HomeMy WebLinkAboutClinton New Era, 1895-12-20, Page 9it
:'r
tNEENT
rte QZlI. .>ut1r's 17BRI1n'M#L,.
The Older* rat together,
The
cid played apart,, 4
.And heededllo1 disaueebgnr
Qt nature er et ex*,
But when 1Q irber Rglltnre
Pt, eoeveroatton turned,
ll'orsom. specific knOTriedge a
ri%gas 'Attie pitchers" "yearned,
ter bdars'or,foreign eonntriee,
Of trees that in thein: grow,
Viespracea.and the .dr -trema
That bloom in Nor' r$y'ti show. e
rid ppioe tit cep of; Arabia!
Thtir3Plare tali of France,
Tire•tWe of Vallambrosa,
,The Wen trees thatdance.
'The pal= of California
Came next in the routine,
When suddenly a small boy
Wasileard as well as seen.
"Coln%off l' he eaid; "you're talking 1
dere"s,;Sara, an' Jess, an' me
Ain't heard a single mention
About the Christas tree."
plomewbere up in skyland, in wonderland,
in whyland,
Or some other byland—nobody knows
where
An old fellow merry, with lips like a
berry,
And nose like a cherry—comes down o'er
his stair.
When north winds are blowing, and storm
clouds are snowing,
Els white beard is flowing afloat in the
air; .
For all in a flurry, he starts in a hurry,
The reindeer to curry—to come from
Somewhere.
8e knows we are waiting, with merry lips
prating,
In earnest debating, how soon he'll ap-
pear,
But, hark 1 hear him singing ; his bells he
is ringing ;
His gifts he is bringing. Hurrah I he is
here.
There came a little child to earth,
Long ago ;
And the angels of God proclaimed His
birth,
High and low.
Out of the night so calm and still
Their song was heard,
For they knew that the child on Bethle-
hem's bill
Was,Christ the Lord.
Far away in .a goodly land
Fair and bright,
'Children with crowns of glory stand,
Robed in white ;
19. 1dte more pure than the spotless
srlo
A�rd their tongues unite
In the psalm\ which the angels sang long
• _ago
On Christmas night.
$'hey:sang how the Lord of that world so
° .,fair,
A child alas born ;
And that they mibht a crown of glory
*ear•
a crown of thorn,
And in mortal weakness, in want and
.r` pain,
Came forth to die,
That children of earth might forever reign
With him on high.
He has put en his Ifirrgty apparel now,
In that goodly land :
And He leads, to where fountains of water
flow,
That chosen band.
And forever in garments fair
And undefiled,
Those ransomed children His praise de-
clare;
Who once was a child.
Ic
CHRISTMAS WHEN
I WAS A BOY.
BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE.
Christmas was much farther apart' when
I was a boy. It came, by the almanac,
once a year, which was right and regular.
But such long years have never been,
since long ago. Possibly one reason why
the arrival of Christmas was long deferred
each year was that we Lived in the West.
It was the West then—that long -departed
and of pioneer memories and forgotten
ventures—and Christmas came, like the
se men, from distant lands. It came to
a from the East. Had it started in the
summer time it could have "staged it"
over the Alleghenies ; and then, if haply
there had been some water in the Ohio
River, as there sometimes is in the sum-
mer time, it would have taken boat for St.
Louis, and there, finding an Illinois River
packet with two decks and a texas, capac-
ity for one hundred cabin passengers and
all the freight that could be piled on with-
out falling off, and drawing about four
inches of water, it could have reached
Peoria the same year.
But then it wouldn't have been Christ-
mas. It came in the old-fashioned way,
on runners, with jingling bolls and clatter
of reindeer hoofs, up hill and down dale,
flying across wide stretches of drifted
prairie, lying in the starlight like a frozen
sea, skimming over frozen rivers and ice-
bound lakes. It took a long time, for the
distances worpmnagniflcent as the'prairies.
I d• unhOrstand it all very clearly at
tli
easy to understand a great
when I was a boy that have
nd perplexing problems and
rinysteries since I became a
ut away the pleasant theories
things. Coheerning Christ -
not heard wdflh my own ears,
of 10,oth4ret,. tht indeer scam-
eroof aboVe qrs • each t aid
bear thb.e'.. ••.' hoist of
i
TUE, CLINTON NEW ',ERA
,
encouragement !roti n,x bufiXee YQioe, and
hear the %rack of the whip that wae plait,
ed by fairy bands in "` Ohristniae-tree
Laski," ae the antlered team of elx-in-hated
leaped froze cornice to• the ground t X
ootid have proved it, too, If tt hadn,'t
snowed that night and covered all tine
tracks of reindeer and eletgh. Did I noir
Ile awake one night and hear subdued
laughter in the room where hung all our
stookinge f Indeed I did. Aad so excited
was I that, instead of creeping softly
down tbe ball, I sprang from bed, and ran
pad -padding .to the door of the sitting -
Mom, and as I pushed 'it opelaziidtrot.
bear the hurtled rustling Q ,robes and
scampering of feet ? By the Sacred
Books of the ° Sybil and the Great
Pocket Book of Rockefeller, I did 1 I
rushed is and Waked up the chimney, but
he was gone. 1 peered lute the room
where slept my parents, but their pain-
fully labored breathing told me, with im-
pressive emphasis, how they slumbered. I
had nearly caught Kris Kringle in the. act.
I think once, indeed, I did see him. I
can't remember when nor where. But I
must have seen him, because my concep-
tion of him, indeed, my personal know-
ledge of his appearance, is a memory of
my early childhood. It has never
changed.
When I was a boy, I knew nothing of
Santo Claus. His name was Kris Kringle.
Occasionally in some of Kris Kringle's
books there was mention of Santa Claus.
But we looked upon him with great dis-
favor, and called him "Sandy Claws." He
was generally believed to have come from
Boston, whereas Kris Kringle cause from
heaven, which is, possibly, the reason why
he has been superseded in popular favor
in these latter days. I always accept the
inevitable, and I have long since most
loyally transferred my allegiance from
Kris Kringle the Was to Santa Claus the
Is, but still I feel there is loving power
and reminiscent influence "in that strange
spell," a, g, n, a, i, g, h, m, a—name.
One thing.I do most distinctly remem-
ber, with all the tenacity and accuracy of
an old settler's reminiscences. Kris
Kringle seldom failed to bring a sioveful
of snow with him. During his reign tha
dreaded "green Christmas," marshaling
the inevitable "fat graveyard," was the
exception. I cot'ld prove this, but 1 dont
have to. When I know a thing, that
should be satisfactory. And it is often
much easier to know a thing than it is to
prove it. This happens to be one of the
things. But it did snow, in those older
days. Sometimes it snowed right on
Christmas Day, just as it does in the
books which are distributed at Christmas
time in Florida and Southern California.
The first winter we lived in Illinois we
had a Christmas according to the books.
My brother and I had new sleds. Not
store sleds, gaudily decorated with sten-
ciled trotting horses .and a name that no
self-respecting boy would give to a stone -
drag, let alone a sled, but real hand sleds,
made by a regularly ordained carpenter.
They were not so good as they would have
been had we made them ourselves, of
course, but they were far and away better
than store sleds. They were ready for the
snow about the last week in November.
And early in December the snow came
down. And stayed down. And kept on
coming down, It drifted up to the win-
dows and over the fences. The country
"EVERY HILL WAS A TOBOGGAN CHUTE."
roads were turned into embankments.
When the first flakes came fluttering
down, a double case of whoopingcongh
trundled itself into our houee and
took two boys by their respective necks
and kept them on the war -path until the
springtime brought its healing sunshine
and malarial mud. Then it resigned and
gave place to "fever 'n' ager." But all
that winter was made of gala days to boys
who could get out. Every hill was a to-
boggan chute, and every bob -sled or sleigh
that drove past our windows dragged
after it a long trail of juvenile humanity
that had "hooked on." Think of two boys
entertaining the whooping -cough and gaz-
ing through the windows at that pano-
rama of boyish joy week after week, and
then talk about the martyrs 1 And the
worst of it was, there was no need for our
remaining in quarantine. But we hadn't
lived out West long enough to know that.
The next winter my youngest brother had
it. Ho went to school with it, coasted
with it, and one night, while skating,
broke through the ice with it. It did him
good. He was all through with it by the
end of January. We were a tough people
out West in those days, and a boy who
couldn't help build a snow fort or go a -
skating when he had the croup, was con-
sidered effeminate.
Hanging up our stockings when I was a
boy was not the hollow farce which it now
is. There were fireplaces by which stook -
fags could be hung up. To hang a collec-
tion of stockings of assorted sizes around a
black and cheerless register, smelling of
sulphur from a defective heater, is a pro-
fanation. And hanging them in front of
a cold and clammy steam radiator should
be prohibited by law. It tends to make
children skeptical and atheistic. In the
older daps Kris Kringle had a broad
chimney to come down, and a fireplace as
big as a store box to jump out of. There
wee a mantelpiece like unto a sideboard,
from which the stockings depended. Some-
times, if a long stocking were hung in the
middle, insecurely held by a pin, the draft
would draw it partly into the fireplace
during the night. Then the whole family
would be aroused, and we would go
shuffling about the house, like so many
shivering phantoms, hnnting for the fire.
The old-fashioned fireplace had more
drawbacks than the back -log. As a rule,
the bigger the fireplace the colder the
room. All the heat that could(' be drawn
from every room in the house litent up the
big sitting -room chimney. Eternal sum-
mer billet have lingered somephere up in
that great stack. Those old fireplaces
were splendid things in whf,1ch to tcast
apples. And the soles ot'y'oiir be,'S feet.
You could hold your feat p0'' )itdiore the
glowing titre until they cur up and
,warped and crinkled With :tate heat.
And by the time you: get th bed they
wer:1cold as blocks of ma '• ur feet,
the ` is. Not , • e apples. b'.t take
them to bed. You took long strides and
walked on your heels to keep them warm
That is, your feet. They filled the room
with a grateful flavor when they began to
sizzle. The apples did.
The old-fashioned fireplace was no less
romantic and interesting in the sum-
mer time, when it was enclosed
with a light paper screen. When a child,
romping about the room, fell up against
that pictured screen, and went plunging
and screaming right through the Lake of
Como, those placid waters never regained
their pristine placidity. Even when the
artist of the family restored the picture,
by pasting its shattered edges together,
and coloring them with laundry bluing,
the scene of the tragedy was emphasized
in a manner too ghastly to contemplate.
The tragedy always followed the act of
breaking through the lake. The drown-
ing, indeed, was looked upon as a sort of
comedy, and was highly enjoyed by the
bystanders, until the Life Guard, arme'
only with her slipper, rescued the sur-
vivor of the wreck. Then any person
under the age of fifteen, who had any
tears on hand that were about ripe enough
to shed, could find a ready market for the
entire crop as fast as the shedder could
turn them out.
Most of the Christmas presents in those
days were designed by the manufacturers
for the hanging stocking. Anything too
big to go into a stocking had to go over to
somebody's birthday. In any family
where there was more than one child, the
old reliable "Noah's Ark" was always
looked for. We hailed, with acclatnatious
of astonished recognition, Noah and Mrs.
Noah, Messieurs and Mesdarnee Shem,
Haan and Japhet. There was uo way of
telling the men and women apart ; they
were exactly alike ; but the elephant and
giraffe'you could distinguish at a glance,
on account of the spots on the giraffe. So
also the dog and the cow ; because the cow
was always white and bine, while the dog
was invariably plain blue. Within
twenty-four hours after the landing on
Ararat, the baby would have all the paint
sucked off Shem, Ham and the hired man,
and the doctor would be sent for. He told
us, once a year, returning with the breat b-
less messenger,' to keep the candy out of
the baby's reach, and let it wean itself on
the rest of the antediluvians if it found
them to its liking.
Tho red monkey climbing a red stick
was another regular Christmas visitor.
He was highly esteemed as a light ltnic•h-
eou by the baby. It never seemed to alii•ot
-the infant unpleasantly, to himself ti,at
is; although the cloudy symphony in red
and blue about his innocent month was
apt to make the beholder shiver. But it
made the monkey look sick. Then tli• re
was a soldier on a box, with it mohji"•-
"TRE BABY WOULD HAVE ALL THE PAINT
SUCKED OFF &REM, HAM AND JAPRET."
general's uniform, beating a drum. You
turned a crank, the general lifted bis
sticks high in the air, and something in
the box made a noise as much like a drum
as athu thunder eal 'of
p a de is like a piccolo.
These things as toys were of no great
value, but as practical and useful object
lessons they were beyond all price, on the
miens side.
It looms to me—and it isn't my fault
that the sunset is fairer and lovelier than
the sunrise—that there was something
more Christmasy about Christmas when I
was a boy. Its pleasures were simpler,
its gifts were cheaper and heartier. At
llat, I cannot remember to have read,
nave in these later years, articles in family
jouppals and magazines bewailing the
burden of toil 'and worry and expense in
they planning and ,making, or purchasing
of Christmas presents. "Krlsmns gifs"
we called thhere when I was a boy. It
didn't and doesn't have much .refinement
of culture in the spelling and the sound
thereof. But the people who made them
didn't rush into the papers to tell how
much it cost them, and how tired to death
it made them, and how glad they were
thst it was all over for another year. But
las (year and the year before I read such
articles in print. So did you. Wherefore
it seems to me that we killed Kris Kringle
a full century too soon. We have more
currants in our Christmas cake under the
reign of Santa Claus, it is true. But we
have also more flies in it.
A BACHELOR'S CHRISTMAS.
Christmas party, and, no doubt,
A loaded Christmas tree ;
And girls and boys and toys—and noise;
What do they want with me ?
And yet her friendly little note
Declares—thrice underlined—
I must not fail. Well, well, I won't 1
She's always sweet and kind.
Now, lot me see. I had not thought
Upon my wardrobe's state ;
I must lookup my evening vest—
By Jove ! it's rather late
To rummage for a satin tie
And fish out gloves to match.
Great Scott! my best shirt's at the wash
And this one needs a patch.
I'll thread a needle—if I can—
(I am the man who brags
Of single blessedness I) and see
If I can't mend these rags.
This thread's too coarse ; or else, perhaps,
My needle is too slim.
The light is poor or it may be
My sight ie getting dim.
Why were men's fingers only made
To drag and thump and jerk ?
I'm thinking how her little hand
Would get around this work 1
And how she'd smile and bite her thread,
And look so wise and calm,
And—there I I've stabbed my finger
through I
Oh, what an ase I am 1
The clock ticks on. I must make haste,
Since she desires—alas
For those lost opportunities
Our thoughtless youth let pass I
But, as she's single still, who knows,
Some joys we may retrieve.
Perhaps she'll mend up life for me
Before next Christmas eve.
—Madeline S. Bridges, in Judge.
ARTHUR'S CHRIST-
MAS LETTER.
Arthur seated himself upon the floor, in
a corner of the roam farthest from his
mother; he wrinkled his eyebrows, puck-
ered his mouth and cramping his little
fingers around a stubby lead pencil began
to write; and this is what he wrote :
"DEAIR SANTY CLAws,—P1eso dont for Get
to Fill my stockin. An Id like A Sled an
a par of skaTes. An plese giv MOThEr
tbe vEry nicEst thlnG you goT. We Live
on French street, First ChimBly dowN
2 FLighTs.
"ARTHUR HILL."
He stretched out his little numb fingers
with a sigh of relief ; for printing was
hard work for Arthur's chubby fist. Then
he glanced furtively over his shoulder, to
make sure his mother was not looking—
but no ; stitch, stitch, stitch her needle
went through the heavy coat, and she did
not once look up., So ho folded the preci-
ous letter in a painstaking manner, and
sealed it in the envelope addressed :
"MR. SANTY CLAWS,"
and stuffing it into his little pocket—re-
gardless of ot•position on the part of letter
or pocket—went softly out of the room ;
but his quit movements ended on the
landing jus outside, and he tore down the
stairs and t. rough the streets to theP ost-
office.
Perhaps theNought that there were
but two days l efore Christmas, and the
consequent fearthat the gentle reminder
might tot reach nta Claus in time, gave
the deer -like fle nemto his sturdy little
feet.
Arthur's letter lay ,among the others for
a halt hour or so, and` then a clerk began
assorting them for the' mails.
"Here's a good one " and he laughed
heartily as he hold u the crumpled en-
velo�pe.
"itis. anta Claus 1'f andhe laughed
t,
ailain, in compauy With two or three olerka
who had gathered around him.
Juet thea tlle.door opened and the poet -
master came in.
The clerk held up the letter ; "Mr, Santa
Olaua-raddreee not given) Are yen ac-
quainted with the gentleman's residence?"
Mr. Morris took the envelope and laugh-
ed, also, ae he glanced at it, and was about
to throw it down when a sudden vision of
lour little maids, with an unquestioning
faith in Santa Claus, rose before him.
"Perhaps I can find the gentleman," be
said,' with a twinkle in his kind blue eyes;
and puttirTg the envelope into his pocket
be walked away.
h was Christmas eve. There had been
a heavy snowstorm the day before, and %
had cleared off very cold. The people
were muffled in furs to their eyes—if they
had the furs—and hurried along over the
ertsp snow, which sang sharp little songs
under their feet. The rude wind wrestled
with them at .the street corners, making
the gentlemen catch wildly at their bats,
and fluttering ribbons and veils in the
faces of the ladies.
Jack Frost played coarse practical jokes
upon everybody and everything within his
reach, so that the market boys felt obliged
to run with the turkeys and turnips, blow-
ing the while upon their aching fingers or
rubbing theft smarting ears.
The newsboys, with mufflers and caps
pulled closely down, held their papers
under their arms and their hands in their
pockets, and thrashed one foot against the
other, while they called in cold voices to
the passer-by ; "Paper, air, paper ?"
The heavens were studded with gleam-
ing %tars which blinked merrily down on
the hurrying throng ; and through nn -
curtained windows were glimpses of gay
Christmas trees with happy children claw-
ing around them, and smiling fathers and
mothers looking on.
Holly wreathe hung in profusion and
festoons of evergreen and mistletoe adorn-
ed the walls; and over these happy scenes
played the flickering light of the "yule"
log's glow.
The church bells rang merrily, and the
organ's deep note peeled forth upon the
night winds; lights streamed from the
windows and through the doors as they
swung to and fro, while softly on the lis-
tening ear stole the sound of voices sing-
ing, of "Peace en earth, good will' toward
men,"
But the peace and warmth and glow had
not reached French street, first chimney,
two flights down.
There was a little fire—just enough to
give it the name—but it seemed an empty
title.
The curtain was not drawn—what need
of that ? since the frost had worked so
thick a screen that not even a loving star
could peep in with a happy Christmas
greeting. Mrs. Hill, with an old shawl
over her shouldeas, sat close to the table,
with a dim kerosene lamp beside her.
She was blue with the cold, and her
fingers were so stiff that the needle went
laboriously through the heavy seam. Her
tired eyes filled with tears now and again,
but she dashed them away—every minute
was precious; for if the coat was not finish
ed to -night and taken back there was a
sorry outlook for to -morrow. And the
thought of the empty larder and coal -hod
nerved her to frantic efforts at faster work-
ing ; and when the clock outside told the
hour of eight it sent a colder thrill through
her frame.
Arthur, in spite of the cold, had pulled
off one of his stockings, and was looking
ruefully at a large hole in the toe.
"Look I" he said, holding it up before
his mother, with a comical expression on
his little mottled face.
"0, Arthur, how you do wear your
stockings out 1 I mended them all up last
Satnigh"
"Buturday it cornedt.right through again 1"
and Arthur glanced from the yawning
stocking t,oe to his mother's tired face,
then back again to the stocking.
"Do yon s'pose the presents will some
through ?"
"No, I am afraid they won't," she said,
half bitterly.
Bnt I don't want 'em bo 1" and he look-
ed up with a perplexed expression at his
mother, who was afraid his presents
wouldn't come through.
He examined the hole again, taking its
dimensions by thrusting three fingers
through it and thrusting them apart.
Yes, there was no doubt a good sized toy
could squeeze through the hole.
"Can you mend it, mother P"
"0, Arthur, don't ask me to do any-
thing 1" she answered, fretfully, and
Arthur moved away a little ; for never In
his life before had he heard his mother
speak t.
But tha nextthainstant she reached out her
arm, and snatched him passionately to her
heart.
Arthur, dear, mother is sorry that abe
spoke like that to you," and she kissed the
little cold face, while the tears—so near
the surface—rained over her own face
and his. "I am tired, but that is no rea-
son for my speaking crossly to you ; and
mother will mend the stocking before she
goes to "
Arthurbed.put his arms around her neck.
"You'll have a happy Christmas," he said,
looking up into her face with beaming
eyes ; and her tears started afresh as she
looked at his hopeful face and thought of
the gloomy prospect...
"I wish I could make a fire and warm
you before you go to bed," she said, rub-
bing his blue cheeks with her cold fingers,
"and give you something to eat."
"I ain't much hungry," he answered,
with al
I fibrave nish thissmile. coat in time I shall get
something to eat, and I will wake you up
and give you some," and kissing him she
turned back to her work and began that
weary stitch, stitch.
Arthur hung up his stocking, and, going
back to his mother, pulled the shawl away
a little and kissed her on the neck—a form
of caress which did not interfere with the
needle—and with a bright face opened the
bedroom door and shut himself in. How
cold it was 1 for the door had been shut all
day, that what heat there was might be ,
kept in the kitchen. He would like to
have opened it, for a ray of light from his
mother's dim lamp, but it would make her ,
colder; so he kicked off his shoes, not part-
ing with very much else, for it was too
cold to undress, and jumped into bed and
in a few minutes was fast asleep, dream-
ing, perhaps, of Christmas feastings and
Santa Claus.
rthttr had not been dreaming eamin
g long
whem a low knock startled Mrs. Hill.
What could it mean ? And she trembled
a little as she walked to the door and
opened it.
A kind -faced man with merry blue eyes
was standing there ; he had very fat I
pockets, and, a sled in one hand and a 1
parcel in the other; and Mrs. Hill trembled
more than ever, but from quite another
emotian fear,
Mr• ,tioniorrl,sthexplltined his errand ; and as
he stepped, lite tb'o room there wa.+ a sound t
of other f rotstep'!i in the little entry, but I
he shut tl a doer and unloaded his pockets
and lns parcels down.
My chid 1dren sent those thiugs to. Ar-
DOcember: 20, 189
thur," he said, la+ugh>jnitr a batio .0 fandIR
ante and raisins earn. out in. QQmpaut
with "jumping; Poke iu d picture bpp s.
" I hope Arthur won't be offegded," �asa:
be drew a little dell from the depthagt3
onepetite!,
"My children are Mi girls, and tb$:
youngest one looked po disappointed when
I suggested that a doll was not just the
thing for a boy that I concluded to bring
it along."
Mrs. Hill had hardly spoken ; her eyes
required a good deal of attention, and her
lips had au overmastering tendency to
tremble; Mr. Morris, to relieve her, lookid
as little as possible in her direction.
But finally there was an end to apples
and oranges, toys, strings of popcorn and
candy, and the rest of his errand must be
accomplishd ; so, clearing his throat, and
looding hard at the ceiling, he said :
"My wife thought the nicest thing for
the mother would be a ton of coal and a
barrel of flour."
Poor Mrs. Hill—poor Mr. Morris 1 for it
was almost as trying for one as the other ;
lwalked to the window and examined
If frost -work; it was so thick and fine
that he glanced at the stove next, and then
at the empty woodbox and scuttle. The
table,: with its dim light, rows of spools
and scissors, with the unfinished coat in
the chair, told the story plainly.
Mrs. Hill looked up at last, and tried to
thank him; and Mr. Morris said how happy
they had all been in answering Arthur's
letter; and he looked so happy as he said
it that no one could have doubted him.
Then he opened the door and a man set a
large basket inside and went away direct-
ly.
"I shall see you again, Mrs. Hill, and I
hope you and Arthur will both have a very
merry Christmas. Good -night," and he
had gone before Mrs. Hill could speak.
He went directly to a coal dealer and or-
dered a bag of coal and a basket of wood
sent at once, and did not leave the place
until he had seen them on their way.
j Mrs. Hill was still sitting in the chair
where Mr. Morris had left her when the
heavy step of the men with the coal and
wood, and their loud knock at the door,
roused her from her reverie.
Tho first thing she .did atter they had
gone was to make a rousing fire. How it
• crackled and snapped 1 and she bent over
the stove and rubbed her stiff fingers in
the genial warmth, Then she took Arthur's
stocking, with the yawning toe, and
quickly mended the big toe and put the
toys in. The candy bags and strings of
popcorn she hung around it, and piled the
apples and oranges in a plate on the shelf
above, and stood the shining new sled be-
neath, with the skates, mittens and woolen
scarf hanging over it.
What a fine show it made 1 and how she
longed to catch Arthur out of bed to see
it! but she wanted the room to get warmer
first ; and then there was the basket to be
unpacked.
She folded away the coat—not finished,
but that did not matter now—and smiled
brightly as she picked up her spools and
scissors and thought of the day of rest be-
fore her.
There was everything in that basket—at
least so thought Mrs. Hill. Two pies ; a
loaf of cake ; another of bread ; little
heart -shaped cttkes, sugared' in pink and
white ; a plum pudding ; butter ; tea ; cof-
"DO YOU 8'POSH THE PRESENTS WILL CORR
THROUGH?"
fee ; sugar ; cranberries ; a bag of sweet
potatoes ; a squash ; a turnip ; two glasses
of jelly, and a turkey. The little tabl•
was loaded; it had never groaned beneath
such a weight before.
Mrs. Hill hung the holly wreath, which
had lain on the top of the basket, in the
window ; then opened the bedroom door.
"Arthur," she said softly, bending over
him; but Arthur did not move. She kiss-
ed him on the lips ; ho puckered up his
mouth, opened it and closed it again, with
a deep breath, and was as fast asleep as
ever.
"Arthur, do you want to hear about
Santa Claus P" The sleepy eyes openW
and he rubbed them with his little fists.
"W -h -a -t ?"
"I thought you would like to hear about
Santa Claus ; your presents have come."
Arthur was wide awake—as what boy
would not have been—and sprang out of
bed.
"Didn't he come quick ?" and he stood
in the bedroom door, his eyes still blink-
ing, looking from the chimney to the table,
and from the table back to the chimney,
and then up to his mother's face.
She drew him to the stove, and settling
down took him on her lap.
"I didn't 'spect so much 1" he exclaimed,
finding his tongue at last ; "but ain't it
jolly—jolly 1" and clapping his hands to-
gether he throw his arms so tightly around
his mother's neck that be nearly stopped
her breath and gave her a sounding kiss.
"The stockin's full—an' you mended the
hole I" and be got down on the floor and
peered under it. "It's all sewed up tight!"
Then he pulled down the sled and skates,
tried on the .mittens, wound the scarf
around his neck, soraped acquaintance
with the candy, and took a bite out of the
shining apple.
Words 1 words were weak for the ex-
pression of his satisfaction ; so he danced
up and down the room, and clapped his
hands, and laughed and whistled, and
finally turned a somersault in the in•
tensity of his joy.
Then he and his mother bad their
Christmas supper in the warm room, with
the fire -light shining through the cracks
of the usually grim old stove. And they
talked of this glad evening—for somehow
the bitterness of the beginning had passed
from the mother's mind, and the old carol
which singe that "night is passed" most
fitly expressed the thought of her thank-
ful heart.
"I can see a star 1" Arthur cried, and
sure enough thekrost bad melted a little,
and a star was p ping in ; oh, more than:
one 1 two, three yes, several shining
down on the poor ittle home, as they had
shone, long years r fore, on lonely Judd,
and telling again he old yet ever hew
story of the Chri hild's birth, and o>+
love and peace o rth.--Annie J. #Col&
land In Rousehoi onthly.
ti