
Meua:bered how many times she had watched him, when he had•dallied•
thus rather than confess- some childish misdoing, and her lips twitched
humorously as she 'thought how the tables ta!ere turned. They were
wonderfully alike—the mother and son. There was the same free
poise of the head, the same dark -lashed .blue eyes, the same delicately-
chisclled, resolute chin. He differed from her chiefly in being of the
heavier, masculine mould,, and in having certain bright lights in his
close -cropped, wavy hair.
As she studied the intent boyish face, a wave of mother -love
washed over the trivial ordeal of telling hint. She noted the new lines
in his face—oh, did she not know every new one!—sad, hard tunes,
the man's lines, etched there during the last few months. Had he
then really cared so deeply for that shallow, faithless girl?
"He must have cared," she decided, "not to have told. his
mother."
'['hen she found herself wondering bitterly and foolishly, no
doubt, how any girl could trifle with and be indifferent to her boy.
He must have felt her steady gaze, for he looked up.
"Did you speak to me, mother?"
She started -guiltily. "Yes—no—that is—I was just going to,"
she said. "I was going to tell you, Vincent, that I"—she hurried on
before her courage could fail again -"I have offered the house to.
Elizabeth Hunt on Christmas Eve. She wants to give her Sunday
School Class a Christmas -tree." -
It was out at last—a blank cartridge apparently, for all the ef-
fect it had. Vincent looked politely interested, but not at all shocked.
"Yes," he said, and dexterously ran the paper -knife between the re-
maining- leaves of an article on "The Potential Possibilities of Elect-
ricity as Applied to Submarine Projectiles." Then, seeing that she
seemed to expect something more or different of him, he added-
- "Elizabeth Hunt -teaches a Sunday School Class, does she? .1
suppose they are the children of some of the people we know?"
"Oh, dear, -no, Vincent!" It wasn't over, then, after all. "Not
that sort. None of our friends' children at all. A dozen poor little
things from Bridge End."
That shoot took effect. The big bridge that bisected South Hav-
en might have been the impassable gulf, if one could judge by the at-
titude of the happy inhabitants of the town -people toward the less
fortunate ones who lived near what was popularly known as Bridge
Encl.
"Turn the house over to an invasion of little hooligans from that
part of town! Why, mother, what could have moved you—of all wom-
en—to do such a thing?"
"I was afraid you wouldn't approve, Vincent, and 'I suppose
I was impulsive, but you should hear Elizabeth talk about them.. She
is so absorbed in the work—goes right into their homes and teaches
their mothers to cook and to bath them—"
Vincent whistled. "It's a good idea, doubtless, but to think of
Elizabeth Hunt's doing it! How does she look since she has turned a
sister of charity?"
"Wait and see." His mother tried to speak lightly. "Of course
you will he home Christmas Eve, and I told Elizabeth I thought you
would fix some electric lights on the tree for her, and that you would-
n't mind picking -up the children with your car and taking them twine
again—the children would be so delighted, and Elizabeth would be
ever so pleased."
It was all out at last, and Vincent Leverett leaned back and gas -
ed at the gentle culprit, while she looked like a naughty child caught
stealing sweets. After a moment he spoke—
"So, you told her I would rig up the tree with electricity, pick
tip the kiddies, and later return them to the various family bosoms—
wasn't that quite a contract?"
Mrs. Leverett could laugh now. She saw that the worst was
over.
"You do make it sound so, Vincent; I don't know why I did it,
but—someway—I can't refuse Elizabeth anything."
"So it seems! Well, this is all you promised 1 hope. You didn't
hand me oterinto the bargain, did you?
Mrs. l.everett's face became suddenly serious.
"I am no matchmaker, my son, but if I were going to transfer
my claim on you to anyone. I know of no one l would select sooner
than Elizabeth—"
It was the young man's turn to look annoyed.
"I beg your pardon, mother. 1 hope you don't think I was cad
enough to be in earnest: but as you evidently are, really it is a little
for me to understand your great liking for Elizabeth Hunt—"
"Oh! I know she isn't beautiful, nor what men scent to consider
fascinating, but she's fine and sweet and kind." Mrs. Leverett spoke
with an intensity that brought a smile to her son's face.
"She has evidently captivated you, mother." Then, picking up
his magazine, "well, you get your tree, and I'll see about lighting it.
As for the rest I suppose 1 can manage it, if you're very anxious."
\Vitt which rather grudging consent Mrs. Leverett had to he content.
But as this time for the Christmas festivities approached, Vin-
cent found himself interested almost in spite of himself. He had filled
tits tree with brilliant coloured lights that made it seem a bit of fairy-
land transferred to a modern mansion. He ltacl even visited the shops
for some toys for the youngsters, and Christmas Eve found him. at
Bridge End, somewhat amused over the whole affair.
"Shall we have to make two trips?" he questioned, smiling at
Elizabeth as she was stowing the children away in the motor.
"Olt, I don't think so, if you can manage one beside you," the
girl answered, smiling back at hint.
"All right.. Hand her over," Vincent -replied, as ire reached a
steadying hand toward a slender child who was climbing into the front
of the car.
"Her name is Anne," Elizabeth went on, as the child lifted a
sweet, serious face framed in an infant's bonnet. "And this," she add-
ed, "is little Nell. Last and least," she concluded, picking no a tiny
• girl dressed in garments that would have fitted Anne much better,
For a minute Vincent' glance rested on the dimpled baby fact,
and then passed to that of the girl bending above it. No, she wasn't
pretty. - His mother was right, in that particular anyway. Rut there
was a certain winsomeness about her that was almost better than
beauty. '['here was a certain gleam itt her dark eyes that caused his
. own to light in happy comradeship,
"Are you going to invite me to your party?" It was to the sol -
emit -faced Anne that he addressed the remark, though his eyes met
Elizabeth and then returned to Aline.
A shy smile Crept over the child's face,
• "She means she will be delighted," laughed Elizabeth,
"Does that include the hostess?" Vincent laughed, too, in sheer
pleasure over the situation.
"I
should thirds' ilta.t your mother would be more than delight- shot c .e
ed. The girl's s Ssmilesmilewas a, bit roguish as site glanced at the big to fel-
low late- Whose eyes m t collie a look of kindness that WAS almost