UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 00022229107 
 
Stories for the Happy Days 
 of Christmas Time, 
 
 GEO. W. SHINN, D. D. 
 
 New York: 
 THOMAS WHITTAKER, 
 
 Nos a and 3 Bible House. 
 
Copyright, i»79, 
 Br Thomas Whit-take*. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The writer of these stories had been in 
 the habit of making addresses to young peo- 
 ple upon Christmas themes. At length it 
 occurred to him that he could convey the 
 same instruction to them in a much more 
 agreeable way by means of stories, and so 
 for some years past the Christmas story has 
 been one of the features of the Christmas- 
 tide celebrations in our parish. Some of the 
 young people have added to the interest of 
 the stories by illustrating them with tableaux 
 and carols as they have been read aloud at 
 Christmas-tree and other entertainments. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 And now the stories are printed in the 
 hope that they may add to the Christmas 
 joy of other homes, and especially of other 
 gatherings of young folks at Christmas-tide. 
 
 Newton, Mass., 
 Chriitmat, 1919, 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Uncle John's Christmas Party .... 9 
 
 The Tramps' Christmas Eve 33 
 
 The Belated Christmas Guests .... 63 
 
 Robert Bounce's Christmas 83 
 
 How the Crew of the Sea Gull Spent 
 
 Christmas Eve 109 
 
 Aunt Kitty's Christmas Tree .... 123 
 
 Reuben Reubenson's Christmas Eve . . 137 
 
 The Midnight Chimes 157 
 
 Gaining by Losing 173 
 
 Pansy's Preparations for Christmas . .191 
 
 How to Illustrate the Stories .... 205 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://archive.org/details/storiesforhappydOOshin 
 
UNCLE JOHN'S CHRISTMAS PARTY. 
 
y 
 
CHRISTMAS PARTY. 11 
 
 to try. But perhaps if you were to get a 
 look at him you would have a better idea 
 of his appearance than my description can 
 give you. [1. See page 207.] 
 
 Now this odd creature had a sister who 
 was equally odd. 
 
 She was a thin, pinched old body; with 
 very white hair, and a very pale face. 
 
 Her dress was after a style of her own. 
 I could not begin to describe it, only I know 
 its waist was up under her arms and its 
 skirt was very scanty. She had a cap with 
 a great broad frill to it, and wore glasses of 
 the same sort as her brother's, and always 
 carried an umbrella when she went out. But 
 really I can not describe her to you so as to 
 give you any idea how she looked. You 
 should have seen Aunt Susan for yourselves, 
 as her brother and she took a walk together 
 as they used to do, some of the pleasant 
 days at sunset. [2.] 
 
 Now this odd couple lived in a house that 
 was just as quaint as they were. It was 
 long and low and rambling. It had more 
 
12 UNCLE JOHN'S 
 
 than seven gables, nine chimneys, plenty of 
 porches, bird boxes on every peak and under 
 the eaves, and five front doors painted yellow. 
 
 It was not built all at once, but it grew by 
 degrees, just as Uncle John took a fancy to 
 add something to it. No architect would 
 plan a house like it. Perhaps no one would 
 employ an architect to do so, although after 
 all it was a comfortable old place. It stood 
 on a hill and was surrounded by great tall 
 poplar-trees that looked like a line of sen- 
 tinels keeping guard over the place. 
 
 Uncle John's lands were quite extensive. 
 There was a broad meadow, and great fields 
 for grass and grain, and off" to the north side 
 a strip of woods. 
 
 All around the house were the flower gar- 
 dens, where the most amazing hollyhocks, 
 sunflowers, and marigolds bloomed, and great 
 beds of all sorts of fragrant herbs, — thyme, 
 and sweet-marjorum, and sage. Aunt Susan 
 and Uncle John spent a great deal of time 
 in this garden in pleasant weather, and they 
 evidently considered it a marvel of beauty. 
 
CHRISTMAS PARTY. 13 
 
 One of the most notable things about Un- 
 cle John was the wonderful care he took of 
 dumb animals, poor castaways and outcasts 
 that no one else would have about. 
 
 His barns and grounds were a sort of 
 nursery for crippled dogs and old horses. 
 Whenever he came across some poor, mis- 
 erable brute that had a broken leg, or that 
 was injured in any way, he would give it 
 shelter until it got well. Cats that had no 
 home found a refuge in his barns. Old 
 horses that unfeeling owners had turned 
 out on the roadside to die were sure of a 
 good stall and plenty of feed if Uncle John 
 only saw them. The only bother to him 
 was that he could not get rid of these creat- 
 ures when they got better. 
 
 There were as many as a dozen dogs 
 around at one time. The cats no one tried 
 to count, and the horses nearly filled up all 
 the stalls of the barn. Now and then he 
 would get rid of a horse by presenting some 
 poor farmer with one he had doctored up 
 until it was strong enough to do a little 
 
14 UNCLE JOHN'S 
 
 work, but he never gave any of these poor 
 creatures away without first exacting a writ- 
 ten pledge that its new owner would treat 
 it well. 
 
 His sympathy, however, did not confine 
 itself to dumb animals, but his hired help 
 for his farm and his house servants were 
 almost all people whom no one else could get 
 along with. They were deaf, or lame, or had 
 some infirmity of mind or of body that made 
 it hard for them to live with any one, ex- 
 cept Uncle John and Aunt Susan. These 
 two good old people managed to bear with 
 their infirmities and made them happy. 
 
 I want to describe some of the queer peo- 
 ple Uncle John picked up, and employed 
 as helpers. His cook had once been noted 
 throughout all the neighborhood for her bad 
 temper. She could howl like a wildcat, and 
 every body feared her. Uncle John once 
 heard her in one of her stormiest moods, and 
 was not contented until he had transferred 
 her to his own kitchen. She was just the 
 
CHRISTMAS PARTY. 15 
 
 person he wanted there, and by and by she 
 became usually as gentle as a lamb. It was 
 odd though to see her mixture of lamblike 
 gentleness and tiger ferocity. [3.] 
 
 There was old Dickey Diggs, the most 
 stupid old creature that ever wore a hat. 
 He wasn't an idiot. He was only stupid, 
 blundering, forgetful, twisted, absent-minded. 
 He would sometimes lead the wheelbarrow 
 out to the pump to give it a drink, thinking 
 it was a horse. Once he was seen harness- 
 ing himself up in the cart while the sober 
 donkey stood looking on amazed. One day 
 Uncle John sent him to grease the cart 
 wheels, but by some twist or other Dickey 
 forgot what he was sent to do, and placed 
 the grease in the oven, thinking perhaps it 
 was a pudding. [4.] 
 
 The two other servants I Avill describe 
 were twin sisters whom Uncle John discov- 
 ered in one of his visits to a distant city. 
 They were unlike in every particular. One 
 
16 UNCLE JOHN'S 
 
 was tall, the other was short. The motions 
 of the tall one were as quick as the wind, 
 those of the little one were as slow as a 
 enaiL 
 
 Uncle John took a fancy to them because 
 neither of them would be separated from the 
 other, and no one wanted the two as ser- 
 vants, especially as they found it hard to 
 learn any thing. One could not do any 
 thing without the help of tiie other sister. 
 Although so unlike, there was a singular de- 
 pendence of one upon the other which made 
 them inseparable. [5.] 
 
 Now think what a strange household it 
 was when they were all together. [6.] 
 
 When Uncle John went off his own prem- 
 ises, he usually rode on horseback. Where he 
 went, or why he went, no one knew. Some 
 of the folks said that he only went out to 
 see if he could find any old horse adrift, or 
 to intercept any boys who were on their way 
 to the pond to drown a kitten. It was very 
 
CHRISTMAS PARTY. 17 
 
 true that he frequently came back bringing 
 some trophy, some poor creature, human or 
 brute, to be nursed and cared for. 
 
 Every body knew him, and every body 
 laughed as his odd form, mounted on a great 
 awkward horse, came in sight. He was not 
 a very graceful rider, and his favorite horse 
 wasn't a bit graceful. Every one wondered 
 why he did not ride a better beast, one with 
 a gentler gait, that would not bump him up 
 and down as this awkward creature did. 
 But he rather enjoyed it, and so for years 
 the people became accustomed to seeing him 
 perched up on the tall rump of the ugly beast. 
 But they would smile at the ridiculous figure 
 he cut if they saw him twenty times a day. 
 No one could become indifferent to the funny 
 sight. Strangers and residents would turn 
 to look and then would enjoy a laugh at 
 the odd spectacle. Odd enough it was, for 
 the horse beside being very tall was very 
 long, and his gait was utterly indescribable. 
 It was something between a trot and a rolL 
 He got over the ground fast enough, unless 
 2 
 
18 UNCLE JOHN'S 
 
 he took a notion to stop and graze along 
 the roadside when he espied some espe- 
 cially sweet-looking grass. On these occa- 
 sions, and they were pretty frequent, Uncle 
 John would patiently wait until the beast 
 was ready to go on again. Every stream 
 they crossed, the horse must stop for a drink, 
 and he took such an enormous quantity 
 of water you would have thought he must 
 surely burst. 
 
 Now Uncle John, with all of his queer 
 fancies and odd surroundings, was the rich- 
 est man in the county. None of his wealth 
 had come to him by inheritance. He had 
 earned it all by his own hard work, and 
 Aunt Susan, his sister, had saved it carefully 
 for him. 
 
 He had not lived very long in the vil- 
 lage of Elms when I became acquainted 
 with him. He had come there from a dis- 
 tant city, a retired tea merchant, to spend 
 the rest of his days, according to his own 
 tastes, or in carrying out some notions of 
 his own. 
 
CHRISTMAS TARTY. 19 
 
 The people soon learned to like the dear 
 old man and his sister, and though their 
 appearance always made mirth, no one ever 
 was rude to them. The beggars found out 
 his generous spirit, and not one of them ever 
 went hungry from his doors. There were no 
 "tramps" in those days. 
 
 Well, Uncle John soon became the good 
 friend of every body for miles around, and 
 not a man or boy but would return pleas- 
 antly the hearty salutation which he had 
 for them all when he met them. 
 
 Week by week he and his sister would 
 be seen going to the little chapel in the 
 village, and none were more devout in their 
 worship, or more respectful hearers than they. 
 It is true their solemn march up the side 
 aisle in their queer garments would always 
 make people smile, but then no one would 
 have given them offence for a great deal. 
 It is also true that Uncle John's voice did 
 not improve the singing any for he would 
 always sing in such sepulchral bass tones 
 that they seemed to come up from the cellar. 
 
20 UNCLE JOHN'S 
 
 However, every body said he was a good 
 man, and they would not worry him by check- 
 ing his attempts to be musical. 
 
 Well, one Christmas time about five years 
 after Unci/ John and Aunt Susan came to 
 live in our village, every one of the villagers 
 was surprised to receive an invitation to a 
 Christmas party which was to be given by 
 Uncle John at his house, on the next night 
 after Christmas. There was a great stir, and 
 of course much wondering as to what would 
 be done, and how they would enjoy them- 
 selves, and how it would all end. But near- 
 ly every one concluded to go anyhow ; and, as 
 it grew dark on the day after Christmas, peo- 
 ple were seen going in all directions towards 
 Uncle John's house. The wonder is how the 
 house could hold so many, but it was a great 
 rambling building, and he had had carpen- 
 ters at work for months past at some mys- 
 terious extensions of which no one could 
 guess the use. It was very unlike an or- 
 dinary house, for as they passed to the 
 
CHRISTMAS PARTY. 21 
 
 upper fluor to lay aside their hats and wrap- 
 pings they saw great long rooms with rows 
 of little beds, and right in the middle was 
 one room fitted up with benches, for all the 
 world like a chapel. 
 
 Uncle John received his guests in the great 
 parlor down-stairs, and made them feel at 
 home at once by his lively, jolly, whole-souled 
 welcome. Great fires were blazing on the 
 hearths, and beneath the influence of the 
 host and the genial warmth of the fires all 
 began to feel very comfortable, but now and 
 then a strange hush was evident, as if all 
 expected some odd denouement of this unu- 
 sual party. But as games and music were 
 introduced, and supper was served, they be- 
 gan to conclude it was only a party and 
 that Uncle John was trying to be neigh- 
 borly in his way. Towards nine o'clock, 
 however, there was a bustle caused by the 
 arrival of two strangers, both wrapped in 
 great overcoats and shawls as if they had 
 ridden far that cold night. 
 
 Uncle John met them at the door and drew 
 
22 UNCLE JOHN'S 
 
 them in. That one must be a lawyer some 
 one whispered. See the green bag he car- 
 ries. Yes, he was a lawyer, but such a queer 
 looking lawyer. Where did Uncle John find 
 him ? [7.] 
 
 The other one of these strangers certainly 
 must be a doctor. 
 
 Here he comes with his box of surgical 
 instruments and his phials of medicines. [8.] 
 
 Uncle John led the two strangers off to 
 give them some refreshments, and the vil- 
 lage people went on with their games and 
 plays and talk, though much wondering why 
 these strangers had come and who they were. 
 
 In the course of half an hour or so, Dickey 
 Diggs appeared, evidently charged with some 
 message to the guests, but he had forgotten 
 it, and had to go back to see what he had 
 been sent to say. When he came back, it 
 was with the request that Uncle John want- 
 ed every body to go down-stairs; but while 
 they wondered at this strange request, Uncle 
 
CHRISTMAS. PARTY. 23 
 
 John himself appeared, and told them they 
 were to come up-stairs, and not to go to the 
 cellar. Of course there was a laugh at poor 
 Dickey's blunder, but they all mounted the 
 stairs sure now that the interest of the even- 
 ing was approaching its highest point what- 
 ever it might be, but no one could guess 
 what it was. 
 
 They found the rooms up-stairs brilliantly 
 lighted, and as many as could be seated were 
 asked to occupy the benches in the middle 
 room, while the others sat on chairs and on 
 the little beds in the rooms to the right and 
 the left which opened into the main room by 
 folding doors. 
 
 Occupying chairs at the upper end of the 
 main room were Uncle John and the two 
 strangers. 
 
 Now if you will imagine that we are the 
 villagers seated in these queer upper rooms 
 of the old building, we will try to look at the 
 group in the upper end of the main room as 
 it appeared when all things were ready. [9.] 
 
24 uncle John's 
 
 When all had become quiet, Uncle John 
 arose, and this is what he said: — 
 
 " My friends, I know I am an odd old fel- 
 low, and have odd ways of doing things; but 
 if I can't do things in my own way, I am like 
 all the rest of the world, — I think they are not 
 well done. You are all wondering why this 
 house is fixed up as it is, and what is to be 
 done with it. Before I tell you that, I must 
 tell you a story. 
 
 " Many a long year ago, when Susan and I 
 were children, we had a little sister. We 
 three were poor neglected orphans, turned 
 out into the world at the death of our parents 
 to seek our own living. 
 
 " The only thing we had as we thus went 
 out, beside the scanty clothing we wore, 
 was a poor old crippled dog. He clung to 
 us. He had been our pet, and we could not 
 turn him away. Neither would he desert 
 us, but in all of our wanderings he was 
 with us. 
 
 " I will not describe all the sad experiences 
 of the months and months of our poverty, — 
 
CHRISTMAS PARTY. 25 
 
 how we sought work and failed to find it, 
 how we begged from door to door, until at 
 length, to make our sorrows still worse, my 
 little sister was run over in the street by a 
 heavy team, and was an invalid for the rest 
 of her life. But her misfortune brought us 
 friends. I found a place in a store and Susan 
 in a good family, and little Margery was car- 
 ried to a hospital. 
 
 " By and by we found lodgings with a re- 
 spectable family, and my wages grew grad- 
 ually better, until we could furnish a room 
 or two. 
 
 " Day by day was my toil lightened by the 
 thought of spending the long evenings at 
 home with my sisters. Margery was just 
 able to make her way about the room upon 
 her crutches, but her sunny smile never failed 
 her. The sunshine of heaven seemed ever to 
 rest upon her, and she seemed to me to have 
 the halo around her head before she reached 
 the land of brightness. Our old dog was 
 with us, and had his place by the fireside. 
 He was my sister's friend and pet. Although 
 
26 UNCLE JOHN'S 
 
 old and crippled, we could not turn him off, 
 nor did we wish to do so. 
 
 " Ah, how well do I remember those years, 
 — as steadily rising in business I was able to 
 add to our invalid sister's comfort, and smooth 
 her decline. But she faded away before our 
 eyes, and the night after our most happy 
 Christmas Day we found her dead in her 
 chair, and the old dog at her feet. She had 
 gone quietly to her rest, and her dumb com- 
 panion had ceased to live when he found his 
 mistress was gone." 
 
 Here the old man paused in his story, and 
 the sobs of his hearers prevented his going 
 on for some minutes, but he presently re- 
 sumed, and said — 
 
 "This was years ago, and I was a young 
 man then. Now I am old, and have not 
 many years to live ere I shall join her in a 
 better land. Her memory has ever been with 
 me, and I have seen her face in every suf- 
 ferer I have met. Yes, you have often won- 
 dered at my strange fancy for poor dumb 
 animals, but 1 have ever remembered her 
 
CHRISTMAS PARTY. 27 
 
 love for the old dog Jack who was our friend 
 in our poverty. 
 
 "And now that wealth has been given 
 me, I am going to devote it to the ser- 
 vice of the dear Christ in befriending his 
 little ones. This building in which you are 
 now met is to be a Children's Hospital. Here 
 is the chapel where they will be taught to love 
 the Saviour, there are the beds where they 
 will sleep. The rooms down -stairs where 
 you first assembled are for the other pur- 
 poses of the little folks when well enough 
 to be about and to play. And here is the 
 doctor who is to take charge of the hospital, 
 and, if God will, make them well." 
 
 At this point the doctor seated by Uncle 
 John arose and bowed to the audience. 
 Then when he was seated the old gentle- 
 man went on — 
 
 "And now I have asked my lawyer to 
 come here to-night to read the deed of gift, 
 and the plan of this charity which in your 
 presence to-night is thus formally opened.' 
 
 Here the other gentleman arose, and, open- 
 
28 UNCLE JOHN'S 
 
 ing the bag which he carried, read out a 
 long and dry legal document, in which it 
 was recited that John Marcon of such a 
 place and of such a county, for the purpose 
 of founding a hospital for children to be 
 known as " The Margery Marcon Hospital " 
 did give to such and such a board of trus- 
 tees, the house and grounds in such a place, 
 and beside, the sum of a great many thou- 
 sands of dollars, to be by them and their 
 successors held in trust, &c. 
 
 It was a very formal document, and al- 
 most formidable from the number of its legal 
 terms, but its drift was comprehended after 
 the lawyer had made a few explanations, and 
 then what a shout arose from young and 
 old ! Why it was fortunate that there were 
 no sick children there yet. And then, when 
 the noise had subsided, there was such a 
 rush to shake Uncle John's hand ! The hap- 
 piness of that moment would have repaid 
 him for the good deed, but he had with him 
 the thought that somehow the soul of the 
 departed sister was rejoicing in Paradise 
 
CHRISTMAS PARTY. 29 
 
 over what he had done. Certain it was 
 that the good Christ saw it, and that was 
 reward enough. 
 
 And now many years have passed since 
 that Christmas time, and the little white 
 beds are full of children who have been 
 brought to the Margery Marcon Hospital 
 to be made well; but in two white beds, — 
 yes, under the snow, — the bodies of Uncle 
 John and Aunt Susan are sleeping the sleep 
 from which they will never awaken till tLey 
 hear the trumpet of the archangel at the last 
 great day. 
 
THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE 
 

THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 :>XK° 
 
 EARLY a year before the Christmas 
 Eve of which I am to tell you, the 
 home of Farmer Warren was made 
 very sad by the departure of his 
 son William. Perhaps the boy was very 
 foolish to go away as he did, but the dis- 
 appointment he felt at being rejected by the 
 girl whom he had loved ever since she rame 
 as a little stranger to his father's house, was 
 so bitter that he hastily tore himself away 
 from his old home, and from the day he left 
 only one message had been received from 
 him, and that was a brief letter stating that 
 he was trying to forget his sorrow by v» ork- 
 ing in the silver mines of Nevada. Fta was 
 
34 THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 very foolish for going away, for the orphan. 
 Mary Louise, had refused him only becauso 
 she was afraid his parents would object to 
 his marrying one who came to them a poor 
 parentless child from the almshouse of a 
 great city. 
 
 She did not know then how she had grown 
 into their hearts, and that they had long 
 regarded her as their daughter, and would be 
 glad indeed to see her become their son's 
 wife. 
 
 But she, poor little soul, thought only of 
 herself as an orphan of whose parentage no 
 one knew any thing, not even the keepers of 
 the almshouse where she had been left one 
 winter's night by some stranger. All the 
 information given about her was a note writ- 
 ten in a scrawling hand containing these 
 words: "This here baby ain't got no father 
 and no mother. Both of 'em is ded." 
 
 The keeper of the almshouse took the baby 
 in, and she was christened Mary Louise, after 
 the name of his wife, and as no one knew 
 her family name, the Mary stood for the 
 
THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 35 
 
 Christian name, and Louise had to serve for 
 the family name. 
 
 She stayed at the almshouse until she was 
 eight years old, when Farmer Warren, think- 
 ing his wife ought to have some one to wait 
 on her a little, drove up one day, was pleased 
 with the sweet, innocent face of the little 
 girl, and took her to his home. There she 
 grew up and ripened into a beautiful young 
 woman, graceful, active, and intelligent. She 
 had made good use of all her advantages, 
 and, although her position was nominally 
 that of a servant in the family, she was treat- 
 ed as a daughter, and well repaid the affec- 
 tion of the old couple whose wants she so 
 carefully looked after. As time went on, she 
 grew to be the main-stay of the house. Her 
 busy brain and active fingers gave shape to 
 all the details of the great farmhouse, and 
 her cheery voice directed the labor of the 
 servants that were employed. 
 
 It was amazing how one so young could 
 do so much, and the old farmer used to de- 
 clare that her muscles were made of steel, 
 
36 THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 and her brain was equal to managing a 
 colony. 
 
 How bright and happy she made that old 
 farmhouse, and how the old folks leaned 
 upon her for support as they felt themselves 
 tottering down the other side of the hill of 
 time ! 
 
 All this pleasant state of things might 
 have gone on no one knows how much long- 
 er if she had not refused to become William 
 Warren's wife. And she never would have 
 refused him if she had not been afraid of 
 bringing disgrace upon him by letting him 
 marry one who did not know even the name 
 of her parents, and who had spent seven 
 years of her life in an almshouse. There is 
 where she made her mistake, for no one 
 cared who her parents were, nor where she 
 had spent her baby days. It was enough 
 lor them all to know that she was now a 
 noble woman. 
 
 But she said " no " to William, and he took 
 it as her final answer, and left his home. 
 
 How changed that home became after h« 
 
THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 37 
 
 went away ! The brightness died out of hia 
 father's face, and the poor old mother grew 
 more feeble day by day. The farm work did 
 not go on well without him, and he Avas ter 
 ribly missed every hour. 
 
 Old Mr. Warren tried every plan to hear 
 something more from his son. He wrote in 
 all directions to the mines of the Pacific, but 
 no word came, and now it was nearly a year 
 since "William went away. Yes, nearly a 
 whole sad year, for he had gone the day 
 following the last Christmas, and it was now 
 almost Christmas again. 
 
 We look in upon them as the three sat in 
 the living room of the old farmhouse two 
 nights before Christmas. [1.] 
 
 The old people are at opposite sides of the 
 fireplace where the logs are burning, both 
 wrapped in their own gloomy thoughts, and 
 Mary is seated at a table, busy with some 
 sewing, but now and then the great tears 
 blind her eyes and the work falls down into 
 her lap. 
 
38 THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 The silence which has lasted long is bro- 
 ken by the old man, who says: 
 
 "Mary, what shall we do about this here 
 merry-making that they want to have in 
 our kitchen to-morrow night ? You know 
 to-morrow is Christmas Eve, and Betty says 
 they want to keep up the old ways of havin 
 some of the folks come in just as they used 
 to do." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Warren," she replies, " why do 
 you ask me ! I feel as if I could never be 
 merry again. I don't know what to say. 
 I-'ll do any thing you think is right, but I've 
 no heart for mirth." 
 
 "Well, well, poor girl, I know ye is sad; 
 but you're the manager since mother and I 
 is gettin' old, and I consult ye about every 
 thin'. I don't know how to refuse the folks 
 what they've asked, but I'd rather they 
 wouldn't have it. Howsomever, I s'pose it 
 ain't right for us to deprive 'em of the chance 
 of havin' a pleasant evenin', but I wish — 
 Oh ! I wish my boy was here ! " 
 
 And here the old man broke down and 
 
THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 39 
 
 wept, and the good wife moaned in sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 For a long time after no words were spo- 
 ken, all were busy with their own thoughts, 
 but there came a knock at the door and 
 roused them. Presently there entered a dep- 
 utation to ask the accustomed privilege of 
 a Christmas jollification in the kitchen. [2.] 
 
 Nothing could exceed the awkwardness of 
 the three who stood grinning and bowing, 
 and mustering up courage to present the 
 petition which had been drawn up on a 
 paper. 
 
 It was a written petition which Jonas 
 Green, the man of all work, who was some- 
 thing of a poet, or who thought he was, had 
 spent the whole evening in writing. 
 
 Like many another, Jonas was immensely 
 pleased with his own productions, but having 
 a high voice and defective eyesight, he was 
 not a very impressive reader, but he thought 
 he was. With him came Betty, — mischiev- 
 ous, fun-loving Betty, — who had flattered the 
 poet, and made him think his verses ranked 
 
40 THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 with those of the poets in the old school- 
 book which Jonas thumbed so industriously. 
 
 Poor Jonas drank in with great greedi- 
 ness the flattery — and as one had described 
 the poet as rolling his eyes in fine frenzy, 
 so Jonas tried to roll his, but they were too 
 weak to roll much, and when he did roll 
 them, the effect back of the queer pair of 
 spectacles he wore was ludicrous enough. 
 
 The other member of the kitchen com- 
 mittee was Michael. Good, honest, blunder- 
 ing old Michael, from the sod of Erin, a gen- 
 uine Irishman, warm-hearted and faithful. 
 
 You could not mistake him for any one 
 else than a Hibernian, so broad was the 
 brogue, and so marked was his appearance. 
 And now these three stood before Mr. War- 
 ren to secure his consent to having the usual 
 frolic in the kitchen on Christinas Eve. 
 
 " Well, Jonas, what now ? " asked Mr. 
 Warren, and then the poet unfolded the 
 paper in his hand, and began to read. 
 
THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 41 
 
 "Illustrious and wennerrable farmer, 
 The day arter to-morrer 
 
 Is called Christmas Day. 
 Now Christmas comes but once a year, 
 And we most humbly do appear 
 
 To ax you if we may 
 On Christmas Eve together in 
 Your great big, great big, kitchyin 
 
 Our friends invite 
 To spend a socyal hour or two 
 In doin' as we've youst for to do 
 
 On that air night. 
 A little corn We'll pop 
 And then perhaps we'll stop 
 
 And tayles and stories tell, 
 With games and plays and songs 
 The moments roll along 
 
 And all end well." 
 
 The manner in which Jonas delivered 
 these lines was so irresistibly comic that 
 the hearts that had been so sad before now 
 grew merry, and impulsively the old farmer 
 spoke up and said, " Yes, yes, my man, have 
 just as good a time as you can, and joy be 
 with you always." 
 
 Then Jonas and Betty and Michael, the dep- 
 
42 THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 utation, withdrew, but they had for the time 
 driven away all sad thoughts from the minds 
 of the three by the fireside, and the talk that 
 lasted till bedtime was more cheerful than 
 it had been, until at length the old mother 
 said, "I did not say any thing while you 
 and Mary was talkin', but somehow I've had 
 a feelin' comin' over me that things will be 
 better for us than they has bin. Suthin' tells 
 me that William won't allers stay away from 
 us. He knows we two is gettin' old, and I 
 expect to see him ag'in afore I die." Her 
 hopeful words gave hope to the other two, 
 and they went to their rest feeling as they 
 had not felt in a long time before, and from 
 three hearts there went up very fervent 
 prayer for the absent one. 
 
 What an uproarious time they had in that 
 old kitchen on Christmas Eve ! There were 
 Jonas and Betty and Michael, and five of 
 their friends, and they made the old kitchen 
 ring with their laughter as they sat around 
 the fire popping corn and telling stories. [3.] 
 
THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 43 
 
 How easy it is for people upon a winter's 
 night, as the wind goes howling by, to drift 
 into telling ghost stories; and so these folks 
 before they knew it were fairly absorbed in 
 the details of one of Michael's most frightful 
 yarns. Michael was a famous story teller. 
 In fact, he was so fond of relating his weird 
 Irish tales that he would lean on his plough 
 handle, or stop his team at any time, to cur- 
 dle up some one's blood with one of his 
 strange yarns that he had heard in the old 
 country. 
 
 Now as he told his story this Christmas 
 Eve, the circle drew their chairs closer and 
 closer together as if to protect each other, 
 should one of Michael's Avonderful ghosts 
 glide in upon them. It was a strange yarn 
 that he was spinning, full of contradictions 
 and absurdities. It ran somehow thus: 
 
 "Ghosts, is it ye is talkin' about? Sure 
 an' it's in the ould counthree that there is 
 many a ghost. In the ould castles and inns 
 there is many of 'era. 
 
 " I've never been after seein' any of 'em 
 
44 THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 myself, but I've seen people that has heard 
 'em. 
 
 "Now there's Bridget Marooney, my own 
 eister's husband's cousin, she that married 
 Bryan O'Kourke, sure now Bridget has been 
 tellin' me many's the time that the ould inn 
 with the sign of the stag's head had a ghost 
 in its best room where the ould furniture 
 was that onst belonged to the castle. No- 
 body ever seed the ghost that used to come 
 there, but many's the thraveller that's been 
 wakened up in the middle of the night by a 
 bangin' at the windy and an awful groanin'. 
 
 " It's thrue enough that one thraveller got 
 up when he heard the bangin' and said it 
 was nothin' but the limb of the ould tree 
 that would strike the windy shutter when 
 the wind blowed. But shure no one be- 
 lieved him; for if an ould room in an ould 
 inn with ould furniture that's been in a 
 castle ain't the place for a ghost, where 
 would yes expect a ghost to be? It's ould 
 inns that ghosts loves to live in, and Bridget 
 Marooney often heard the bangin' and the 
 
THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 45 
 
 groanin' when she went into that room to 
 swape it up ; and Bridget Marooney is a 
 girrel that tells the truth, barrin' the times 
 that she takes a dhrop of the crayter from 
 the flask of whiskey that some thraveller has 
 forgotten to take away with him in the 
 mornin'. 
 
 "'Bridget,' says I, 'now tell me sure an' 
 what did ye hear in the ould room ? ' An 
 she says, says she, 'I heard the bangin' at 
 the windy, and an awful groanin' as if some- 
 body was bein' killed.' 'And where was the 
 groanin'?' says I. 'Why,' she says, says she, 
 ' it seemed to be in the ould chimbly.' 
 
 " But the thraveller that said the bangin' 
 was made by the wind blowin' the limbs 
 of the tree ag'in the windy said that the 
 groanin' was made by the wind down the 
 chimbly, — but how can the wind groan? 
 The wind ain't got feelin' like a human 
 bein'. The wind don't get hurted and cry 
 out. 
 
 "You see, Bridget is a wonderful woman, 
 if I do say so that thinks of p-oin' back to 
 
46 THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 Ireland and marryin' her if she will make 
 up her mind to give up touchin' the whiskey. 
 But I'm afeard she likes a dhrop of the cray- 
 ter too well to give it up, and she has a way 
 of throwin' things around when she gets mad 
 that used to make me afeard of her. But 
 for all o' that she's a wonderful woman, and 
 she can argy with the praist, and nobody 
 can make her believe that a limb of a tree 
 can bang like that ag'in a windy, and that 
 the wind can groan down a chimbly like a 
 human bein'. 
 
 "An' all the neighbors says the raysan that 
 room is haunted is because the ould miser 
 that used to live in it was a thafe, and some 
 bigger thafe stold his money and he died 
 from the loss of it. And now he comes 
 back ag'in, a-lookin' fur it, and beatin' his 
 Lead ag'in the walls of the house, and groan- 
 in' because he can't find it where he used to 
 count it all out, the bright pieces of gould 
 and siller, in the big chist by the side of 
 his bed. The mane heretic, Dennis M'Dade, 
 used for to say that he didn't know what the 
 
THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 47 
 
 ould miser's ghost wanted with his money 
 anyhow. But what did such a heretic as 
 Dennis know about the wants of a ghost? 
 
 "Sure an' he might be seekin' for it to dis- 
 tribute it among the desarviu' females sech 
 as Bridget, that they could make good use 
 of it to build a mansion and buy a patch of 
 praity land, and marry sech as me that would 
 make 'em good husbands. 
 
 " For sure if Bridget had the ould man's 
 money, I could forgive her the offence of 
 throwin' things around when she had been 
 drinkin' too much of the crayter. 
 
 "Sure an' then I'd be one of the gintry, an 
 would ride around in me coach with a fut- 
 man standin' up at the back of me lady 
 and me." 
 
 How accurately then Michael went on to 
 describe the experiences of certain travellers 
 who had been kept awake all night long by 
 this fearful whack, whack, whack, against 
 the window ! And to give greater effect to 
 his story just then Michael said, 
 
 "It was a noise jest like this now," and 
 
48 THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 he pounded against the side of the kitchen 
 table. 
 
 Just as he had finished, there came three 
 rousing whacks at the kitchen door. Terror 
 seized upon all the party, for they thought 
 at once that a ghost had come, so full had 
 their minds been of Michael's story, and they 
 started up all trembling. Their hair seemed 
 to stand on end, their knees shook together. 
 They looked at each other in blank astonish- 
 ment, and then the three great raps came 
 again, and a voice outside called, " Open 
 vour door. Let us in, can't you ? " The 
 voice was not ghostlike, but heavy and 
 gruff. It drove away their thoughts of 
 ghosts, and made them see how foolish 
 they were to be so frightened. 
 
 For awhile, however, no one would open 
 the door, but finally Jonas drew the bolt, 
 and in stepped two of the most tattered, dil- 
 apidated individuals you ever saw. [4.] 
 
 They were all in rags, and their faces Avere 
 covered with a great growth of beard. No 
 sooner had they steDned in than Betty whie- 
 
THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 49 
 
 pered, " they're tramps. We'll all be kihed." 
 And at once the company was filled with 
 greater terror than before, for a living tramp 
 had grown to be an object of more fear than 
 a dead ghost. 
 
 What a commotion there was in the kitch- 
 en: the women screaming, the men spring- 
 ing for any article that would serve as a 
 weapon in case the tramps proved trouble- 
 some; but they did not look as if they would 
 be troublesome at all, for there they stood 
 laughing and enjoying the commotion they 
 had created. 
 
 It would be hard to describe the appear- 
 ance of these two men. They were the most 
 disreputable looking of all the tramp species. 
 Each had a bundle over his shoulder on a 
 stick, and they wore hats that had evidently 
 gone on from bad to worse until they could 
 not be any worse. 
 
 Well, there these two strangers stood, en- 
 ioying the terror of the others, until at 
 length Betty, who seemed to be more cour- 
 ageous than the rest, spoke up, " Well, now 
 4 
 
50 THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 that you've gin us a good skeer — what do 
 ye want?" 
 
 " Shelter from the cold," replied one ; 
 " we've travelled far to-day and are tired 
 and cold. Let us sit down by your fire. 
 We're harmless fellows. We don't want to 
 hurt any one. It's an awful night outside, 
 and it seems warm and pleasant here. Will 
 you let us stay awhile?" 
 
 Permission was very unwillingly granted, 
 but it seemed too cruel to turn them out into 
 the winter's storm, and so they stayed. 
 
 The strangers had an easy way of making 
 themselves at home. They slung their bun- 
 dles into a corner, put their hats under their 
 chairs, and found the warmest seats by the 
 fire. It was some time, however, before the 
 merry-makers in the kitchen could dismiss 
 their fears of the two strange guests, but 
 by the time these dilapidated travellers had 
 eaten with great relish some slices of ginger- 
 bread that Betty had brought out, the dread 
 of them had gone, and the strangers pro- 
 ceeded in their way to make themselves 
 
THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 51 
 
 agreeable. This they did by telling stories 
 of their adventures; thrilling stories they 
 were, not quite so startling as Michaels 
 ghost stories, but so fascinating that the 
 company drew closer around them and lis- 
 tened with rapt attention. 
 
 One of the stories told that night was — 
 
 THE PASSAGE OF THE LONG DARK TUNNEL. 
 
 It ran about like this: — 
 
 "Yes, I've had many strange adventures 
 in my time,' but the one that frightened me 
 most of all was when I tried to pass through 
 the long dark tunnel at night. It was a 
 short cut from the main road to the village, 
 and was shorter by nearly a mile than the 
 usual way. 
 
 " I knew it was dangerous, but I was in a 
 hurry, and thought I would try it, so I en« 
 tered the mouth of the long dark passage, 
 and trudged on. It was dripping with wa- 
 ter, and smelled horribly. I stumbled over 
 the cross-ties, and once I fell down flat, but 
 these were small troubles compared with 
 
52 THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 what was to come; for after I had got about 
 half way through I heard the screech of the 
 engine coming in at the other end, and soon 
 I saw the light like the great mocking eye 
 of an advancing monster. Well, I can't tell 
 you how I felt, or how fast the thoughts 
 went through my brain. It seemed an age 
 while I stood there watching that rapidly 
 approaching light, and listening to the thun- 
 dering of the train as it came on and on. I 
 had no other expectation than that of being 
 killed. It seemed impossible to escape an 
 awful death. I could not hope to squeeze 
 myself near enough to the walls of the tun- 
 nel, and of course I could not stop the train. 
 For awhile I stood fascinated, unable to stir 
 hand or foot, but as the train came rattling 
 on I could not endure the sight of that great 
 mocking eye, and so I dashed myself down 
 flat on my face on the ground. 
 
 " I held my breath and waited for the aw- 
 ful blow that would end my life, and then I 
 lost all consciousness. How long I stayed 
 there flat in the black puddle of water where 
 
THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 53 
 
 I had fallen, I knew not, but when my senses 
 came back to me the train had passed and I 
 was safe. Yes, safe; for, in falling down, I 
 had fallen between the double tracks in a 
 place worn away by a stream that had 
 washed a passage for itself, and so I escaped. 
 A few inches to the right or left, and I would 
 not have been here to-day to tell the tale." 
 
 One story led on to another, and each 
 story grew more exciting than the last, but 
 after awhile there was a pause, during which 
 the younger of the two strangers glancing 
 up saw over the kitchen fireplace a violin, 
 and took it down and began to tune it. 
 When they found he could play, they were 
 urgent that he should play them a tune, and 
 he willingly complied; but such a comical 
 figure did he cut as he sawed away with the 
 bow on the old violin, that they laughed un- 
 til the tears rolled down their cheeks. Pres- 
 ently it was proposed by Betty that they 
 should have a dance, and they arranged 
 themselves lor an old Virginia reel. 
 
54 THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 The fiddler sat perched upon a flour bar^ 
 rel on one side, and the other stranger took 
 his place in the line for the dance. 
 
 And now the fun grew uproarious, for 
 never were there such jolly dancers as these. 
 Their' bodies swayed back and forth. They 
 swung their arms, and frisked about as if 
 they were possessed. It is hard to describe 
 the mirth that came into that old kitchen, as 
 the merry dancers went through the figures 
 of the reel. 
 
 In the midst of the uproar, old Farmer 
 Warren and his wife and Mary, attracted 
 by the noise, came in to look on at the jol- 
 lification. [5.] 
 
 As they came in, there was a rapid change 
 in the conduct of the strangers, and the fid- 
 dler became embarrassed and lost the tune. 
 The dance stopped. All eyes were turned 
 upon the two tramps, who had drawn close 
 together. There was a pause, a dead silence 
 for a few minutes, when the old farmer said, 
 "Go on, my friends, go on; don't stop. Let 
 me too enjoy vour happiness." 
 
THE TRAMPS CHRISTMAS EVE. 55 
 
 But the strangers stood still, side by side, 
 and then, turning to each other, began the 
 strangest sort of performance. The larger 
 of the two started to run for the door, but 
 the other caught him, and then began a scuf- 
 fle. And, to the surprise of every one, off 
 came the wigs that they had worn. 
 
 In an instant there was a scream from 
 Mary. " It's William," she said, and she 
 caught him by the arms. 
 
 Sure enough it was William; come home 
 again after the long year's absence, — come 
 home in this strange disguise on Christmas 
 Eve, — come home to stay. 
 
 But why such a strange return? Why 
 in disguise at all? Why with such an odd 
 companion ? 
 
 Motioning to them all to be seated, he 
 told his story, and this is how it ran: — 
 
 " You all know why I went away. I felt 
 that I could not stay here another day, and 
 so I resolved that I would try to forget my 
 bitter disappointment among new scenes and 
 with new surroundings. I made my way to 
 
56 THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 the great West, and finally to the mines of 
 Nevada. I cared very little to make money, 
 but wanted to forget my trouble in active 
 employment. I had not been long in the 
 mines before a dreadful accident happened, — 
 the earth caved in and I was saved from 
 death only by the efforts of this my friend, 
 John Wallace. 
 
 " From that day there sprang up a strong 
 affection between us, and I told him my 
 story and he told me his. Well, the result 
 was that he persuaded me to come home 
 again, and we made our way by slow de- 
 grees, seeing what we could as we came 
 along, and timed our return so as to reach 
 here on Christmas Eve. I can not tell you 
 how deep were my emotions upon nearing 
 my home. So when we got to the village, 
 we concluded to disguise ourselves, and what 
 you see upon us, these rags and tatters, we 
 bought at an old shop, and came here so 
 changed that I knew no one would know 
 me. I wanted to get into the old house once 
 more, and finding the kitchen lighted up, we 
 
THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 57 
 
 entered and have tried to add to the enter- 
 tainment of Betty and her friends. 
 
 " When you, father and mother and Mary, 
 came in, my courage failed me, and I tried 
 to run away, but my friend John stopped 
 me as you know, and kept me here, and 
 now here I am. The welcome Mary has 
 given me shows me how foolish I was to 
 have gone away at first, and your letter 
 which reached me only two mouths ago, 
 just before I concluded to return, explains 
 why she said that cruel "no." I am sure 
 she will change her mind, — yes, that she has 
 changed it, and all will be well, — especially 
 after she hears another story which John 
 Wallace is now ready to tell you." 
 
 And now all eyes were turned to the other 
 stranger, the fiddler, and this is what he 
 6aid : — 
 
 "I'm an old sailor. I've sailed from port 
 to port these many years. I married Kose 
 Murray in England, and left her money to 
 cross the ocean in a steamer to join me 
 
58 THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 in New York, for there our vessel was to 
 sail. 
 
 '* I never saw her again, for the vessel in 
 which I sailed was lost at sea, and I was 
 rescued by a brig bound on a whaling voy- 
 age of four years in the South Pacific. 
 
 " When I came back to New York at the 
 end of the four years, I found that Rose had 
 landed there from the steamer, and had gone 
 to the people where I had engaged a place 
 for her; but after the birth of her little girl 
 she heard of the loss of the vessel in which 
 I had sailed, and thought me dead; her heart 
 was broken and she died. 
 
 " So the people where she boarded carried 
 the little one to an almshouse, but no one 
 could tell me where, for Rose's friends had 
 moved far away to the West. At last I 
 found them and learned the place. Then 
 when I went to it to see her, she had been 
 taken away by a farmer, they said — a farm- 
 er named Warren, but the record was lost 
 and they knew not where he lived. [6.] 
 
 '■ And so for many years 1 searched for my 
 
THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 59 
 
 daughter, and had begun to think I could 
 never find her, when I met William in the 
 mines, and found that my daughter was safe 
 in his father's house. I persuaded him to 
 return, and here we are. It was his plan to 
 assume this disguise, for wise as he is .upon 
 all other matters, his head was well nigh 
 turned because he was afraid he would not 
 be welcomed by the one who once refused 
 to become his wife. 
 
 "Mary, you will not disgrace him, for you 
 are an honest sailor's daughter, and your 
 mother was a jewel. 
 
 "And this is my daughter," continued he, 
 "my daughter whom I never saw before to- 
 night, but she is her mother's very image. 
 Her eyes, her hair, her face, just as eighteen 
 years ago I married her in the old home 
 where we were children together. 
 
 "Mary, thank God I've found you! Often 
 and often I've been ready to despair, but 
 now I've found you, and the Lord be 
 praised ! " 
 
 "Aye," s?id the old farmer, "aye, the 
 
f>0 THE TRAMPS' CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 Lord be praised who has brought so much 
 joy to us this Christmas Eve. He has sent 
 me back my boy, and he has helped you 
 in this strange way to find your daughter. 
 And perhaps he has permitted us to have 
 this strange experience of joy to-night that 
 we may all the better on to-morrow's festival 
 know what it means when it is declared that 
 God sent his Son into the world to save the 
 lost and to bring the wanderers home." 
 
THE BELATED CHRISTMAS GUESTS. 
 

THE BELATED CHRISTMAS GUESTS. 
 
 o^lc 
 
 ANY long years ago when much of 
 the central and northern part of 
 the state of New York was an 
 unbroken wilderness, before the 
 great forests were cut away, and before rail- 
 roads made a net- work between the different 
 sections of the state, — three families removed 
 from a town near the southern border and 
 took up their abode in one of the counties 
 alqn; - the Mohawk. 
 
 Tiiey were pious families, and had many 
 a regret at leaving the dear old church 
 where for so many years they had wor- 
 shipped the God of their fathers. But there 
 were many young mouths to feed, and the 
 hope of feeding them led to the formation 
 
64 THE BELATED CHRISTMAS GUESTS. 
 
 of new homes in the newer region where 
 not so many stragglers for bread were to be 
 found, and where the bread might perhaps 
 be the more easily won. 
 
 The lands they purchased were in the same 1 
 county, but the rough houses they built were 
 distant from each other some miles. Koads 
 were few, most of them being winding ways 
 along the river bank, or through the woods. 
 There was but little open country, and few 
 neighbors. Cleared spaces were the excep- 
 tion. 
 
 During the summers, there was some little 
 intercourse between the three families, but 
 winter snows were so deep and winter colds 
 so sharp that they saw but little of each 
 other in the cold season, except at Christmas 
 time. " 
 
 It became their custom always to assemble 
 at the house of one of the three the day be- 
 fore Christmas, and to spend Christmas, and 
 a day or two more, in happy festivities. 
 
 There being no church near, they would 
 read the church service in the family room. 
 
THE BELATED CHRISTMAS GUESTS. 65 
 
 talk together of the wondrous birth of the 
 Redeemer, and have many merry games and 
 happy times generally. 
 
 Bright days were those Christmas times; 
 and for a whole twelvemonth every one 
 would look forward to the gathering together 
 of the families. When they separated, they 
 would agree upon the place of meeting for the 
 next Christmas, and then try to wait with 
 patience the rolling around of another year. 
 
 The place agreed upon for the gathering 
 together at Christmas of a certain year, was 
 the home of Mr. Larch who lived in the 
 northern part of the county on a hillside 
 farm. 
 
 The roads leading to it from the homes 
 of the other two families came to a point 
 about five miles south of it. 
 
 A triangle will illustrate the location of 
 the three" homes. Off to the north at the 
 apex was Mr. Larch's, at the right of the 
 base was Mr. Winterwood's, and at the left 
 of the base was Mr. Walters 1 . 
 
 As the days grew on through December, 
 
60 THE BELATED CHRISTMAS GUESTS. 
 
 the young people of the latter two families 
 could scarcely restrain their excited feelings, 
 so joyously did they look forward to the 
 journey on the ox sleds, and to the warm 
 welcome that would await them at Farmer 
 Larch's. 
 
 One of Mr. Winterwood's boys would 
 awake each morning with the question, " Is 
 this the day before Christmas?" and, being 
 so often disappointed, at last went to bed say- 
 ing he would sleep all through the days 
 and nights until they could tell him it was 
 the day before Christmas. But the time 
 passed on, and Christmas drew nearer, slowly 
 enough for the children, but faster for the 
 grown people: for time moves with leaden 
 pace for young, while he flies for those who 
 begin to grow old. 
 
 At last it was the day before Christmas, 
 and Willie Winterwood's question was no 
 longer replied to with a "No." This time 
 he received "Yes." Whereupon he turned 
 two summersaults in the bed, struck his 
 face against the bedpost, and had a black 
 
THE BELATED CHRISTMAS GUESTS. 67 
 
 eye and a swollen nose for the rest of the 
 week. Nevertheless he was happy, although 
 it is hard to look happy if your eye is blacked, 
 and your nose swelled up to twice its prop 
 er size. 
 
 About ten o'clock, when they were to start, 
 the leaden sky was full of snow, but the fine 
 feathery particles had not yet begun to sift 
 down upon the white blanket that already 
 enveloped the earth. 
 
 The elders predicted a heavy storm, and 
 doubted whether it was prudent to set out; 
 out so doleful became the lamentations of the 
 children that it was concluded to risk it 
 anyhow. 
 
 I need not describe the packing of the 
 sleds, — how the big baskets full of roasted 
 turkeys and mince pies, and the crocks full 
 of other good things were stowed away un- 
 der the seats; nor how one of the boys was 
 discovered on the front seat without his cap, 
 which, in his eagerness to go, he had forgot- 
 ten to bring, nor how one of Mr. Walters' 
 little girls plunged headlong into a pot of 
 
68 THE BELATED CHRISTMAS GUESTS. 
 
 butter in her haste to find a seat. It isn't 
 necessary either to describe the flutter and 
 bustle and the shouting as the whips^were 
 cracked, and the cry arose: "Now we're off." 
 
 There were two sled-loads, drawn by two 
 oxen each, starting from points ten miles 
 apart, and expecting to meet at the junction 
 of the two roads, when they would proceed 
 in company. 
 
 The sled-loads were just alike, with this 
 difference, that Mr. Winterwood's four chil- 
 dren were all boys, and Mr. Walters' children 
 were all girls. At Mr. Larch's there was 
 rather a better division, for there were three 
 boys and three girls. 
 
 Well, they have started, and we must im- 
 agine ourselves now up on the top of some 
 high mountain looking down upon them as 
 they move along. Off here to the right is 
 Mr. Winterwood's party, off there to the left 
 is Mr. Walters and his tribe, while away 
 off beyond, eagerly waiting their coming, 
 is the household of Mr. Larch. 
 
THE BELATED CHRISTMAS GUESTS. 69 
 
 The first mile or so of their way was as 
 merry as it could be, but presently down 
 came the snow. Such a snow as it was ! 
 It seemed to come down in shovelfuls. It 
 was blinding — bewildering — be any thing. 
 
 The oxen became white — the folks in the 
 sleds were piled around with it, and soon the 
 roads became so heavy with it that the pa- 
 tient beasts could scarcely pull. But on and 
 on they went, not however without many a 
 dread on the part of the wiser of the parties 
 that it would soon become so deep that they 
 would be checked entirely. 
 
 At length, however, Mr. Winterwood's sled 
 got as far as the junction of the two roads, 
 where was a deep dark forest of hemlock- 
 trees, whose wide-spreading branches spread 
 out as umbrellas and kept off the heavy 
 flakes; only a little white powdery snow 
 could sift in over the brown carpet beneath 
 the trees. It was a pleasant nook. The 
 squirrels and the rabbits kept up a perpetual 
 jollification there, and it was even reported 
 that fairies had been seen dancing there in 
 
70 THE BELATED CHRISTMAS GUESTS. 
 
 the moonlight, on summer nights. It was 
 too cold that day before Christmas, however, 
 for the fairies to be out; for you know their 
 dresses are always so thin, and they wear no 
 overcoats. 
 
 The tired oxen were glad to rest, and as 
 for that, so were the people in the sled; even 
 the impatience of the children was checked, 
 and they were happy to scramble out of the 
 sled, and be rid of the heavy blanket of white 
 that completely covered them. Mr. Winter- 
 wood concluded to wait there for the arrival 
 of Mr. Walters' sled. As they waited, the 
 snow kept on falling faster and faster, as if 
 the whole of some planet had been emptied 
 out on the earth. [1.] By and by it began 
 to grow late in the afternoon, and they were 
 beginning to be afraid that Mr. Walters had 
 turned back, when they heard some one call- 
 ing, and presently the sled with its contents 
 came in sight. It was hard to tell that it 
 was a sled. It looked just like a great snow- 
 ball moving slowly along. However, it was 
 a real sled, drawn by oxen, and real people 
 
THE BELATED CHRISTMAS GUESTS. 71 
 
 were in the sled. But how tired they weie! 
 I mean both the people and the oxen. They 
 had had a harder time than Mr. Winter- 
 wood's party, and were nearly used up. [2.] 
 
 Well, what was to be done? The snow 
 was drifting frightfully. Just beyond the 
 clump of trees, where they found shelter, 
 they eould see the great banks of white, 
 covering up all traces of the road, and it 
 seemed too full of peril to attempt to floun- 
 der through it. But then what a disappoint- 
 ment to be only five miles away from where 
 they knew good cheer and welcome awaited 
 them, and yet to be unable to get any 
 nearer. 
 
 Some of the younger folks were for push- 
 ing on, for you must have imagined that 
 there were various Christmas gifts stowed 
 away somewhere among " the mince pies 
 and things," that they wanted to get out. 
 One of the little girls had a white kitten, 
 that wasn't among the mince pies however. 
 It was safely boxed up in the sled. It was 
 intended to be a gift to a small boy at Mr. 
 
72 THE BELATED CHRISTMAS GUESTS. 
 
 Larch's, and was now crying piteously. Poor 
 kitten, it would have cried still harder if it 
 could have realized what are the tender mer- 
 cies of many a boy. That same kitten was 
 subsequently found with a strip of red flan- 
 nel tied to its tail, and harnessed to a wooden 
 cart, trying, but trying ineffectually, to draw 
 its master. 
 
 The elders, after going to the edge of the 
 wood, and taking measurements in the snow, 
 decided it to be too deep to go on, and that 
 the night must be spent where they were. 
 Possibly they could proceed in the morning 
 when the snow ceased falling. 
 
 When this decision was reached, they all 
 set to work to make themselves comforta- 
 ble. Now it was a very different task, mak- 
 ing themselves comfortable there, from what 
 it was usually. But there is always a way 
 when there is a will, so they took the blank- 
 ets and buffalo robes, and with a frame- 
 work of hemlock boughs soon had a rude 
 tent made. It was a little too small, but it 
 gave fine shelter to the two mothers, the 
 
THE BELATED CHRISTMAS GUESTS. 73 
 
 babies, and the girls, while the men and 
 boys leaned the sleds up against the trees, 
 and found very fair shelter in that way. A 
 blazing fire in front of the tent sent cut its 
 genial warmth and thawed them out. 
 
 By and by they were very merry, and a 
 great deal happier than they thought they 
 could have been under such circumstances. 
 The great big baskets containing their lun- 
 cheon were brought out, and although they 
 had to take snowballs instead of coffee or 
 tea or milk, they had rather a good supper, 
 and presently betook themselves to bed. 
 
 Now their beds, be it understood, were not 
 fine mattresses nor warm feathers, but hem- 
 lock boughs. But what the beds lost in soft- 
 ness, they made up in fragrance; and every 
 one slept tolerably well, although towards 
 morning the boy with the swollen nose tried 
 another summersault, and this time struck 
 against a side of a sled and blackened his 
 other eye. 
 
 When the morning dawned, the wind was 
 moaning through the trees, but the snow 
 
74 THE BELATED CHRISTMAS GUESTS. 
 
 had ceased. The sun presently arose upon 
 as white a Christmas Day as was ever seen. 
 All traces of the earth had disappeared, and 
 it seemed as if the whiteness were intended 
 to symbolize the purity of that Birth in the 
 manger. 
 
 But although the snow had ceased, it was 
 too deep to go on, and it seemed as if they 
 must wait just where they were, and spend 
 their Christmas in the woods. 
 
 Fortunately they had great mince pies they 
 were carrying as gifts to Mrs. Larch, and 
 quantities of other eatables were produced 
 from the baskets. 
 
 There was no help for it but to devqur 
 the things they had intended as Christmas 
 gifts. 
 
 Of course I do not mean the cat, for that 
 was reserved for another fate. The appe- 
 tites of the party were by no means dimin- 
 ished by their night in the woods, but stead- 
 ily, steadily, the mince pies and the cold 
 turkeys disappeared. It wasn't a bad break- 
 fast either, even though they sat on the 
 
THE BELATED CHRISTMAS GUESTS. 75 
 
 ground, and moistened each mouthful with 
 a nibble of snow. 
 
 The children thought it the jolliest Christ- 
 mas breakfast they had ever taken, and the 
 older people thought it might do for a 
 change, but they wouldn't like it as a steady 
 thing. 
 
 After they had finished, Mr. Winterwood 
 gathered them all together, and conducted 
 a service for Christmas Day. It was a new 
 way of keeping the festival of the Christ 
 Child — there in the woods around a great 
 fire. But their worship was none the less 
 acceptable to the Babe of Bethlehem because 
 it was not rendered in stately cathedral or 
 in the sacred precincts of the Church. They 
 were in God's temple, — a temple not made 
 with hands. 
 
 The few simple carols they had learned 
 rang out clear and full upon the wintry air; 
 and a rabbit or two and a gray squirrel 
 hearing the melody drew courteously near, 
 and looked approvingly on. 
 
 The sober oxen as they munched the hay 
 
76 THE BELATED CHRISTMAS GUESTS. 
 
 that had fortunately been spread in the sleds, 
 seemed to the children to reproduce the cat- 
 tle that once looked wonderingly on where a 
 Child lay in the manger of a stall. [3.] 
 
 There was a sermon too ; a sermon not by 
 a clergyman, but by a layman; for when the 
 service was ended, Mr. Walters arose, and 
 this is what he said: — 
 
 " Dear ones all, — Here we are this white 
 Christmas morning snowed up in the woods, 
 but even here our hearts can be filled with 
 gladness, for we rejoice that the dear Lord 
 came down from heaven to be a little child 
 for us. 
 
 " Sheltered by these giant trees, we look 
 out upon the billows of snow yonder, and 
 think of the Avorld that slept while in the 
 shed of a humble inn the virgin mother 
 pressed her babe to her bosom. The world 
 was as unconscious then, as the snow is now, 
 of the blessing that had come to men. 
 
 " Here we are shut in, while now in myr- 
 iads of places the echoing choruses of hymns 
 and psalms ascend to God in praise for Hie 
 
THE BELATED CHRISTMAS GUESTS. 77 
 
 best gift to men. But even here perhaps we 
 are not alone, for it may be that in the soli- 
 tude of this place there are heavenly visitants, 
 the angels of the Lord, who are speaking 
 good things to our hearts, and singing anew 
 the anthem, ' Peace on earth, good- will to 
 men.' " 
 
 That was the end of the sermon, but it was 
 not intended to be the end. 
 
 He had a great deal more to say, but 
 just at that instant, while all were listen- 
 ing intently to him, there arose an im- 
 mense shout. [4.] What was it? Where 
 did it come from? Who raised it? 
 
 Then it was repeated louder, — nearer. — 
 
 They sprang to their feet, ran in the di- 
 rection of the sound, and what to their de- 
 lighted eyes should appear but Farmer Larch 
 with all his hired men, in a double yoked ox 
 team. 
 
 They had been up ever since daylight, and 
 had been breaking their way through the 
 drifts, and had caught sight of the belated 
 guests just as Mr. Walters was in the midst 
 
78 THE BELATED CHRISTMAS GUESTS. 
 
 of his sermon. He never finished that ser- 
 mon, but always declared that even though 
 Mr. Larch and his hired men were not an- 
 gels, their shout was an angel's shout, for it 
 was good-will towards men. 
 
 Well, the noise that disturbed the Christ- 
 mas sermon was nothing now to that with 
 which the relief party was welcomed. Even 
 the two quiet mothers with the babies raised 
 their voices, and added to the din, when it 
 was reported that the road was now clear. 
 
 The boy with the two black eyes and the 
 swollen nose seriously contemplated trying 
 another summersault, but he was caught in 
 time to save his neck. 
 
 Well, they made a triumphal march of 
 it. They left two sleds in the woods, har- 
 nessed the eight oxen in couples to one sled, 
 and then all piled in. 
 
 It was a jam, but upon great occasions 
 flesh and blood are very compressible. It 
 was certainly so in this case. They all got 
 in, and they all got out again, for the kitten 
 had escaped, and the little girl whose treas- 
 
THE BELATED CHRISTMAS GUESTS. 7f> 
 
 ure she was, was weeping bitterly. How- 
 ever, they soon found the pussy comfortably 
 dozing by the dying embers of the fire, and 
 she was captured, and relentlessly carried to 
 her fate 
 
 Off they went. Why, it was the noisiest 
 party that ever went over that five miles' 
 road. 
 
 A poor little rabbit hearing the din, peeped 
 out of a hollow tree where he had crept, but 
 was so frightened that he drew in his head, 
 and never looked out again until next day. 
 
 Two squirrels on a tree were so shocked 
 that they tumbled over backwards into a 
 deep snow bank, and never knew how they 
 got there. 
 
 But it was the merriest Christmas Day that 
 ever was spent, and young and old never re- 
 gretted that they were belated Christmas 
 guests in the woods along the Mohawk. 
 
ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS, 
 
ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 =>X«C 
 
 N the coast of Maine there is a 
 fishing village known as Wins- 
 kogan. It is beautifully situated, 
 but its inhabitants are, or rather 
 were, some years ago when this story opens, 
 of the roughest sort. The men spent most of 
 the pleasant weather away from home fish- 
 ing, and the long, cold winters were passed 
 around the stove of a miserable drinking 
 place known as Billy Brown's Bunk. 
 
 The women were an untidy set, addicted 
 to gossiping, quarrelling, and fighting. Tho 
 children who grew up in the wretched homes 
 of Winskogan were any thing but attractive. 
 The highest ambition of most of the boys 
 was to become old enough to go with their 
 fathers to Billy Brown's Bunk, while the 
 
Si ROBERT ROUNCE's CHRISTMAS. 
 
 girls were fast following in the footsteps of 
 their mothers. 
 
 They were altogether as unpromising a set 
 of children as could anywhere be found. 
 
 Strangers whom business called to the vil- 
 lage made their way out of it as soon as 
 they could, and no summer guests could be 
 found to spend the summer months there, 
 although there are few spots on the New 
 England coast so thoroughly beautiful. 
 
 A graceful indentation in the shore line 
 formed a bay, in the centre of which was an 
 island covered with grand old trees. The 
 beach was strewn with the finest white peb- 
 bles, while back of the village a gently slop- 
 ing hill was carpeted in summer with the 
 richest verdure. Beyond the hill was a lake 
 of fresh water, abounding with fishes, and 
 making a skating surface in winter as cleai 
 as crystal and as smooth as glass. 
 
 But the people of the place, intent only 
 upon getting enough to eat, and indulging 
 their debased natures, failed to enjoy the 
 beautiful scenery, and they were so disa 
 
ROBERT ROUNCES CHRISTMAS. 8o 
 
 greeable as neighbors, that no visitors came 
 among them except those who found it ab- 
 solutely necessary, such as an occasional mer« 
 chant to collect a bill, or a peddler to sell 
 his wares. 
 
 Sunday was like any ordinary day in 
 Winskogan, except that the fights and sprees 
 were more frequent then than at other times. 
 There was no church, and no minister ever 
 visited the village, even for an occasional 
 service. 
 
 Strange to say, however, in this debased 
 settlement, where the name of God was rare- 
 ly uttered, except in oaths and curses, and 
 where all the influences were downward, 
 there was one boy who was an exception 
 to the others in many things. His name 
 was Robert Rounce. His parents were just 
 like the other parents there, — -just as unclean, 
 just as neglectful of themselves, just as vi 
 eious. Robert was fourteen years old when 
 our story opens, fourteen in the early part 
 of December. He was the leader of the boys 
 in all their plays, but would never lead them 
 
80 ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 upon any of their thieving or fighting ex- 
 peditions. He was just as ragged and dirty 
 as they were, but they could never make 
 him lie or steal. 
 
 "W lien they wanted a leader in some evil 
 doings, and such occasions were very fre- 
 quent, they put Dick Lay at their head. 
 Dick was about as bad as a boy could well 
 be at sixteen. He could swear, and had 
 often fought in a ring. 
 
 These were the two leaders of the boys of 
 Winskogan. In all sports and games Bob 
 Rounce led them, but when there was a 
 plot to steal eggs, to sink a boat, or to have 
 a fight, they were led by Dick Lay. Per- 
 haps it would be well to describe the per- 
 sonal appearance of the two boys. Bob was 
 of fair size for one of his years. He had 
 light hair and blue eyes, and when his face 
 was clean it was tolerably handsome. Sel- 
 dom, however, was it clean. Generally it 
 was smudged and smeared, and his hair 
 hung in a tangled mass over his forehead. 
 His garments huns' in tatters about him, and 
 
ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. 87 
 
 were always too large for him, having first 
 done service for his father. You might have 
 seen him almost any evening in summer 
 towards dark wending his way homeward 
 with a pair of oars over his shoulder, or if it 
 was winter he might have a big jack-knife 
 in one hand, and a piece of wood in the 
 other, industriously carving out the model 
 of a ship. [1.] 
 
 If you saw him once you would know him 
 again. 
 
 Pick Lay was a larger boy, broad shoul- 
 dered, dark haired, and rather more ragged 
 than the others. There was usually a frown 
 upon his face, and nearly every one felt like 
 giving him a kick or a blow, for if any thing 
 was lost, or any one's pig was turned out 
 of the pen, or any other mischief done, it 
 was thought at once that Dick had a hand 
 in it, or knew something about it. You 
 would certainly not forget Dick's appearance 
 after once seeing him. [2.] 
 
 About the beginning of one December the 
 whole village of Winskogan was in a fer- 
 
88 ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 ment. Three new families had arrived in 
 this country from England, and, knowing the 
 landlord of some of the houses in the village, 
 had been induced by him to go and occupy 
 three of his cottages that were vacant. The 
 three fathers had been fishermen in the old 
 country, and they overlooked the forbidding 
 character of Winskogan in the prospect which 
 they saw before them of earning a living by 
 their nets. 
 
 The cottages of which they took possession 
 were situated near the brow of the hill over- 
 looking the lake. They had long been va- 
 cant, no strangers caring to live in so wicked 
 a neighborhood. 
 
 These three families were good people, and 
 members of the church. The children num- 
 bered in all nine girls and seven boys; a 
 healthy, rugged party, fond of fun, but well 
 trained and orderly. 
 
 The winter had set in cold and crisp when 
 they came, and the children were soon busy 
 with their skates and sleds on the pond, and 
 as happy and as merry as children could be, 
 
ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. 89 
 
 except when they came in contact with the 
 groups of boys who regarded their occupa- 
 tion of the pond as an intrusion. 
 
 Dick Lay proposed driving them from the 
 pond altogether, but somehow or other "the 
 little Englishers," as they were called, seemed 
 so merry and so harmless that no one was 
 quite ready to injure them, although they 
 often were hooted at and worried. 
 
 From the day the children came, they were 
 a complete fascination to Bob Rounuu He 
 would watch them by the hour at their 
 sports, but for a long time no persuasion 
 would induce him to come near them. He 
 kept at a distance, and watched and ad- 
 mired, and when the other boys were rude 
 would drive them back and stand guard over 
 "the little Englishers." Gradually, however, 
 their kind approaches overcame his diffi- 
 dence, and he would now and then join 
 them in their plays, but still he preferred 
 standing off and watching them with admir- 
 ing glances. 
 
 At length the day before Christmas came. 
 
90 ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 and there was great bustle and excitement 
 in the cottages on the hill. The three moth- 
 ers were busy preparing plum puddings, and 
 the three fathers were just as busy pulling 
 the feathers off the wild turkeys they had 
 shot that day in the woods. 
 
 The children were huddling themselves up 
 with cloaks and hoods and overcoats, pre- 
 paring to go out to find Christmas trees. 
 
 Just as they were ready to start, one of 
 them exclaimed — " Say, boys and girls, let's 
 get Bob Eounce to go with us. He'll know 
 where to find 'em." "Why," said another, 
 "you can't get near enough to him. He's 
 so shy." "Let's go down to his house any- 
 how" said a third, and so, laughing and chat- 
 tering and skipping, on they went to get Bob 
 Kounce. [3.] Presently they reached the cot- 
 tage, knocked at the door, and heard some 
 one inside call out — 
 
 " Come in, why don't ye ? " 
 
 It almost frightened them, the tones were 
 so gruff, but they mustered courage and went 
 in. Faugh! how it smelt offish, and tobacco 
 
ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. i»l 
 
 and whiskey. The smell nearly took their 
 breath. On one side of the fireplace was a 
 great tall man, seated on a stool, mending 
 a net. Bustling around, with a short clay 
 pipe in her mouth, was an ugly, coarse-feat- 
 ured woman. Two dogs raised their heads, 
 and growled at the children. 
 
 " What you want ? — say," screamed the 
 woman. 
 
 " Please, ma'am," said little Julia, one of 
 the party, "we want Robert." 
 
 " Who's Robert ? " cried the woman coming 
 towards them. 
 
 "Why, your little boy, ma'am; we want 
 him to go with us to get some Christ- 
 mas trees," George, the oldest of the boys, 
 said. 
 
 "Ye mean our Bob, do ye? Well he's not 
 to home now. What's Krisnis trees? We 
 don't have any sich things as them here." 
 
 " Don't you," timidly replied one of them, 
 "why, we always had 'em at home, and we 
 can't just tell where to find 'em here, and 
 so we want your boy to go with us." 
 
92 ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 The woman looked at the children with 
 strange surprise, and the man dropped his 
 net on the floor. 
 
 Christmas trees ! It was a new idea to 
 them, but before they could have it further 
 explained, the door opened, and Bob came 
 in, blowing his fingers and slapping them 
 on his breast to make them warm. When 
 he saw the children, a broad grin spread 
 itself over his face, but without a word he 
 shrank into a corner, and looked at them 
 with wondering eyes. 
 
 " See here, Bob," said his mother, " these 
 here children wants you to git 'em some 
 kind of a tree they calls Krisnis tree. I 
 don't know nothing 'bout it; but jest you 
 go with 'em and see wot it is." 
 
 Bob's cap was on his head in a moment, 
 and with one bound he was out of the door, 
 but there he stopped. 
 
 " Krisnis tree ! " said he, " ain't got none 
 here. Is it willers? Does yer want willers 
 for to make baskets with?" 
 
 " No," replied one of the boys. " We want 
 
ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. 93 
 
 some green trees to hang pretty things on, 
 and to light up. To-morrow is Christmas. 
 You go out to the woods with us and we 
 will show you what we are after." 
 
 Bob was never more perplexed in his life. 
 If they had asked him about boats, or fishes, 
 or nets, he could have told them any thing 
 they wanted to know ; but Christmas trees ! 
 Well, they were new to him; but the children 
 gathered around him, and their manner was 
 so kindly and their good humor so inspir- 
 ing that with a laugh he darted off towards 
 the woods, and the merry party after him. 
 
 Like one required to do something in the 
 dark, or like a bachelor asked to hold a 
 baby, Bob started away to the woods to find 
 Christmas trees; something green was all he 
 had in mind, and he knew that hemlocks 
 and cedars were green in winter. 
 
 His legs were swifter than the children's, 
 and the group that ran after him could hardly 
 keep up with him. [4.] 
 
 But when any one would tumble in the 
 unnw. Bob would stop and help him up, the 
 
94 ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 broad grin of pleasure never leaving his face. 
 He had led many a party of dirty, rough 
 boys, but never had he been the leader of 
 such a merry, happy set. 
 
 We can not stop to tell the many strange 
 thoughts he had as he skipped along up the 
 hill, along the edge of the pond, down the 
 road, and across the fields to the great woods 
 beyond. Nor can we tell how he cudgelled his 
 brains to understand Christmas and Christ- 
 mas trees. 
 
 At length, as they entered the woods, the 
 children screamed out, 
 
 " Oh, there they are. What beauties ! " 
 and he saw them rush up to a great branch- 
 ing hemlock, and begin to lop off some of 
 the low branches. 
 
 In his eagerness to know what they want- 
 ed to do with these great green boughs, his 
 shyness vanished and he asked — 
 
 " Wot's it going to make. Yer can't 
 burn it." 
 
 " No, Bobby," one answered, " we don't 
 want to burn the boughs, but we want them 
 
ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. 95 
 
 for Christmas. That's to-morrow, and you 
 shall come, and see one of them all lighted 
 up, and trimmed with nice things. Don't 
 you keep Christmas too ? " 
 
 "Don't know what it is," poor Bob con- 
 fessed. 
 
 The children's turn to be amazed came 
 now, for they never expected to see a boy 
 who really knew nothing at all about Christ- 
 mas. One and then another poured into his 
 astonished ears the story of Christmas — how 
 Christ was born in a manger — how the an- 
 gels sang on that blessed morning long ago 
 — how the shepherds left their flocks and 
 came to the manger — how the church bells 
 pealed forth their merry chimes every Christ- 
 mas Day in their old home — and how they 
 used to sing carols in the old church at 
 home. Why they had so many things to 
 tell him that the poor boy's brain was all in 
 a muddle, and he asked if the angels grew 
 on Christmas trees, and if the church chimes 
 rang in the children's stockings. 
 
 It was a veiy merry walk home, each with 
 
96 ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 a good branch of hemlock on his shoul- 
 der. [5.] Even Bob had one, although he 
 had no idea what to do with it when he got 
 home or where he would put it. He was 
 sure his mother would burn it up, or per- 
 haps his father would cut off a big switch, 
 and save it to whip him with. 
 
 By and by, as the little party reached the 
 pond, one of them proposed that they should 
 sing their old Christmas carols. "It will 
 make the folks think of home," they said. 
 
 They paused a minute, and then out in 
 the gathering twilight carolled forth the 
 Christmas songs they had learned in old 
 England. [6.] By the time they had fin- 
 ished singing two or three, the lights were 
 lighted in the cottage windows, and the great 
 fires within cast their ruddy glow over the 
 group, making a picture of rare beauty. [7.] 
 
 " Good night," " Good night," " Thank you, 
 Bob," " Come to-morrow and see the trees 
 lighted up." 
 
 Bob started off home with his head almost 
 bursting with the new ideas they had put 
 
ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. 97 
 
 into it, and presently dashed into the hut 
 where he lived with the Christmas tree on 
 his shoulder. Just as he expected, there was 
 a row about his bringing such a thing home. 
 " We ain't no room for it." " Out with it," 
 his mother's shrill voice cried. The poor fel- 
 low begged and implored that he might be 
 permitted to keep it, and then began the 
 most singular jumble of Christmas talk any- 
 one ever heard. He told his astonished par- 
 ents about a Kris Kringle coming up out 
 of a stocking and filling a chimney with 
 candies and toys — about trees singing songs 
 up in the old church towers — about bells 
 lighted up with hundreds of lights — about 
 angels keeping watch over sheep — and shep- 
 herds flying through the air. 
 
 It was a curious jumble, but there was one 
 point he did get straight. He remembered 
 clearly about the One who was born in a 
 stable, and the gentle mother who cradled 
 Him in a manger, and in his own rough way 
 he tried to sing one of the carols he had 
 heard the children sing. 
 7 
 
i)8 ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 His parents thought the boy's wits were 
 leaving him, but when they saw his earnest- 
 ness and delight they felt something rising 
 in their hearts they had not known for many 
 a year, and before they went to bed that 
 night the rough father spoke more gently 
 than he had spoken for many a day. " Mol- 
 ly, 'pears to me I've hearn all that before 
 about the baby in the manger. My mother 
 used for to tell me suthin' like it afore I 
 corned to this here wild place. She used to 
 tell me suthin' like it, but it's putty much all 
 kinder knocked out of my head, only I 'mem- 
 ber it was suthin' like that." 
 
 And there by the flickering firelight, the 
 rough man sat down, and tried to recall that 
 mother's words about the manger and the 
 babe. Did not some Christmas angel find his 
 way to that hut that night to assist the mem- 
 ory so clogged with the sins of later years V 
 And did not some bright wing spread itself 
 out to give sweeter dreams to the poor boy 
 who that day had heard for the first time the 
 sweet, sweet story? [8.] 
 
ROBERT KOUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. , 99 
 
 What a day Avas that Christmas to Bob 
 Rounce ! 
 
 A light fall of snow had through the night 
 covered the earth with a pure, fresh, white 
 mantle. The clear, cold air was inspiriting. 
 It was an ideal Christmas Day. 
 
 As the afternoon came on, and it was hard 
 for Bob to wait for its coming, he might have 
 been seen wending his way to the cottages 
 on the hill. 
 
 It was evident that he had made some 
 attempts at improving his personal appear- 
 ance. His hair was combed, and his face 
 and hands were some shades lighter. The 
 rents and rags were still in his garments, 
 but still he looked brighter and smarter. 
 When he reached the first cottage the chil- 
 dren saw him [9J, and bouncing out hurried 
 him in to the cheerful room where the lire 
 burned so brightly, and where the very spirit 
 of good humor freely abounded. 
 
 The first object that greeted his eyes was 
 one of the trees he had helped them get, ele- 
 vated upon a table, and covered all over with 
 
10(V ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 the prettiest toys he had ever seen. Some 
 of them were the children's treasures saved 
 up from the great Christmas trees in the old 
 church at home. How the poor boy's eyes 
 feasted upon the sight ! So great was his 
 delight that he gave a long, loud whistle, 
 and whirled himself around and around, 
 while his rags flew out like streamers on 
 every side of him. And as he in this quaint 
 manner expressed his joy, the children scam- 
 pered about, clapped their hands, and laughed 
 until the tears streamed down their cheeks. 
 
 But how shall we describe that happy af- 
 ternoon? All the three families were gath- 
 ered together in the same cottage and a mer- 
 ry time there was. They gave Bob some 
 plum pudding, and so many other nice things 
 to eat that his poor stomach must have won- 
 dered at the unusual food that was crammed 
 down into it. Then they had some singing, 
 and after awhile one of the fathers read the 
 story of the Saviour's birth out of the Bible. 
 After this came games and stories and long 
 and happy talks. 
 
ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. 101 
 
 Why, it was a new world for Bob, and his 
 big eyes looked as if they would start forth 
 from their sockets, while his ears drank in 
 the pleasant things he heard. 
 
 It was his first Christmas. The day had 
 come and gone for him thirteen times before, 
 "but never had he known what joy it could 
 bring until now. His heart was thrilling 
 with a new gladness. 
 
 When he went home in the pale moon- 
 light, he scarcely knew whether he walked 
 or flew, and sometimes he had to pull a piece 
 of Christmas cake out of his pocket, and take 
 a bite to see if he was not dreaming. 
 
 Was there ever such a delighted boy ! Out 
 of one pocket there stuck the end of a jump- 
 ing-jack. The other was stuffed with cake. 
 Around his neck was a string of candy toys, 
 and in his cap one of the children had put 
 some sprigs of evergreen. He was a perfect 
 picture of gladness ! As he got near home, 
 he had to sit right down in the snow, to 
 try his jumping-jack, munch his cake, and 
 blow his tin trumpet. [10.] 
 
102 ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRIS1MAS. 
 
 Well, the days and weeks passed on, and 
 with them came many changes. The new- 
 comers to Winskogan were not content to 
 have their neighbors remain in heathen dark- 
 ness, and it was not long before a minister 
 was engaged to come occasionally and preach 
 the Gospel to them. 
 
 We will not describe the amazement of the 
 fishermen as they flung themselves into the 
 old boathouse where the first service was 
 held, and saw the minister kneel to offer 
 the first public prayers ever offered in Wins- 
 kogan ; nor need we tell how they listened to 
 the first sermon which told them of the love 
 of Christ for sinners. 
 
 Soon there was a Sunday school, and then 
 a day school. Wonders of old time were re- 
 peated ! Miracles seemed wrought again ! 
 Billy Brown's Bunk began to lose its custom- 
 ers, and ere long there wasn't a dog fight on 
 Sundays in the whole village. Rags began 
 to disappear, and people came out in clean, 
 neatly -patched garments. Clean faces be- 
 came the rule among the children, and a 
 
ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. 103 
 
 general brightening up spread over every 
 one and every thing. 
 
 See what springs up there the next au- 
 tumn! 
 
 Can we believe our eyes? They are ac- 
 tually building a chapel, and they say it will 
 be ready at Christmas. The old boathouse 
 is too small to hold the people, and they are 
 hurrying on the chapel as fast as they can 
 build it. 
 
 Day by day the work goes on ! Hammer- 
 ing, sawing, painting, plastering! Yes, there 
 it rises, a neat little building, and it will 
 be ready by Christmas. Who could have 
 dreamed of such a thing in Wiuskogan ! 
 But there it is, and prominent among the 
 workers we see Bob Rounce. [11.] We 
 hardly recognize him, so greatly has he 
 changed. And who is that with him, car- 
 rying things for the workmen ? Surely we 
 know his face. Why, bless us, it is Dick 
 Lay! [12.] 
 
104 ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. 
 
 And now it is Christmas Eve again, and a 
 happy group of children and older people 
 are preparing the decorations of the chapel 
 in Winskogan. 
 
 "The little Englishers" are there, directing 
 hitherto untutored hands in the mysteries of 
 trimming the evergreens about the windows, 
 the arches, and the doors, and putting a 
 glowing inscription on the walls. Bobby 
 Rounce's father has remembered the story his 
 mother told him so long ago. It is all fresh 
 now, and he is here to help. His shrill- 
 voiced wife has somehow or other toned 
 down to a more modest pitch, and her shrill 
 scream is seldom heard. She is helping too. 
 Why, they are all helping! Great strong 
 men, and as strong women, whom hardship 
 and past excesses had once well nigh brutal- 
 ized are there to-night, grown gentler, and, 
 if we may judge by their eager interest 
 to-night, they will welcome the glad Christ- 
 mas morning with a joy they have never 
 known before. But hark ! The trimming 
 has ceased. Sweet strains of music are float- 
 
ROBERT ROUNCE'S CHRISTMAS. 105 
 
 ing through the little chapel this Christ- 
 mas Eve. [13.] Hark ! They are singing 
 a carol ! Louder and louder it grows as one 
 and another takes up the strain. 
 
 New voices have caught the melody. Bob 
 Rounce and Dick Lay, and many more who a 
 year ago knew not the glad tidings, are now 
 singing with gladness this Christmas Eve. 
 We know not whether choirs of angels come 
 again to earth, but we can almost fancy as 
 these voices in the chapel stop their singing 
 that an angel host have taken up the old 
 song, " Glory to God in the highest, and on 
 earth peace, good- will towards men." [14] 
 
How THE CREW OF THE SEA GULL 
 SPENT CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
wn;r 
 
 
HOW THE CREW OF THE SEA GULL 
 SPENT CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 »CK° 
 
 UT on the ocean, on the day before 
 Christmas of 1830, a sailing vessel 
 known as "The Sea Gull," with 
 canvas all set, was making her 
 way swiftly towards the harbor of Harbor- 
 port. 
 
 The voyage had been a profitable one, 
 and now the crew were filled with happy 
 thoughts of warm firesides at home, and 
 hearty Christmas greetings from old friends 
 and companions. They expected to cast an- 
 chor in the harbor early the next morning, 
 and by the time the church bells were ring- 
 ing, would, if all went well, go ashore, and 
 join the Te Deum which they thought they 
 could sing all the more heartily for their sale 
 
110 HOW THE CREW OF THE SEA GULL 
 
 return from the perils of the sea. But as it 
 grew towards dusk on that Christmas Eve, 
 and when they Avere but a few miles from 
 the harbor, a great blinding storm of hail 
 and snow came rolling down upon them from 
 the North, and blew them out to sea. 
 
 The sails were lowered, and for weary 
 hours the vessel was driven by the wind 
 they knew not whither. 
 
 It was a frightful storm and had come 
 upon them almost without warning. The 
 great flakes of snow came down upon the 
 decks, and now and then a dash of hail 
 would cut, as with knives, the faces and 
 hands of those who had to stay on deck. 
 
 The wind whistled and moaned through 
 the cordage and the cold waves fairly leaped 
 over the vessel, as if they were pursuing 
 fiends intent upon her destruction. [1.] 
 
 It was a night of terror. The best that 
 could be done was to keep the vessel out of 
 the trough of the sea, and trust to Him who 
 holds the winds in the hollow of His hands. 
 
 Would the storm never cease? Would 
 
SPENT CHRISTMAS EVE. Ill 
 
 there be no change ? Where would they 
 be driven to? Alas, they could not answer; 
 and their hearts sank with disappointment 
 as they thought of the homes to which they 
 were once so near, but now were so rapidly 
 leaving. 
 
 Dismay seized them as they found them- 
 selves driven so furiously onward, and as 
 they thought of the perils of collision with 
 other vessels, and of the possibility of being 
 dashed upon some rocky shore. 
 
 But on and on went the ship, due south- 
 ward, with the full force and swiftness of 
 the storm. As if a giant had hurled her on, 
 so went she in her headlong rush with the 
 storm. 
 
 It grew so dark presently that they could 
 no longer see the white snow, although it 
 kept falling in heavy flakes mingled with 
 the cutting hail. It was such a night of 
 peril that the stoutest hearts among them 
 began to lose hope, and to fear lest their 
 Christmas should find them engulfed be- 
 neath the cold waves. They never expected 
 
112 HOW THE CREW OF THE SEA GULL 
 
 to see the land again. But they were nearer 
 the land than they supposed, for in the very 
 height of the fury of the storm there was a 
 crash that loosened every timber in the ship, 
 and she was driven high up upon the beach 
 of an island off the coast. 
 
 The ship staggered, and trembled, and 
 then careened over upon her side, and there 
 they were, somewhere, they knew not where, 
 out of the depths of the sea among the break- 
 ers on the beach. Strange that they did not 
 hear the breakers before, but then the din 
 of the storm had been so loud, and their 
 terror had been so extreme, that the break- 
 ers' roar had been unperceived, and beside 
 no human skill or power could have changed 
 their course. On the island they went head- 
 long, and there they were. 
 
 When they had recovered somewhat from 
 the shock, and had collected their scattered 
 senses, they found the vessel beached far 
 up where the water was not so very deep, 
 and where upon the recession of the waves 
 her bow was but a short distance in the 
 
SPENT CHRISTMAS EVE. 113 
 
 water. Expecting that she would go to 
 pieces, they concluded to get to the land 
 if possible. It was a difficult feat to do so, 
 but one by one they climbed out upon the 
 bowsprit, and watching their chance, at the 
 moment of the receding of the waves, they 
 swam and waded as best they could to the 
 shore. 
 
 Not a light was visible, and not a sound 
 except the roaring of the breakers, the rush 
 of the storm, and the whistling of the wind 
 through the shrouds of the deserted vessel. 
 
 They were on shore at last, and out of the 
 perils of the deep, but they were not much 
 better off after all, for all were wet, and cold, 
 the night was dark and not a place of shelter 
 could they find. 
 
 But they groped along, wearily climbed 
 over the line of sand hills that bounded the 
 beach, and at length stumbled into a deep 
 hollow in the sand where they were some- 
 what protected from the cold winds, and the 
 colder, cutting hail. 
 
 Here they huddled together and waited, 
 8 
 
114 HOW THE CREW OF THE SEA GULL 
 
 waited for what? They knew not what, 
 only they waited ; to keep themselves warm- 
 er, they dug with their cold fingers into the 
 sand, and partly buried their bodies. It 
 was but a poor device, but perhaps it kept 
 them from perishing. [2.] But by and by 
 came a change. They noted the gradual 
 dying down of the storm. The blasts came 
 less frequently and towards midnight there 
 was a calm. The angry waves still kept up 
 their roar, but the storm was over. It was 
 however inky blackness all about them, save 
 that here and there a star began to twinkle 
 through a rift in the clouds. But they knew 
 not where to go or what to do, and so re- 
 mained huddled, and buried together in the 
 hollow of the sand-bank. 
 
 After a time, one of their number raising 
 his head fancied he saw a moving light land- 
 ward. He told the others, and they stretched 
 their necks, and peered in the direction he 
 pointed out. 
 
 Sure enough it was a light, but what was 
 it? See, there is another, and another, and 
 
SPEIST CHRISTMAS EVE. 115 
 
 now a score, moving along nearer and nearer 
 towards them. 
 
 What are they ? Who carry them ? Is it 
 a wrecking party of men with pirate -like 
 feelings who have seen the wreck and come 
 to plunder the helpless crew? 
 
 They can not tell, but at length resolve to 
 get out of their sandy graves, and accost 
 those who carried the lights. 
 
 As they straighten their stiffened limbs, 
 and shake off the heavy wet sand that en- 
 cumbers them, a burst of music reaches 
 their ears — the words of an old carol which 
 they had often sung at home in days gone 
 by. They listen with perfect transport of 
 joy, and when the chorus is reached raise 
 their own weak, trembling voices, and join 
 with all their might. [3.] 
 
 But what an effect their singing has had 
 upon the party with the lights ! They have 
 ceased in terror, and with one accord have 
 taken to their heels, and are rushing towards 
 the village. 
 
 While the two parties are in this position, 
 
11(3 HOW THE CREW OF THE SEA GULL 
 
 I must pause and tell you who they were 
 who carried the lights. 
 
 There was a fishing village on the island, 
 numbering about two hundred souls; and for 
 many years it had been the custom for the 
 young fishermen to go around to the differ- 
 ent cottages in the scattered village on 
 Christmas Eve singing carols. 
 
 On this night of which I have been telling 
 you, they were almost discouraged by the 
 storm from following out their usual custom, 
 and waited disconsolately in the cottage of 
 one of their number until the midnight had 
 come. But when they were about abandon- 
 ing their intended serenade, and separating 
 each for his own house, they found that the 
 storm was over, and so were on their way 
 to awaken the sleeping families with their 
 bursts of Christmas music. 
 
 It was the first carol they had sung, when 
 the chorus was so strangely taken up by the 
 voices in the sand-bank. 
 
 Now you must remember that fishermen 
 are usually superstitious folk, and when they 
 
SPENT CHRISTMAS EVE. 117 
 
 heard the echo of their music from the voices 
 in the bank, they at once concluded that the 
 sea had rolled up its dead that Christmas Eve 
 in the storm, and that the dead had joined 
 the song of the living in honor of the natal 
 day. 
 
 So did this conviction take possession of 
 them that they expected to see the dead, 
 with glassy eyes and shrunken features, but 
 strangely endowed with life this Christmas 
 morning, wrapped in the garments which 
 the sea had wound around them as they 
 rolled about in rocky caverns beneath the 
 deep waters. 
 
 And so the carollers took to their heels 
 and ran, heedless of the imploring voices 
 the shipwrecked party sent after them. 
 
 It was a strange scene. The terrified sing- 
 ers hastening back to the village. The crew 
 of the vessel following on as fast as their 
 benumbed limbs would permit. One party 
 shouting in terror ; the other imploring them 
 to stop and listen. [4] 
 
 The noise they made finally aroused the 
 
118 HOW THE CREW OF THE SEA GULL 
 
 people of the village, and lights began to 
 appear at one window and another. Here 
 and there a door was timidly opened, and 
 a head thrust out, inquiring, " What is the 
 matter ? " 
 
 At last,. the carollers, as they reached the 
 main part of the village, took up eourago 
 enough to turn and face the party whom 
 they expected to find with ghastly counte- 
 nances, and skeleton forms. But instead of 
 meeting the dead, they saw the living. In- 
 stead of seeing frightful forms, they saw a 
 party of men coated with sand, — feeble and 
 wet and harmless. 
 
 All the previous terror of the fishermen 
 now became changed to joy, when they saw 
 that their superstitious fears were ground- 
 less, and that they had to deal with living 
 men. It required but a few questions to 
 understand the situation, and in the shortest 
 time the whole village was aroused. 
 
 It did not take long to divide the ship- 
 wrecked party around among the warm- 
 hearted families of the island. It did not 
 
SPENT CHRISTMAS EVE. 119 
 
 take long to build great blazing fires on 
 the hearths. It did not take long to strip 
 off the wet garments, and exchange them 
 for dry ones, and to provide meat and drink 
 for the hungry. 
 
 The Christmas morning had almost dawned 
 before the excitement died down, and the 
 village had sunken again to its wonted quiet. 
 
 Early in the morning, the bent form of 
 the old clergyman who was the pastor of 
 this secluded flock, was seen passing around 
 from house to house to greet the new-comers, 
 and to exhort them to thankfulness to God 
 for their safe deliverance from the perils of 
 the sea. [5.] 
 
 When the hour of service came, every seat 
 in the little chapel was filled, and the choir 
 in the organ gallery was augmented by the 
 crew of the wrecked vessel. New gladness 
 seemed to pervade every heart, and the ser- 
 vice rolled on with deeper impressiveness, 
 for the people seemed to welcome in the 
 persons of the saved crew, the person of the 
 Christ Child, who ever identifies Himself with 
 
120 THE CREW'S CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 the suffering. I wish I could describe to you 
 the singing on that Christmas morning. 
 
 There was no sermon, for the old clergy- 
 man said: "My friends, we will have no ser- 
 mon to-day, for our carollers had a strange 
 interruption last night in their greetings to 
 Christmas Eve — and now they will have op- 
 portunity to finish. Our brethren who have 
 been thrown into our arms by the sea, will 
 help them make melody unto the Lord." 
 
 Then for a whole hour that old wooden 
 chapel rang with the music of old time 
 Christmas carols. [6.] Why, it was a very 
 feast of music. No one stopped to consider 
 how artistic it was, but there was a depth 
 and tone to it all that made the simplest of 
 their songs almost entrancing. 
 
 Why was it so? 
 
 Simply this — the rescue of a few men from 
 the jaws of the mighty deep impressed them 
 all with the mightiness of the greater rescue 
 which He accomplished who became man, 
 and saved us from the death eternal. 
 
AUNT KITTY'S CHRISTMAS TREE 
 
AUNT KITTY'S CHRISTMAS TREE. 
 
 oXKc 
 
 jVERY body called her Aunt Kitty, 
 although in truth she wasn't any 
 body's aunt, at all, for she had not 
 s relative in the world. But she 
 was so good and so kind that any one would 
 have thought it an honor to have claimed 
 kinship with her. She was very poor and 
 very old. The old age she could not help, 
 that had to come ; but the poverty she might 
 have helped, if only she had been a little bit 
 dishonest. Yes, at the time her husband 
 died, shG had the opportunity to save some 
 of the wreck of his property. Some of her 
 advisers told her just how she could conceal 
 it, and the creditors would have been none 
 the wiser. But she gave up every fraction 
 of it, and went out into the world to seek her 
 
121 AUNT KITTY'S CHKIbTMAS TREE. 
 
 own living in her old age, poor, but with no 
 taint of dishonor. She had resisted the great 
 temptation, and her conscience was free from 
 reproaches. 
 
 Few of the people in the village of Bland- 
 stone knew her past history. They only 
 knew her as a poor old body who went ont 
 sewing, and taking care of sick folks. She 
 rented two rooms in a house on a back street, 
 at one end of the village, in a neighborhood 
 where every one was nearly as poor as she 
 was, except that some went into the strug- 
 gle for bread with greater strength than she. 
 But to none of them was the daily bread 
 given by " Our Father in heaven " more un- 
 failingly than to her. She trusted Him, and 
 He saw that she* was fed. Now and then 
 she had more than she needed, and some 
 poor, sick sufferer would be helped from her 
 supply. 
 
 Of course she was a great favorite in the 
 place. Many a one would gladly have of- 
 fered her a home with them, but she pre- 
 ferred keeping her own rooms and her inde 
 
AUNT KITTY'S CHRISTMAS TREE. 125 
 
 pendence, and thus it happened that she 
 lived alone. Not entirely alone, for there 
 were two big cats that purred contentedly 
 beneath her stove, or slept in the sunny win- 
 dows. [1.] Now and then, some wanderer, 
 some child or woman, would find a shelter in 
 her house, for a few days, to be warmed and 
 fed and sent on rejoicing. It was strange 
 how the wanderers found her out, but they 
 did. , If a poor widow was on her way to 
 the city to collect a pension, she was almost 
 sure to find shelter with Aunt Kitty. If 
 some young girl was hunting a place to 
 work, she would make her home with Aunt 
 Kitty until she found one. 
 
 Many were the blessings which were sup- 
 plicated upon her head, and if she did not 
 enjoy them all here, perhaps they await her 
 yonder. Although she had no children ot 
 her own, she was the friend of all children. 
 They stopped their plays to speak to her, — 
 they brought their cuts and burns to her to 
 be bound up — and many a torn jacket and 
 breeches did she mend that the young ciil- 
 
126 AUNT KITTY'S CHRISTMAS TREE. 
 
 prits might not be punished at home for 
 rents that come so mysteriously, but eome 
 so certainly, in a boy's clothes. 
 
 There were some pretty rough boys too 
 in that part of the village, but somehow she 
 had reached their hearts, perhaps through 
 their stomachs, and they were her loyal 
 friends. Many a quarrel among them did 
 she stop, and many a damaged eye did she 
 bandage when the fights were over which 
 she had failed to stop. 
 
 Aunt Kitty got a new idea one day as De- 
 cember was hastening on to Christmas-tide. 
 All at once it occurred to her that she would 
 have a Christmas tree for the poor children 
 of that street. 
 
 Now Christmas trees are usually costly af- 
 fairs when they are all trimmed, as we gen- 
 erally see them. But her tree could not be 
 a costly one. It must bear very inexpen- 
 sive fruit. If her purse had been larger she 
 would have made it a very beautiful tree, or 
 if she bad askoi anv of the c\infih people of 
 
AUNT KITTY'S CHRISTMAS TREE. 127 
 
 the village they had helped her, but she 
 wanted to do the best she could with what 
 she had, and so she kept the whole matter 
 to herself, as she thought, a profound secret. 
 Not even the boys were to know about the 
 tree until Christmas really came. 
 
 The poor old hands were wonderfully busy 
 during those two weeks before Christmas. 
 Little pieces of bright materials, the rem- 
 nants of dresses she had once worn, some- 
 how grew into dolls and dolls' clothing. Out 
 of an old chest she fished up a few pictures 
 and toys which had long lain there undis- 
 turbed. A few little purchases at the vil- 
 lage shop added to the treasures she* was 
 accumulating. Then the smell of baking in- 
 dicated that gingerbreads in wondrous shapes 
 were being made ready. It was hard to sat- 
 isfy the inquisitiveness of the small visitors, 
 whose noses scented the appetizing odors, 
 and who wanted to know what Aunt Kitty 
 was cooking. But no satisfaction could they 
 get. Aunt Kitty had a secret, and she was 
 keeping it, she thought, all to herself, and 
 
128 AUNT KITTY'S CHRISTMAS TREE. 
 
 was preparing a grand surprise for the dozen 
 boys and girls who were her neighbors. [2.] 
 But isn't it hard to keep a secret ? And isn't 
 it strange how they will leak out ? And are 
 not people very shrewd in putting this and 
 that together and guessing a great deal? 
 
 While the old woman was stitching away 
 at dolls and baking gingerbreads, there were 
 three boys who were just as busy planning, 
 and circumventing the scheme which she 
 had been laying out. Perhaps we ought 
 not to say that they were circumventing 
 her scheme; it is true their putting their 
 heads together was going to make a change 
 in it, but we will see how it was presently. 
 
 These three boys were brothers, one was 
 big, another was little, and one Avas neither. 
 They were the sons of a wealthy widow lady 
 who lived in the heart of the village, and 
 were all three of them trying to be a comfort 
 and a joy to their mother. They were chor- 
 isters in the choir of the church, and it 
 seemed to give a greater depth to their 
 mother's devotion as she teard their voices 
 
AUNT KITTY'S CHRISTMAS TREE. 129 
 
 singing week by week in the church services. 
 One day as one of them was in the village 
 store buying a new top, and talking with 
 the queer old man who sold the odd things 
 kept there, Aunt Kitty came in, and with 
 a very mysterious air bought a few toys 
 which she tried in vain to conceal from the 
 sharp eyes of Clarence Wood. [3.] 
 
 "Now what can she want with toys?" 
 thought Clarence. "She don't need them 
 for herself. What is she going to do with 
 them ? " 
 
 Now nothing can exceed the curiosity of 
 a boy, so all the rest of that day he won- 
 dered what Aunt Kitty could be intending 
 to do with those toys. When it became 
 night he told his brothers, John and Frank, 
 and they made up their minds to find out 
 if they could. After many plans had been 
 proposed and discussed they resolved to take 
 up a bag of chestnuts and some apples to 
 Auntie the very next day, and see what 
 she was really going to do with the toys. 
 
 They sust <-oted that she had some good 
 
130 AUNT KITTY'S CHRISTMAS TREE. 
 
 project afoot, and already the desire was 
 springing up in them to help her on with 
 it. . [4] 
 
 But to all their questionings she returned 
 indefinite answers, and they started to go 
 away unsatisfied, but just as they were leav- 
 ing the door they caught sight of the end 
 of a great bunch of cedar peeping out of 
 the cellar window. 
 
 "Aha, I see now," said John. "Aunt Kitty 
 is going to have a Christmas tree." And so 
 they ran home, and set to work as hard as 
 they could to get things ready for that 
 Christmas tree, for they said as they went 
 along — " Let us make it a real jolly tree. 
 It must be for the poor children, and we'll 
 have a hand in it." 
 
 They told their mother, and a few others, 
 and as if by magic great heaping baskets 
 were filled with all sorts of things. 
 
 But as yet they did not know when it 
 was to be, nor how they could get at it. 
 But they were shrewd fellows, and kept 
 their eyes open 
 
AUNT KITTY'S CHRISTMAS TREE. 131 
 
 Finally, on Christmas Eve, they strolled 
 along down by Aunt Kitty's house, and 
 saw that both rooms were lighted up. In 
 the lower room a dozen or so of boys and 
 girls were sitting around, and in the upper 
 .Room they could just distinguish through the 
 white curtain the outline of the Christmas 
 tree on a table near the window. 
 
 "I have it," said Clarence, "we'll run home, 
 get the things, put them on the tree, and then 
 see how the frolic will end." 
 
 So back they went, got the baskets and 
 a ladder, hurried again down the village, 
 and began operations. ' It was a very deli- 
 cate operation, climbing up into the second 
 story, but the house was low, and they had 
 the satisfaction of getting in without making 
 any noise. [5.] They could hear the chil- 
 dren chattering down-stairs, and just as they 
 had fairly laden the poor tree with the many 
 things they had brought, they heard Aunt 
 Kitty say, " Now, children, I'm going to take 
 you up-stairs to show you something that 
 you all will like to see." The boys up-stairs 
 
132 AUNT KITTY'S CHRISTMAS TREE. 
 
 hastily concealed themselves in a closet among 
 the dresses hanging there, and had just time 
 to do so, as Aunt Kitty came in, with the 
 children flocking after her. Now you must 
 remember that when the good old auntie 
 had last seen the tree it was almost bare. 
 The few things she had been able to make 
 ready were by no means enough to cover 
 its many branches. But now what a change ! 
 It was fairly loaded down ! Caps and scarfs, 
 gloves and stockings, dolls and skates — why, 
 almost every thing you could think of was 
 fastened to it. 
 
 With an exclamation of surprise, as great 
 as that the children themselves raised, she 
 ran to the table. 
 
 Who had been in her room? Who had 
 brought these things? Was there really a 
 Santa Claus? [6.] 
 
 And there she stood amazed. Her senses 
 seemed to have deserted her. She thought 
 it all a dream, but the noisy shouts of the 
 children roused her to herself, and she said; 
 "Dear children. I oar. not tell how it is. I 
 
AUNT KITTY'S CHRISTMAS TREE. 133 
 
 made ready a few things for you, but the 
 good Lord in some strange way has sent 
 all this." 
 
 What else she would have said no one 
 knows, for just at that moment, bang went 
 something against the closet door, and out 
 rolled Clarence on the floor. He had not 
 been able to contain his mirth, and in a fit 
 of laughter had leaned too hard against the 
 door, and open it came, rolling him out on 
 the floor. [7.] . 
 
 Auntie saw through the plan now at once, 
 and, although she had been frightened at 
 first, she added very calmly, "Yes, the good 
 Lord has sent the things, and these are his 
 agents." 
 
 Well we need not stop to "tell how the cul- 
 prits gained her pardon for getting into her 
 house, nor what a happy time there was in 
 distributing the gifts. There was a rich 
 abundance for all the children, and many a 
 comfort for the good auntie herself. 
 
 But another surprise was in store for them 
 all, and this time the three bovs were as 
 
134 AUNT KITTY'S CHRISTMAS TREE. 
 
 much surprised as the rest, for after the last 
 of the gifts had been distributed, they came 
 down-stairs to find it filled with some of the 
 good people of the village who had quietly 
 come in, bringing baskets laden with good 
 things. There were groceries, and wood, 
 and new dresses, and a warm cloak. Why, 
 Aunt Kitty was quite fitted out for the long 
 winter. [8.] 
 
 With the tears streaming down her eyes, 
 she said to her unexpected guests, "The 
 Lord bless you all for your kindness, and 
 may the dear Christ make you all as happy 
 as you have made me." 
 
 M) 
 
 ^^ 
 
REUBEN REUBENSON'S CHRISTMAS 
 EVE. 
 
Wr/'/k 
 
REUBEN REUBENSON'S CHRISTMAS 
 EVE. 
 
 EUBEN REUBENSON was a cress, 
 crusty bachelor, who had some- 
 how managed to reach his fiftieth 
 year in selfishness and solitude. 
 He claimed kinship with no one living, 
 and no one cared particularly to claim kin- 
 ship with him. 
 
 He was rich in this world's goods, but be- 
 yond managing his bank accounts, and keep- 
 ing a sharp eye upon some property interests, 
 he had no business. 
 
 Neither had he any settled home, but float- 
 ed about from place to place as his own 
 capricious fancy prompted him. 
 
 Now he was here — now he was there. 
 Why he was here rather than there, or 
 why he was there rather than here, it would 
 
138 REUBEN REUUENSON'S 
 
 have puzzled any one to tell. Sometimes he 
 himself could not tell. The slightest reason 
 was sufficient to make him change his abode. 
 A disagreeable rainy spell, the sight of some 
 poor cripple, an appeal for help, a crying 
 baby, a badly prepared dinner, would lead 
 him to pack up his trunk and move off. 
 
 Owing to these frequent changes of resi- 
 dence, few people knew him well, although 
 his face and his oddities were well known to 
 many, and they spoke of him as the queer, 
 unhappy old man, who was always on the 
 wing. 
 
 For a few weeks before a certain Christmas 
 season, he had been spending his time very 
 quietly, and, for him, very comfortably, in a 
 pleasant boarding place in the town of Ross; 
 but his comfort was utterly destroyed by the 
 arrival of some Christmas guests at the house 
 where he was staying. 
 
 These guests were the country aunts and 
 cousins of the keeper of the boarding-house, 
 and had come to see the sights and to spend 
 a merry Christmas together. 
 
 TV. 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE. 139 
 
 They brought with them a baby, a blessed 
 baby. Now it has been said that a babe in 
 the house is a well-spring of pleasure; but 
 this baby did not prove to be entirely so. 
 It was one of those irrepressible creatures 
 with strong lungs, and he knew how to use 
 them. 
 
 Without any warning by previous whim- 
 pers of discontent, gradually rising by a cres- 
 cendo movement to a generous volume of 
 sound, this baby was capable of uttering his 
 howls of protest suddenly, savagely, and of 
 prolonging them until almost all memory 
 of other sounds was obliterated, and there 
 seemed to be nothing vocal in all the world 
 but that one red-faced creature. 
 
 Mr. Reubenson had no sooner heard one 
 of the shrill, startling yells, then he began 
 to pack up his trunk to go. 
 
 In vain the landlady protested against his 
 leaving. No arguments, no appeals, could 
 induce him to change his mind. Go he 
 would. 
 
 She offered to ohange hip room, to send 
 
140 REUBEN REUBENSON'S 
 
 the baby home as soon as she could, but it 
 was all of no avail. Even her offer to admin- 
 ister sedatives, ad libitum, to the baby fell 
 upon deaf ears, and at length, growing out 
 of all patience with her boarder, she declared 
 that she had offered to do every thing except 
 to strangle the child, but she had not prom- 
 ised that, for she thought if any one stood 
 in need of strangling, it was Mr. Reubenson 
 himself. 
 
 Now, putting things as mildly as possible, 
 this was rather a savage remark to make, 
 even to a crusty old bachelor; and it hast- 
 ened very greatly the packing of his trunk. 
 
 Before another hour he was on his way to 
 the railway station. When he reached there, 
 he was all uncertain which route to take. 
 
 There had been an accident a short time 
 before on the Black Creek R. R., and his fears 
 would not let him go over that route. On 
 the Lake Shore road he had once been great- 
 ly disgusted at the conduct of an official, and 
 hence that way was out of the question. 
 
 In very desperation be concluded to try a 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE. 141 
 
 new road which had just been opened, al- 
 though with the country through which it 
 ran he was entirely unacquainted. 
 
 However there was no choice now, so find- 
 ing a train about ready to start, he pulled out 
 his pocket-book, took from it a bank-bill, and 
 resolved to buy a ticket for as far as that 
 bank-bill would carry him. 
 
 It was an odd way to select one's place of 
 destination, but he was an odd man. 
 
 The ticket agent took the bill, and as 
 saw its amount said interrogatively, " 
 want to go to Brierake?" 
 
 "What is the fare?" 
 
 "Just right," was the reply, and the ticket 
 was received. 
 
 Now Mr. Reubenson knew about as much 
 concerning any place called Brierake as he 
 did of the mountains in the moon. It might 
 have been a country village, it might have 
 been a cross road's station, for all he knew; 
 but " all aboard " shouted the conductor, and 
 our traveller started for Brierake, little dream- 
 ing of the Htavf;' s incidents that av.alt'.-d hun 
 
142 REUBEN REUBENSON'S 
 
 at the end of his winter's journey, or of the 
 great change that would come over him be- 
 fore he came back. 
 
 The day passed as most winter days pass 
 in railway cars. The short afternoon had 
 faded away and the early evening was creep- 
 ing on when he was landed at Brierake 
 station. 
 
 There was little of the village or of any set- 
 tlement whatever to be seen. A plain, un- 
 painted station-house, a heavy, awkward sled 
 drawn by two sleepy horses muffled up in 
 their blankets', a queer-looking teamster, and 
 an old woman with a market basket and the 
 inevitable bandbox — these were the objects 
 that met his gaze. Upon inquiring of the 
 teamster, he learned that the village itself 
 was some three miles away, and that the 
 only way to get there was by taking pas^ 
 sage in the sled. He would have grumbled 
 if he could have seen any use in grumbling, 
 then and there, but it is dull work to grum- 
 ble on the platform of a way station on a 
 cold winter's evening, so he mounted the 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE. 143 
 
 seat of the sled, pulled up the collar of his 
 overcoat, wrapped around his knees the old, 
 torn buffalo robe which the driver handed 
 him, declined the offer made by the old wo- 
 man with the bandbox to take a pinch of 
 snuff — and then resigned himself to what 
 he thought would be a dreary three miles 
 ride. 
 
 But it wasn't dreary at all. The horses 
 awoke from their sleep at the cheery call of 
 the driver, and dashed off smartly Avith vi- 
 sions of oats and hay and a warm stable be- 
 fore them. The bells jingled merrily. The 
 moon began to rise and flood the earth with 
 a silvery beauty. Presently a turn in the 
 road revealed a most lovely landscape. The 
 fields and road covered with snow, and a 
 green border of tall cedars. The traveller 
 found his spirits rising with every inch of 
 the way, and did what was for him an ex- 
 ceedingly gracious thing: he asked the old 
 woman by his side if she were warm enough. 
 
 She was a garrulous old body, and the 
 simple question put to her launched her forth 
 
144 REUBEN REUBENSON'S 
 
 into an extended account of herself and all 
 her family, which account went on and on 
 and on, and seemed to promise no ending. 
 But tedious as would have been her talk at 
 any other time, Mr. Reubenson found him- 
 self listening to it with respectful attention. 
 What spell was coming over him that he 
 could thus patiently listen so long to an old 
 woman's story? 
 
 Presently they came to the bank of a little 
 frozen stream, over whose slippery surface a 
 merry group of skaters were gliding with 
 graceful movements and cheery shouts. 
 
 So charming was the picture they thus 
 presented in the moonlight that he was 
 almost on the point of asking the driver to 
 stop awhile that he might enjoy the scene; 
 but now the lights of the village beyond be- 
 gan to flash forth, and the horses went dash- 
 ing on faster and faster, until before he real- 
 ized it they had drawn up in front of an old 
 inn — one of the quaintest hostleries he had 
 ever seen. 
 
 Its parts seemed ''oined together in a rara- 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE. 145 
 
 bling sort of way without any particular de- 
 sign, but betwixt the ruddy lights from its 
 windows and the moonbeams which streamed 
 upon it, and the white snow which covered 
 its roof and sheds, it bore no small resem- 
 blance to a place of enchantment. 
 
 It could not be called an enchanted pal- 
 ace, nor could Keuben Reubenson be called 
 the prince w r ho had come to awaken the 
 sleepers. It was only an old inn upon a 
 winter's night, brightened up by moonlight 
 and firelight; and he was only a crusty old 
 bachelor whom some good influence, what 
 it was he could not tell, was thawing out, 
 and making more mellow and more sweet 
 than hitherto. 
 
 It is needless to describe how the hungry 
 man devoured the supper so quickly spread 
 for him, or with what comfort he ensconced 
 himself in the great arm-chair before the 
 fireplace in which there was blazing a wood 
 fire large enough to roast an ox, provided the 
 ox was not very large. 
 
 Tiicro he sat and watched the flames. 
 
146 REUBEN REUBENSON'S 
 
 Presently the fire as it crackled and darted 
 out its long tongues, and danced before him, 
 seemed wondrously suggestive of just such 
 a chimney-place where he had sat many 
 years ago, when he was one of a happy 
 family of brothers and sisters in a far-off 
 home. And he mused of the days so long 
 gone, and of the forms which had been 
 warmed at the fire of that old home. 
 
 What had come over him to so unlock the 
 memories of the past? For years he had 
 sealed up these recollections, and by strong 
 effort of will had remanded them back; but 
 now how he welcomed their coming ! 
 
 His thoughts grew so busy with the past 
 that he peopled again the chimney-place 
 with the departed, and it was as if he were 
 home again. Now a tear went stealing down 
 his cheek as he recalled the joy of that home, 
 and now his lips opened as if he would speak 
 to those who had sat there long ago with 
 him. [1.] 
 
 The hours sped by, and still he watched 
 the fire, and thought of the past, until just 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE. 147 
 
 as he was falling off into a sleep there came 
 a burst of music. [2.] 
 
 It startled him. He jumped up from hia 
 chair. Where could it have come from ? 
 
 And in his bewilderment he stopped to see 
 if the chimney were really alive, or if the 
 crackling fire upon the hearth had become 
 melodious in honor of the nearing festival. 
 But soon the music grew louder and clearer, 
 and presently there rang out in joyous notes 
 the sweet voices of a score or so of young 
 people in the street outside singing their 
 Christmas carols. [3.] 
 
 Now Reuben Reubenson ordinarily had but 
 little ear for music. Once he had, but he had 
 let the sweet sounds within him die out, and 
 even children's voices had become but a wor- 
 ry to him. But to-night he had passed into 
 a strange region. He had been led, he 
 scarcely knew how, and the spell of the 
 place and of the time was upon him. lie 
 listened greedily, especially as he thought 
 that the tones of the voices were wondrous- 
 ly like those of his own brothers and sisters 
 
148 REUBEN REUBENSON'S 
 
 in the home of long ago. Carol after carol 
 rang forth upon the crispy air. [4] 
 
 Such exuberance of joy, such unrestrained 
 gladness he had rarely heard thrown into 
 songs before. They seemed to renew his 
 youth, and to melt off the icy crust of selfish- 
 ness which had gathered with his manhood. 
 
 The carol singers outside, all unconscious 
 of the effect of their singing, only thinking 
 of the gladness of the festival, uttered forth 
 their joy that the Christ was born of Mary 
 in David's town. [5.] 
 
 Presently they passed away, still singing. 
 
 The sound of their voices grew fainter and 
 fainter, until they seemed as a gentle lullaby 
 which a mother might .sing over her sleeping 
 child. [6.] And as a lullaby did the vanish- 
 ing sounds become to him, for beneath their 
 soothing influence he sank to sleep. 
 
 But it had been strange if one so moved 
 as he had been had slept soundly that night 
 in his chair before the fire. 
 
 His body only seemed unconscious, while a 
 thousand recollections rushed through his 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE. 149 
 
 busy brain. He seemed to be living over 
 again his boyhood days, waiting with boyish 
 impatience the coming of Christmas Day. 
 He saw himself as a boy lying awake upon 
 Christmas Eve in his bed in the old home, 
 hoping, yet dreading, that he might see 
 Santa Claus come down the chimney. 
 
 Then he seemed to be again one of the 
 merry group of children whose delighted eyes 
 looked upon the Christmas tree laden with its 
 strange stores of wonderful fruit. [8.] 
 
 Then he thought himself again at church in 
 England, and heard the old hymn, "0 come 
 all ye faithful," which he and the other choris- 
 ters sang as they marched up the long aisle 
 of the church on Christmas mornings. [9.] 
 
 And as he dreamed on there, how real it 
 all seemed — those happy boyhood days before 
 he had grown up to a selfish manhood; but 
 his mind travelled on, and in his dreams he 
 saw himself leaving his home to better his 
 fortunes, and with bettered fortunes losing 
 the impressions of home, and forgetting the 
 holy things he had learned. 
 
irO REUBEN REUBENSON'S 
 
 He watched the gradual growth of selfish- 
 ness, and the dying out of the spring and 
 hopefulness of early manhood, until there 
 arose before him a picture of what he was 
 then, that Christmas Eve, a cold, ice-bound, 
 self-indulgent man, with no aims and no 
 hopes. 
 
 It was a repulsive picture, and yet he was 
 under the influence of some power that made 
 him look upon it in all of its repulsiveness. 
 And as he looked, so painful did the view be- 
 come, that he awoke with a start from his 
 dream to find the fire growing low on the 
 hearth, and himself shivering with cold and 
 with dread of the horrible picture his dreams 
 had brought to him. 
 
 There was no more sleep for him all the 
 rest of that long winter's night. He paced 
 the floor and thought. He knelt down by 
 his chair and prayed. He buried his face in 
 his hands and wept. Then he resolved that, 
 through the grace of God, he would be a 
 better man. He thought of the children who 
 had sung their carols before his window, and 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE. 151 
 
 longed to be as happy and as innocent as 
 they. Then he began to plan what he would 
 do to make amends for thirty years of selfish- 
 ness and neglect — how he might give back 
 to God some portion of a life which should 
 all have been God's — how he might break 
 through the icy bands which froze his sym- 
 pathies up from his fellow -men and help 
 along the echo of the angels' song — " Glory 
 to God — peace, good-will to man." 
 
 It was a memorable night in the history of 
 Reuben Reubenson. The hours sped along, 
 but he heeded neither the darkness nor the 
 cold. His mind was too busy. 
 
 His heart was too deeply stirred. His one 
 great yearning was for pardon for the past, 
 and for God's blessing for the future that he 
 might end his days making others happy 
 
 " I will have an aim in living and it 
 shall be a noble one. So help me God," 
 he said. 
 
 What a bright Christmas morning was 
 that which dawned! The stars went out 
 
152 REUBEN REUBENSON'S 
 
 one by one, as lamps no longer needed, as 
 the day began. 
 
 The gray tints touched the hill-tops, and 
 then the red tints of the rising sun bathed 
 the snow in crimson. [10.] 
 
 Presently the soft, low tones of a bell fell 
 upon his ear, announcing that pious souls 
 were assembling to greet the Christmas morn- 
 ing with r holy rites and hymns and prayers. 
 
 Passing forth from his room, he followed 
 the sound of the bell, and found himself in 
 the little chapel whose interior was bright 
 with the adornments of evergreen which 
 busy hands had grouped around arches and 
 windows. 
 
 Not a soul did he know there among those 
 who had come to worship, and yet he felt 
 that he would meet his Lord there to Whom 
 his vows had been renewed that Christmas 
 Eve. 
 
 None knelt more reverently in prayer to 
 Him who had come into the world a little 
 child, who had taught men the beauty of 
 self-sacrifice ml the glory of a holy life. 
 
CHRlSTMAb EVE. 153 
 
 To none of the worshippers was bestowed 
 «o large a measure of grace, for the battle 
 Reuben Reubenson was to fight was with 
 himself. It was to be against the long years 
 of hardness and selfishness, and he needed 
 especial help from God. 
 
 When the service was over, and the min- 
 ister was counting over the offerings which 
 had that morning been presented, there was 
 found among them in the alms-basin four 
 one hundred dollar bills, new, and crispy in 
 their newness, wrapt up in a leaf torn from 
 a memorandum-book. 
 
 Upon the leaf was written in a tremulous 
 hand with pencil these words: — "An offering 
 to God for his goodness in leading me, partly 
 through the sweet voices of the children of 
 this place, to see the folly of a life of selfish- 
 ness. And in further token of my desire to 
 spend the remainder of my days to the glory 
 of God and for the welfare of men, I prom- 
 ise to contribute a like amount each year, to 
 be employed in training the children of this 
 church to sing hymns and carols at Christ- 
 
154 REUBEN REUBENSON. 
 
 mas-tide, and in any other way the minister 
 may think best to keep young hearts from 
 the icy bands of selfisnness which so long 
 held sway over me." 
 The paper was signed — 
 
 "Keuben Keubenson." 
 
THE MIDNIGH Y CHIMES. 
 
THE MIDNIGHT CHIMES. 
 
 o*Kc 
 
 I. THE CHIME-RINGER S STATEMENT. 
 
 OU see, three of us, Tom, Ed, and I, 
 Avent up into the church tower on 
 Christmas Eve to ring the bells 
 for Christmas. 
 It was about a quarter of an hour before 
 midnight when we went up. 
 
 There wasn't a soul about when we entered 
 the church. It was lively work ringing the 
 bells, and we pealed out carol after carol for 
 nearly an hour, until we thought if we were 
 to be in church again that morning we ought 
 to get home and go to sleep. When we came 
 down the tower stairs Tom was carrying the 
 lantern. Just as he got to the last step, says 
 he, "Let's look in the church and see if the 
 folks finished putting up the greens." 
 
158 THE MIDNIGHT CHIMES. 
 
 As he said this he turned the bull's-eye 
 of the lantern towards the chancel, but in- 
 stantly he jumped back. 
 
 "What's the matter?" I said. 
 
 Says he, " See there ! Bless me, if it ain't 
 a man or a ghost ! " 
 
 " Pshaw ! ' Ed says, " guess you're sleepy 
 and dreaming. Else you've seen your own 
 shadow." 
 
 Well, we stood there till Tom made his 
 lantern brighter, and sure enough there was 
 a man lying down on the floor, way up near 
 the front of the church. I tell you now I 
 felt rather queer over it. How did he get 
 in ? What did he want ? 
 
 There was no use standing looking, so we 
 plucked up courage and walked up, keeping 
 pretty close to each other. Was he asleep? 
 Was he dead? He was lying on his face 
 with his hands stretched out before him. I 
 thought he was dead, but Tom shook him 
 by the shoulder, ,and he slowly raised his 
 head. He was a young fellow like one of 
 lis but he was awful weak and sick-looking 
 
THE MIDNIGHT CHIMES. 159 
 
 " What are you doing here ? " I asked. 
 
 All the answer he gave was a groan, and 
 down went his head on the floor again. 
 Well, we tried to rouse him up, but he 
 seemed to be in a fainting fit; and Ed 
 thought we had better sprinkle water over 
 him, or do something. But you see we 
 didn't know what to do, and we couldn't 
 find any water. And there we stood around 
 the young fellow in the church, early that 
 Christmas morning. The bull's-eye lantern 
 seemed to make the shadows of the arches 
 jump around as if they were alive, and the 
 evergreens the ladies had put up, made it 
 seem awful odd. I declare, I wished I was 
 home and in bed, and made up my mind 
 that there were a great many things pleas- 
 anter than finding a strange man in a faint- 
 ing fit on a church floor, early on Christmas 
 morning. 
 
 Something had to be done, so we picked 
 him up and carried him over to the hospital, 
 and left him there. When we came away, 
 the doctors were rubbing him, and forcing 
 
160 THE MIDNIGHT CHIMES. 
 
 medicine down his throat, but he couldn't 
 speak yet, and we don't know who he is, or 
 what he wanted. His pockets were empty, 
 and his clothes were pretty well worn out. 
 He did not look like a hard drinking fellow, 
 but he appeared to have seen hard times for 
 a young chap. 
 And that's all I know about it. 
 
 II. THE DOCTOR'S STATEMENT. 
 
 Early on Christmas morning, just after I 
 had fallen to sleep again after having been 
 wakened up by the ringing of the Christmas 
 chime, there came a tremendous rapping at 
 the hospital door, and I hastened down to 
 see who was there. I found three young 
 fellows, who had been ringing the church 
 bells, supporting an emaciated man evident- 
 ly not over twenty-five years old, who seemed 
 to be in a condition of great exhaustion. They 
 had found him in the church. 
 
 After a thorough examination, I found no 
 wounds or evidences of disease. He seemed 
 to be simply worn out by hunger, fatigue, 
 
THE MIDNIGHT CHIMES. ltfi 
 
 and trouble. It was a long time before I 
 could induce him to speak, but towards day 
 dawn he seemed to rouse up a little, and 
 looking wildly around exclaimed: 
 
 " The Christmas Bells ! Thank God ! " 
 For some hours after this he remained in 
 an insensible condition, and then began slow- 
 ly, but steadily, to regain strength. He main- 
 tained silence as to his antecedents for a long 
 time, but expressed great gratitude for our 
 efforts in his behalf. At length, just as the 
 bells began to ring for the services on Christ- 
 mas Day, he seemed to be greatly agitated, 
 and at my urgent solicitation, gave me an 
 outline of his story. It was a sad story. 
 
 He was of good family in England, but 
 owing to a quarrel, or some difficulty which 
 he had had, he suddenly left home for the 
 new world. Reaching here, a course of dis- 
 sipation soon used up his means, and after 
 begging his way from village to village, he 
 reached here on Christmas Eve nearly ready 
 to die and finding the church door open, 
 crept in, and was found there by the boll- 
 
162 THE MIDNIGHT CHIMES. 
 
 ringers, as they have described. He has pre- 
 pared the following message, which he has 
 entreated me to send by the cable at once 
 to his home in England: "Mother and Mary, 
 come ! Saved from ruin and death by the 
 Christmas Chime." I am on my way now 
 to send it, and he is to stay here until an 
 answer is received. 
 
 III. THE PATIENT'S STORY. 
 
 I have told the kind doctor only part ot 
 my eventful history, but how can I longer 
 refuse to tell him all? He has gone with 
 the telegram that will summon to me the 
 two whom I love best in all this world. 
 Ah! how now I realize my love for them, 
 and also my deep ingratitude ! A year ago 
 my prospect in life so bright that I was one 
 of the happiest of men. My studies were 
 completed and I was on the point of being 
 admitted to the bar, but in an evil hour I 
 was led into temptation, and in less than 
 six months had contracted the habit of in- 
 toxication. I recall now the anxiety and 
 
THE MIDNIGHT CHIMES. 163 
 
 tears of my mother, and the bitter grief of 
 the dear wife to whom I had plighted my 
 troth. 
 
 Going home one night in a condition bor- 
 dering closely upon delirium, their gentle 
 expostulations roused the demon within me, 
 and I struck them both. My gentle mother 
 and my loving wife ! Oh, I could cut off the 
 hand that gave the cruel blows. I knew not 
 what else I did, but as the morning broke, 
 and as I awoke from sleep, the sense of 
 shame so overwhelmed me that I crammed 
 hastily into my valise a few articles of wear- 
 ing apparel, made my way to the nearest 
 port, and took a steamer for America. On 
 the voyage my conscience lashed me so that 
 it seemed there would never be any way to 
 quiet its reproof. I shunned the company 
 of my fellow-voyagers, and in a condition 
 of alternate stupor and delirium got some- 
 how through the weary days. 
 
 I reached Boston without plans or aims, 
 and in a conditio]' of desperation. There I 
 was, an utter stranger, it was early in De- 
 
164 THE MIDNIGHT CHIMES. 
 
 cember, and the weather was growing bitter 
 cold. I could not rest in any place, but- 
 roamed from town to city, spending whole 
 days and nights in dissipation, until at length 
 my money gave out and I became a beggar. 
 Yes, a beggar ! I, the son of affluence, with 
 wealth at home, begged my bread from door 
 to door. I could not work, I cared not to 
 work. Spending my days in plodding along 
 the frozen highway, stopping now and then 
 at a farmhouse to get a morsel to keep me 
 from starving, and sleeping in barns and 
 cattle sheds, the year drew towards its end, 
 and I saw everywhere the preparations for 
 Merry Christmas. How the sight of the joy 
 of others maddened me ! I knew that at 
 home there would be but little joy in one 
 house which my' sin had darkened. I knew 
 that for the first time since my father's death 
 my poor old mother would find her son's 
 place vacant at the table, and my young 
 wife would recall the happiness of past days 
 when we had kept the festival together. 
 Christmas Eve found me on the highway. 
 
THE MIDNIGHT CHIMES. 165 
 
 I was tired, hungry, and well-nigh distracted. 
 The wintry winds blew keenly, and I thought 
 I would freeze but for the maddening fever 
 that kept my brain on fire. On and on I 
 walked. I had no thought of stopping to 
 rest. No thought but to .go on and on. At 
 last I saw the lights of a town, and they 
 were few and far between, for it was well 
 on towards midnight, and the bustle of the 
 evening had quieted now. Here and there 
 I saw a lighted window, and peering through 
 the windows saw them making preparations 
 for the morrow. 
 
 But hurrying on, I came to a bridge over a 
 swift stream. The moon was rising, and al- 
 though I was so absorbed in my own mourn- 
 ful thoughts that I scarcely saw the planks 
 of the bridge, I noticed just over the edge, 
 one place where the ice had not formed. 
 There was a swift eddy whirling round and 
 round. Somehow it fascinated me. I stopped 
 to look. Hands that beckoned me seemed to 
 be stretched out of the water. Instantly the 
 thought of suicide entered rr.y brain! I bad 
 
166 THE MIDNIGHT CHIMES. 
 
 never thought of it before, but now it took 
 possession of me. There was the opening 
 in the ice just over the edge of the bridge. 
 I walked to the railing and mounted it, ready 
 for the fatal spring. 
 
 I had no other thought than self-destruc- 
 tion — but at that very instant, just as I was 
 poising myself to leap into the water, the 
 bells in a neighboring church pealed forth a 
 merry Christmas carol, and the clocks of the 
 town struck twelve. Christinas had dawned. 
 I was saved ! The demon hands in the water 
 seemed to sink out of sight, and I sprang 
 back again to the roadway of the bridge, 
 shuddering at the awful crime I had been 
 on the point of committing. 
 
 I rushed on over the bridge. Some im- 
 pulse, I know not what — was it not a guar- 
 dian angel? — led me on and on down the 
 street to the church from whose tower there 
 were pealing forth sweet strains of music. 1 
 stopped now and then to listen. They were 
 playing the same old carols we used to sing at 
 home. What a flood of memory they brought 
 
THE MIDNIGHT CHIMES. 1G7 
 
 back? In a little while I reached the church. 
 I had no thought of entering it, but behold, 
 the door was ajar, and I went in. It was 
 all dark within, and without knowing why 
 I did so, I groped my way along towards 
 the chancel, up the broad alley. I could see 
 nothing, it was so dark; but I could feel the 
 warmth of the fires, and could smell the odor 
 of the hemlock boughs with which the arches 
 were decked. 
 
 Slowly groping my way along, I reached 
 the chancel step. My foot struck against it, 
 and I fell forward on my knees. I did not 
 intend to kneel there to pray. I fell there, 
 or rather God's angel put me there, and as I 
 raised my eyes, the moon which had been ris- 
 ing, had reached a point whence her beams 
 shone suddenly through one of the pictured 
 windows of the chancel. It was like a vi- 
 sion from heaven! Upon that window was 
 the full length representation of the merci- 
 ful Christ. What tenderness was in His face 
 — what pleading love ! I could not resist the 
 impulse to cry out — 
 
168 THE MIDNIGHT CHIMES. 
 
 " Lord, have mercy upon me a sinner ! " 
 
 The fountain was unsealed. Never before 
 in my agony had I thought of pardon, but 
 new hope sprang up as I looked upon that 
 pictured window and thought of Him whose 
 mercy and love it shadowed forth. From the 
 very depths of my soul I prayed. I know 
 not what words I said, nor how long I re- 
 mained there. At intervals I could hear the 
 chime still ringing, but presently its sounds 
 became fainter and fainter. I thought I was 
 dying, and with one last effort of strength, 
 stretched out my hands towards heaven, and 
 knew nothing more until I awoke here. 
 
 Blessings, rich blessings, rest forever upon 
 those whose benefaction placed that chime 
 of bells in the church tower. Blessings upon 
 those who rung them that Christmas morning, 
 for had it not been for the sweet carol that 
 floated out at midnight, I had been a suicide. 
 
 And now, if strength be given me, I must 
 undo the evil I have done. I know that 
 Mary and mother will come to me. Should 
 I live to see them, God's name be praised. 
 
THE MIDNIGHT CHIMES. 169 
 
 THE DOCTOR'S POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 About the close of January, an elderly 
 lady, and one much younger, came to the 
 hospital. I felt at once that they had come 
 for my patient. I said nothing, but pointed 
 to his room. There was a scream, but not 
 of pain. It was too full of gladness for that. 
 My patient is growing stronger every day, 
 and I suppose he will leave us by the mid- 
 dle of February. 
 
 I hold in my hands a noble gift the moth- 
 er has bestowed upon the hospital. It is a 
 check to cover the cost of a new window 
 for the chapel of the hospital, to be an exact 
 copy of the pictured window which had so 
 much to do with her son's history that Christ- 
 mas morning, and another check to reward 
 most liberally the three young men who rang 
 the bells at midnight — the bells that carried 
 God's message to the poor soul so close to 
 destruction. 
 
GAINING BY LOSING. 
 
GAINING BY LOSING. 
 
 oXKc 
 
 I. CHRISTMAS IN PROSPERITY. 
 
 DWARD WOETHINGTON, a weal- 
 thy New York merchant, was on 
 the high road to becoming a mil- 
 lionaire. Every thing he touched 
 seemed to turn to gold. His friends mar- 
 velled at his daring ventures, but applauded 
 the success that always came. 
 
 His home, in the most aristocratic quarter 
 of the city, was as luxurious as could well be 
 imagined, and was almost a treasure house of 
 costly adornments and works of art. His 
 family consisted of his wife and two daugh- 
 ters. At the time this story opens, the latter 
 had just graduated from a fashionable board- 
 ing-school. 
 
 Their accomplishments were of the usual 
 
174 GAINING BY LOSING. 
 
 order of girls brought up without any spe- 
 cial aim in life except to pursue the round 
 of fashionable amusements. 
 
 They were not at all to blame for this, for 
 their parents had never tried to inspire them 
 with any higher ambition than to carry them- 
 selves creditably in society as the daughters 
 of a successful merchant with the command 
 of almost unlimited wealth. 
 
 At school they had been courted and flat- 
 tered by their companions, and every thing 
 had been made as easy as possible for them 
 by their teachers. 
 
 It would have been strange indeed if, un- 
 der all the circumstances, they had developed 
 any thing but weak, selfish dispositions. 
 
 Their mother was a weak, selfish woman, 
 and their father's wisdom and energy found 
 their scope only in his business. 
 
 His home life included no care for his 
 family beyond surrounding them with what 
 wealth would buy, and what would fit them 
 for such society as that in which they moved. 
 
 It was a family without religious princi- 
 
GAINING BY LOSING. 175 
 
 pies. It is true that now and then they at- 
 tended some church, but they had no interest 
 in practical religion, and were living only for 
 this world. 
 
 The winter of 18 — found them in the 
 height of their prosperity preparing for a 
 grand party at their house on Christmas 
 Eve. They selected this time for the party 
 not from any interest they felt in Christmas 
 itself, but because it was a season of gayety 
 in their circle, and because they could then 
 secure the presence of a great throng. 
 
 They were determined to make it a great 
 affair, and if possible to eclipse all the sim- 
 ilar occasions in which they had taken part 
 in the earlier portion of the season. 
 
 Invitations were sent out to hundreds. 
 The decorators, the caterers, and others were 
 given carte blanche, and for some weeks there 
 was quite a hum of busy preparation for the 
 Worthington's Christmas party. 
 
 How shall I describe the magnificence of 
 that occasion? You can imagine the beau- 
 tiful residence brilliantly lighted; the profu- 
 
176 GAINING BY LOSING. 
 
 sion of rare flowers and plants in the halls 
 and stairways and wherever else they could 
 be put; the rooms crowded with guests, the 
 strains of music from the band, the dancing, 
 the supper, and the buzz of talk that went 
 on from the many who had accepted the 
 rich man's bidding to the feast. 
 
 As such gatherings go it was a great suc- 
 cess. It was successful even when compared 
 with the many brilliant assemblies held in 
 such a city as New York. 
 
 Money makes many friends, and money 
 buys much splendor. Here there was no 
 lack of either, so that when the party was 
 over the Worthingtons had reason to con- 
 gratulate themselves upon having fairly out- 
 shone their neighbors, and were as happy as 
 people usually are under such circumstances. 
 
 The Christmas bells rang out their calls to 
 prayer and praise while the tired family 
 were sleeping off the effects of the previous 
 evening's fatigue and excitement. 
 
 No one in that home responded to the 
 call, and no one's heart there thrilled with 
 
GAINING BY LOSING. 177 
 
 joy over the story of a Saviour's birth. 
 They would have resented the charge of 
 being heathen, but after all was it not a 
 heathenish life they lived? 
 
 What was it to them that One had been 
 born in a manger? 
 
 What was it to them that He had taught 
 men to be self-denying, and to trust not in 
 uncertain riches? 
 
 Although they lived in a Christian land, 
 there had not up to this time entered into 
 their lives any thing that distinguished them 
 from those who had never heard of Christ 
 and of His salvation. 
 
 The Christmas festival was to them only 
 a time of mirth and rejoicing, of exchang- 
 ing gifts, and of compliance with the world's 
 usages. It had no religious significance. 
 
 And so that Christmas time passed away. 
 
178 GAINING BY LOSING. 
 
 II. CHRISTMAS IN ADVERSITY. 
 
 No one of the many guests who crowded 
 the house of Mr. Worthington on that Christ- 
 mas Eve could have fancied so great a change 
 as that which took place in the fortunes of 
 the merchant before a year passed away. 
 His wealth seemed so secure, his sagacity 
 so great, that however probable it was that 
 other men might be submerged under the 
 wave of financial troubles, none thought that 
 he could be injured. And yet when the wave 
 passed it left Mr. Worthington a poor man. 
 His vast possessions were swept away, and 
 he was utterly ruined. It is hard to describe 
 just how the calamity fell upon him. It was 
 one of those sudden, unexpected events that 
 no one can accurately recount. 
 
 He had grown very bold in his ventures, 
 had put his whole estate into the risk, and 
 was amazed when the result was so differ- 
 ent from what all the probabilities had in- 
 dicated. 
 
 It was not an ordinary failure, but a thor- 
 
GAINING BY LOSING. 179 
 
 ough sweeping' away of all that he had. 
 His house and its contents, his securities, 
 his business, every thing had to go. lie 
 had staked heavily, and if the result had 
 been as he wished he would have been a 
 millionaire, but it was just the opposite. He 
 had not shown ordinary prudence. He made 
 the one awful, fatal blunder and lost his all. 
 
 His obligations were so far beyond his re- 
 sources that the latter seemed small indeed, 
 and his creditors, alarmed lest his failure 
 should lead to the failure of others, were 
 clamorous for settlement, and would accept 
 no compromise. 
 
 It might have been possible under some 
 circumstances to have saved enough, by the 
 favor of his creditors, to have enabled him 
 to go on again, but his creditors happened 
 to be men whose .fears made them merciless, 
 and they pressed him heavily. 
 
 It required days and weeks for the once 
 prosperous merchant to realize the wonder- 
 ful change that had come in his affairs, and 
 it was only « r hen the need of rousing hira- 
 
180 GAINING BY LOSING. 
 
 self to do something to gain bread for hia 
 family was forced upon him that he saw 
 how great was the wreck of all his hopes 
 and plans. 
 
 It was just before Christmas when the un- 
 happy family left the beautiful home where 
 but a year before they had made such a dis- 
 play of their wealth. 
 
 Now bowed down with sadness, they took 
 their way to an obscure street in the great 
 city to the few rooms they had rented, and 
 where they were to begin life under such 
 changed circumstances. 
 
 The little street seemed so dingy, and the 
 mean rooms were so mean, that their first 
 evening there was an evening spent mainly 
 in lamentations and tears. 
 
 When Christmas Eve came their minds 
 went back to the brilliant scene of the pre- 
 ceding year, and they uttered bitter com- 
 plaints that of all those who had on that 
 occasion assembled in their home not one 
 remembered them in their poverty. All had 
 forsaken them. They Avere as much alone as 
 
GAINING BY LOSING. 181 
 
 if they had been strangers newly arrived in 
 the great city. 
 
 It was a sad evening, and as the father 
 looked around at his family he said — " Well, 
 this is terrible. Here we are alone and poor, 
 when only a year ago we had all that heart 
 could wish. It is bad enough to be poor, but 
 it seems worse to be as utterly forgotten as 
 we seem to be. But there is one thing I 
 have learned, and that is to put very little 
 reliance in people who can be bought and 
 sold for money. There must be some peo- 
 ple in the world different from those we have 
 had to do with. There surely must be some 
 who are less selfish, and who will cling closer 
 than the idle throng whom our money drew 
 to our doors." 
 
 Just then there was a knock at the door, 
 and there entered an old man, who announced 
 himself as a neighbor living in the next house, 
 He had a good-natured, cheery manner that 
 quite won the hearts of the saddened family, 
 and then any visitor was welcome on such 
 a night. 
 
182 GAINING BY LOSING. 
 
 The neighbor had come in, he said, seeing 
 they were strangers, to invite them to the 
 Christmas service in the little chapel down 
 the street the following morning. 
 
 And he went on in his bright way to tell 
 them about the affairs of the little chapel, 
 and the good work the Lord was doing 
 among the poor of that neighborhood. 
 
 They listened to him with more interest 
 than they ever supposed they could have in 
 such matters, and in response to his earnest 
 invitation promised to be there on Christmas 
 morning. 
 
 When he was gone Mrs. Worthington said, 
 " Edward, this is about as strange as any 
 thing else in our year's history — this going 
 to a poor mission chapel on Christmas morn- 
 ing. Well, I'm glad you promised to go, for 
 it is getting to be perfectly dreadful living 
 here without knowing any one, and as we 
 are deserted by the rich we may as well 
 make some friends among the poor." 
 
 And so on the next morning they all went 
 to the Christmas service in the chapel. It 
 
GAINING BY LOSING. 183 
 
 was a very humble building, and the congre- 
 gation was made up of very humble people. 
 
 There were a few people present, men and 
 women who preferred doing without the lux- 
 urious appointments of the grand churches in 
 the city that they might add to the comfort 
 and benefit of their less favored brethren. 
 
 The service was hearty and enthusiastic. 
 The music had a gladsome ring to it, -and 
 the responses seemed to come from the heart. 
 The sermon was very simple. The preacher 
 told over again the old, old story, but told 
 it with a freshness and vividness that made 
 it seem all new. 
 
 All new it certainly was to the Worth- 
 ingtons, and they listened with absorbing 
 interest. No eloquent words they had be- 
 fore heard impressed them so deeply as this 
 plain discourse which was so devoid of all 
 attempts at ornament. 
 
 Perhaps their spirits were in just the mood 
 to be touched. 
 
 But be that as it may, they left that chapel 
 when the service was over with new feelings, 
 
184 GAINING BY LOSING. 
 
 and with the firm conviction that life must 
 have in it a deeper meaning than they had 
 yet found if the Son of God could humble 
 Himself to live here among men. 
 
 There was not any sudden conversion. 
 They did not become at once devout Chris- 
 tian people, but a change began to come over 
 them. One good thought led on to another. 
 One new friend brought another, and some- 
 what to their own surprise they found them- 
 selves part and parcel of the mission con- 
 gregation and taking a deep interest in its 
 affairs. 
 
 They gradually became more and more 
 accustomed to their changed circumstances, 
 and as new interests were formed, and as 
 Mr. Worthington found employment where 
 he could support his family in tolerable com- 
 fort, they began to be much more hopeful 
 and happy. 
 
 The mother and daughters found their 
 sympathies drawn out towards their poor 
 neighbors, and ere long were led to assist 
 in the school and in the different societies 
 
GAINING BY LOSING. 185 
 
 which existed in the mission for Christian 
 work. 
 
 And so step by step, the Lord led these 
 people, showing them how vain is man's 
 trust in his riches, how fickle are the friends 
 that come only in prosperity, and what un- 
 developed capacities there are which only 
 the touch of affliction can draw out. 
 
 So they were led on and on, until as years 
 passed by they became very earnest Chris- 
 tians, and were able to say, "It is good for 
 us that we have been afflicted." 
 
 But it was a hard lesson. Their hold of the 
 world had been very tenacious, their selfish- 
 ness had been very great, and their forget- 
 fulness of God had been extreme. Nothing 
 but so heavy a blow could have saved them 
 from going on in that way whose record is 
 summed up in the significant expression, 
 "Without God in the world." 
 
 Now all was changed, and they found 
 themselves the possessors of peace of mind 
 and genuine satisfaction' which were not 
 theirs in their days of wealth. 
 
186 GAINING BY LOSING. 
 
 III. CHRISTMAS IN EARNEST. 
 
 Ten years have passed away since the old 
 man who lived in the next house paid his 
 friendly visit to the Worthingtons to invite 
 them to the Christmas service. 
 
 The good old man knew not what happy 
 results would follow his neighborly deed, and 
 he has long since gone to his rest. 
 
 It is Christmas Eve again, but we do not 
 find the Worthingtons lisying in the humble 
 street near the chapel. No, they have re- 
 moved to a better house, for Mr. Worthing- 
 ton is again a prosperous business man. He 
 has won his way onward until now he is 
 again a man of means. Not the wealthy 
 man we first knew, for he has given up 
 those reckless ventures which before result- 
 ed so disastrously, and is now content witl 
 more moderate returns. 
 
 He is steadily acquiring influence, and is 
 making his power felt in the business world. 
 
 But the family have not returned to the 
 old life they lived in their former prosperity. 
 
GAINING BY LOSING. 187 
 
 They have no desire to take up the senseless 
 round that osce occupied them. They have 
 but little deske to live in the glare and glit- 
 ter which they once affected. 
 
 They can never think of their former con- 
 dition without being glad that they are so 
 happily out of it now. 
 
 Their new prosperity has not weakened 
 their love for the little mission chapel where 
 they first learned how real and how noble 
 life has become since the Son of God has 
 taught us its possibilities. 
 
 Many warm friendships were made there 
 which have grown stronger with years, and 
 many a tie binds them to the pastor and 
 people of the mission. 
 
 This Christmas Eve, as has been his cus- 
 tom for a few years past, Edward Worthing- 
 ton calls together a different class of persons 
 to partake of the good cheer of his home. 
 Now it is not his rich neighbors, but the 
 poor who come at his invitation, and many 
 a needy child, many toil-wora men and wo- 
 men, have learned that there is always aouit- 
 
188 GAINING BY LOSING. 
 
 thing for them in Edward Worthington's 
 home on Christmas Eve. The mission peo- 
 ple feel at their ease with him, for they know 
 that his heart sympathizes with them. They 
 rejoice at his prosperity as they see the good 
 he is doing with his wealth, and no one of 
 them has a hard thought because he is rich 
 while they are poor. " Why," says one of 
 them, " a man like Worthington who has been 
 down nearly as poor as we are,' and has got 
 his money honestly and uses so much of it 
 for others — why, he's the sort of man to have 
 it. 'The Lord bless him.'" 
 
 And so to-night these people find bright- 
 ness and welcome and comfort in their friend's 
 house, and leave him with benedictions. 
 
 If again he should be prostratea by calam- 
 ity, will he be without friends? Will he go 
 out from his home to bear his burden alone 
 
 Ten years ago he was living for the perish- 
 able things of this life, but now he and hir 
 are trying to lay up treasures in heaven. 
 
PANSY'S PREPARATIONS FOR 
 CHRISTMAS 
 
PANSY'S PREPARATIONS FOR 
 CHRISTMAS. 
 
 A GRANDMOTHER'S STORY. 
 
 ! 
 
 HE was "Heart's-Ease" to every one, 
 and so we called her Pansy. She 
 was a bright, cheery little creat- 
 ure, fall of sunshine, and when 
 she was taken away our home seemed very 
 dark indeed. She was taken from us by the 
 Good Shepherd only eight years from the day 
 she came to us. Her coming filled many 
 hearts with gladness, but her departing made 
 many more sad. 
 
 " If only we could have kept her here," we 
 used to say, but now that time has rolled on 
 we have learned to say, " The Lord gave, and 
 the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the 
 nam", of the Lord." 
 
192 pansy's preparations 
 
 We know that she is at rest in Paradise, 
 and we hope to see her again where all is 
 gladness, and where suffering can not come. 
 It was very hard to give her up. She was 
 such a gentle little thing, with so many win- 
 ning ways, that she became the very joy of 
 our lives, and we all thanked God in our 
 prayers that she had come to be the bright- 
 ener of our home. 
 
 It was very amusing to see the joy of her 
 big brothers, — there were three of them, 
 great tall fellows, — when the baby was born. 
 Being the only girl in the family they re- 
 garded her at first with great wonderment, 
 and finally yielded themselves absolutely to 
 her sway. Never did fair lady have such 
 loyal followers as did she. 
 
 These big brothers were attentive to her 
 every command, and were ready to go 
 through fire and water to serve her. 
 
 Many were the contests between them as 
 to which of the three should do the most 
 for her ladyship. It is true that sometimes 
 their attentions were very clumsy and !>luu- 
 
FOR CHRISTMAS. 193 
 
 dering, but she seemed to know their devo- 
 tion, and rewarded them with her bright 
 sunny smile, and they were happy. When 
 she began to talk their delight was unbound- 
 ed, and her first efforts at pronouncing their 
 names seemed to them the most wonderful 
 performance they had ever listened to. 
 
 She had many instructors in articulation, 
 and it is to be feared she was often wearied 
 with the zeal not only of her brothers but 
 of all the household in teaching her to say 
 the little words and phrases that sounded so 
 quaint, but so pretty, as she uttered them. 
 
 The Christmas trees that were prepared for 
 Pansy were wonderful things. These big 
 brothers claimed the right to select the trees, 
 and to decorate them. The decorations were 
 not very rich, for we were not a wealthy fam- 
 ily. We had enough, but not overmuch of 
 this world's goods. We have never known 
 poverty, and we have never known riches. 
 
 But if there was nothing very costly on 
 Pansy's trees, there was certainly a great va- 
 riety; jack-knives, and jig-oaws, under the 
 13 
 
194 pansy's preparations 
 
 boys' loving management produced marvels 
 in the shape of dolls, doll-houses, Noah's arks, 
 boats, and the like, and there were brilliant- 
 ly-colored pictures, the product of hours spent 
 in the old attic by James, the artist of the 
 family. 
 
 Well, these Christmas trees gave great de- 
 light to the little one, as certainly they did 
 to the older people. In very few homes 
 could the Saviour's birthday have been cele- 
 brated with more rejoicing, and so year by 
 year we welcomed its coming. Our little 
 daughter grew more and more attractive, 
 and she was surrounded with an atmosphere 
 of affection. And what was best of all she 
 seemed to return all our love, and paid us 
 back smile for smile. "How greatly we loved 
 her, and how greatly we enjoyed her. 
 
 Sometimes we older people had our day 
 dreams, and we pictured to ourselves what 
 our little one would be when she grew up to 
 womanhood, tut our brightest pictures for 
 her were not so bright as the future the dear 
 Lord had prepared for her. 
 
FOR CHRISTMAS. 195 
 
 We thought of a happy, useful, beautiful 
 life here on the earth, but Ho intended a 
 blissful existence in Paradise. 
 
 We know now that His ways are wiser 
 than ours, and that it was in loving kind- 
 ness to little Pansy that He called her from 
 all the sorrows of this life, and carried her, 
 in all her joyous innocence, into the life of 
 perfect gladness. She never knew what sor- 
 row really was. Her stay here was made 
 bright and happy by the love that surround- 
 ed her, and long before she could realize that 
 there were burdens to be borne, and tempta- 
 tions to be met, she was ushered into the 
 abode of the blessed, where she is growing 
 in all the sweetness of her spirit in the near- 
 er presence of the Lord. 
 
 But I started out to tell you of her last 
 Christmas with us, or rather of the last prep- 
 arations she made for the blessed Christmas 
 time. She was not content to be a receivei 
 of the good gilts of others, but must, in hei 
 way be a giver too; so when she was a very 
 little girl she began to add to the load that 
 
196 pansy's preparations 
 
 hung upon the Christmas tree. It was but 
 little that she could do, but we all learned to 
 prize her little gifts as among our choicest 
 treasures. 
 
 Early in November, when the snows com- 
 menced to fall, we knew that the dear child 
 had begun her preparations. During a part 
 of each day we would miss her, and now and 
 then there were packages of bright colored 
 worsteds that she would commission me to 
 buy. Of course I never knew what they 
 were for, or if I ventured a guess I was 
 hushed by a tiny finger on my lips, and a 
 pleading voice that said — " It's a secret, 
 mamma, and no one must know till Christ- 
 mas time." 
 
 When that last December opened, it found 
 our house in deep sadness. A sickness that 
 we could not account for, had taken hold of 
 our little one, and for some days the doctor's 
 visits were looked forward to with great anx- 
 iety. But there were only a few days of 
 sharp pain, and then in our blindness and 
 affection we thought the danger all over. 
 
FOR CHRISTMAS. 1 ( J7 
 
 It is true the little one had to stay in her 
 bed, but we all thought she would be about 
 again as merry as ever. Well, it did seem 
 as if she must recover, and so we dismissed 
 our anxieties, and hopefully waited, but it 
 was ordered otherwise by the great lov- 
 ing Father. Pansy's sickness was one from 
 which there was no recovery, and there she 
 lay during those winter days growing weak- 
 er instead of stronger, and we all the time 
 hoping that we could keep her with us. She 
 was fading away from us even while we were 
 looking for the change that would restore 
 her. 
 
 1 suppose now we might have seen how 
 utterly hopeless was her condition if we had 
 not longed so ardently for her recovery. 
 
 And she was so bright and cheerful too. 
 There was but little pain, only that dread- 
 ful weakness that became more and more 
 decided. 
 
 But during the few weeks she lay there as 
 white as a lily, her little fingers were busy, 
 and ber brain was full of plans for keeping 
 
198 pansy's preparations 
 
 Christmas. It was my privilege to be the 
 dear child's confidant and assistant in her 
 preparations for making others happy. She 
 told me what she wanted to do for each one, 
 and I was permitted to help her. 
 
 She did not know how many were the 
 silent tears I shed over the little tasks she 
 transferred to me, nor how during those last 
 few days I struggled to control my almost 
 breaking heart. 
 
 She lingered on until Christmas Day and 
 then we all knew that the end had come. 
 She knew it too. I have reason to believe 
 since that she knew it long before we did, 
 and with sweet patience was waiting the 
 hour when she should be called to a better 
 home. 
 
 It was just towards the dawn of the 
 winter's day that we all came together in 
 her room. Her bed was strewn with the 
 many little things she had prepared for 
 Christmas gifts. I had placed them where 
 Rhe could see them, at her request, and she 
 wanted to give them " with her own hands," 
 
FOR CHRISTMAS. 199 
 
 she said. She could not wait till morning, 
 she told us, and so we came to receive our 
 gifts. I need not tell you what they were. 
 They were only little things, such as a lit- 
 tle child would select, and such as her own 
 hands would have finished if she had had 
 the strength. There, were names worked in 
 worsted, purses, needle -books, such things 
 as these. No stranger would have valued 
 them, but to us they were treasures indeed. 
 
 I do not know how it was, but as we went 
 up to the bedside one by one to receive our 
 gifts we knelt down, and her dear hands hav- 
 ing bestowed the gift were placed tenderly 
 on our heads, as if somehow her benediction 
 must go with the gift. 
 
 And I am sure it did, for through all these 
 long years when Christmas Day comes we 
 fancy we still feel the touch of those hands 
 as we felt it then when we knelt by Pansy's 
 bedside, and it has been to us a help through 
 life's trials, for it has reminded us of the wel- 
 come and the affection that await us in Par 
 adise. 
 
200 pansy's preparations 
 
 She could not say much to us, but her 
 eyes were eloquent with happiness. 
 
 Well, the last gift was made, and the little 
 hands were uplifted from her father's head, 
 for it was her fancy to give his last of all, 
 when I saw the change coming. A shadow 
 passed over her face, there was a spasm of 
 pain, and then quietly she fell asleep and 
 awoke no more. Our " Heart's-Ease " was in 
 Paradise. 
 
 I will not tell you how much we missed 
 that blessed sunbeam from our home, nor 
 how lonely we all seemed without her. 
 
 Seeing you all so busy preparing for Christ- 
 mas reminded me of my dear one's prepara- 
 tion for the last Christmas she spent with us. 
 We have her little gifts yet. My boys have 
 grown up to be men, but I know that they 
 keep as among their dearest possessions Pan- 
 sy's gifts which they received as they knelt 
 at her bedside so many years ago that Christ- 
 mas Day when He who was once a child 
 called our darling home, and folded her in 
 His loving arms. And I've told you the 
 
FOR CHRISTMAS. 201 
 
 story too that you may sometimes have the 
 thought come to you that these little things 
 you receive from each other, as this happy 
 season comes, may have a value you can not 
 see at once. They may be freighted with 
 the love and devotion of some who before 
 another Christmas comes will not be witn 
 us here. 
 
HOW TO ILLUSTRATE THE 
 STORIES. 
 
HOW TO ILLUSTRATE THE 
 STORIES. 
 
 c**Cc 
 
 HEN these stories are read aloud in 
 families, or at Sunday-school fes- 
 tivals, at Christmas time, they can 
 readily be illustrated by tableaux 
 and carols. 
 
 The following directions will show how to 
 do this, and the ingenuity of parents, teach- 
 ers, and others will provide still further il- 
 lustrations. 
 
 1st. There should be a reader who, having 
 studied a story in advance, should on the oc- 
 casion of the public reading stand near the 
 platform where the illustrations are to be 
 given. 
 
 2d. In almost every parlor with folding 
 
206 HOW TO ILLUSTRATE 
 
 doors the rear room could be used for the 
 tableaux. In halls, etc., a platform with cur- 
 tain could easily be constructed. 
 
 3d. The reader and the persons selected 
 to give the illustrations should have one or 
 two rehearsals in advance. 
 
 4th. At the time of the reading, when the 
 reader reaches a part where a tableau is to 
 be shown, let him pause in the story. Con- 
 sider the tableau as a picture of the scene 
 
 5th. The music for the carols can usually 
 be rendered by a concealed chorus of ten or 
 twelve children. Any familiar carols can be 
 used. 
 
 6th. The numbers in brackets in the stories 
 refer to the tableaux, etc., described in the 
 following pages. 
 
THE STORIES. 207 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Uncle JoJins Christmas Party. 
 
 1. Uncle John enters, arranges his straps, 
 brushes his hat, cleans his glasses, reads his 
 paper, examines contents of his pockets. 
 
 2. Aunt Susan enters, walks arm in arm 
 with Uncle John, point out to each other 
 the sunset clouds, etc. 
 
 3. Enter the cook, drops the pan, storms 
 over it, remembers herself, picks it up gen- 
 tly, etc. 
 
 4. Enter Dickey Diggs, absent-minded — 
 pantomime at discretion. 
 
 5 Enter the twins, carrying .something, 
 one going fast, the other slowly. They be- 
 gin to do some work in same way. 
 
 6. Here all enter, — servants, Uncle John, 
 and Aunt Susan. Pantomime. 
 
 7. Motley collection of people present Un- 
 cle John receiving the lawyer. 
 
 8. The doctor's entrance. 
 
 9. The grouo around the table. During 
 
208 HOW TO ILLUSTRATE 
 
 this part of the story Uncle John and the 
 guests follow its course in pantomime. 
 
 The Tramps' Christmas Eve, 
 I. 
 
 The interior of the living room: an old 
 man at the right of the fireplace, an old wo- 
 man on the left, in old-fashioned chairs; a 
 young woman by a table sewing. 
 
 Pantomime to follow as the story is read: 
 
 1. — Sadness of the three. 
 
 2. — Mary weeping. 
 
 3. — They turn toward each other as the 
 farmer speaks. 
 
 4. — The knock at the door — change of 
 position. 
 
 II. 
 
 Entrance of the three servants, Betty, Mi- 
 chael, and Jonas. Awkward bowing and 
 scraping. Unfolding of the petition. Per- 
 mission given. Joy of the servants. Exit. 
 
THE STORIES. 209 
 
 III. 
 
 The interior of the old kitchen. The ser- 
 vants having a merry time. 
 
 Pantomime follows the course of the story. 
 During the ghost story gestures of terror, etc. 
 At the knocking at the door all start up, etc. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Enter the two tramps. 
 Follow in pantomime the course of the 
 story. 
 
 The entrance of Mr. and Mrs. Warren and 
 Mary. 
 
 Group themselves to watch the duncing. 
 Pantomime follows the course of the fltory. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Here all rise excitedly. 
 Mary rushes to him and falls dow:. at hia 
 feet. 
 
 The Belated Christmas Guests. 
 1. Tableau. A group around a wood fire 
 (a pile of wood with red paper to represent 
 
210 HOW TO ILLUSTRATE 
 
 the flames will do), torn pieces of white pa« 
 per scattered around will represent the snow. 
 
 2. Entrance of the second party, wrapped 
 up with cloaks, etc., covered with snow, look- 
 ing very tired. 
 
 3. All grouped together. One man stand- 
 ing, book in hand. At intervals all sing some 
 Christmas carols. 
 
 4. A shout outside, all startled, rise to 
 their feet. Enter Farmer Larch. 
 
 Bobert Bounce. 
 
 1. Enter Robert Kounce as described. 
 
 2. Enter Dick Lay. 
 
 3. Group of merry children. 
 
 4. Bob and the children on their way to 
 the woods. 
 
 5. Their return with the evergroena. 
 6 Carol singing. 
 
 7. Children separate. 
 
 8. Soft music. 
 
 9. Children rush out to meet him. 
 10. Bob on his way home 
 
THE STORIES. 211 
 
 11. At work. Carpenters, etc. 
 
 12. More workmen come on. 
 
 13. Singing. 
 14 Chorus. 
 
 The Crew of the Sea GuU. 
 
 1. Imitations outside of the whistling and 
 moaning of the storm. 
 
 2. The crew huddled together. The sand- 
 bank may be represented by canvas cast over 
 chairs, etc. Turn the lights down. Scatter 
 pieces of white paper to represent snow. 
 
 3. A chorus outside singing a carol. The 
 crew join in with them. 
 
 4 The two parties rush back and forth 
 across the stage. 
 
 5. Enter the old clergyman. 
 
 6. Here sing a number of carols. Singers 
 concealed, or else represent the interior of a 
 chapel. 
 
 
212 • HOW TO ILLUSTRATE 
 
 Aunt Kittys Christmas Tree. 
 
 1. Tableau. Interior of a room. Old wo- 
 man in chair sewing. Two cats on rug be- 
 fore her. 
 
 2. The same. A few boys and girls very 
 plainly dressed peeping around the room — 
 then standing before her as if questioning 
 her. 
 
 3. Interior of a shop. Quaint old man 
 behind counter. Aunt Kitty buying toys. 
 Clarence watching. 
 
 4. Interior of room again. Three boys as 
 if questioning her. 
 
 5. The three boys trimming the Christmas 
 tree — then hiding themselves out of sight in 
 closet. 
 
 6. Aunt Kitty and the dozen or so of chil- 
 dren looking in amazement at the Christmas 
 tree. 
 
 7. Clarence rolling out on the floor. The 
 surprise of all. 
 
 8. The room filled with people, each hav 
 ing something for Aunt Kitty. Aunt Kitty's 
 entrance with the poor children. 
 
THE STORIES. 213 
 
 Reuben Revbenson. 
 
 1. Tableau. A gray -haired man, in an arm- 
 chair before an open fire. A frame -work 
 of canvas or paper painted may be used to 
 represent an old-fashioned fireplace. Cos- 
 tume, any old-fashioned suit. Attitude, in- 
 tent watching the fire. 
 
 2. Burst of music outside. Concealed cho- 
 rus behind curtains, or in another room. One 
 verse sung merrily. Then pause as reader 
 goes on. Old man imitates the movements 
 described by the reader, first looking into 
 the chimney, then going to window. 
 
 3. Here may be sung any familiar carols. 
 Two verses of, say, two carols, in rapid 
 succession 
 
 4. A couple more carols in same way. 
 
 - 5. Music sung more and more faintly, as 
 if the singers were passing down the street. 
 
 6. Sing very gently, simply hum the tune. 
 
 7. Old man asleep in chair. Santa Claus 
 comes down chimney, walks about, then 
 passes out. 
 
 8. A curtain concealing ChnstmaB tree is 
 
214 HOW TO ILLUSTRATE THE STORIES. 
 
 withdrawn. This tableau, in small room, 
 could be omitted. 
 
 9. One or two verses of the old hymn 
 " Adeste fideles," sung slowly by concealed 
 chorus. At end of this the old man need 
 not appear again. Draw curtains. Or imi- 
 tate the actions described by the reader and 
 have the old man pass out when the reader 
 describes his going to church. 
 
 10. Imitate the tolling of a church bell, 
 either upon piano, or by means of a bell 
 outside. 
 
 The Christmas Chimes. 
 Imitations of ringing the changes on the 
 bells, and carols can be played on che piano 
 during the reading of the first chapter, and 
 at the end of the whole story. 
 
 Gaining by Losing. 
 The contrast between the condition of the 
 family in affluence js.'1 in poverty m<vy ba 
 iih^tn-ited. 
 
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