(jHje Jfastyngton JieMfl *-**- ?*> y? WASHINGTON. D. C., CHRISTMAS DAY, SATURDAY. DECEMBER 25. 3920. S^.^gV?& - (Tl)n STAVE ONE. tfARLKY'8 GHOST. fc*?t^^^ARLEY waa dead: to begin with. K There is no doubt whatever TLj^.r?v:v" ^ about that. The register of his burial Waa signed by the clergyJrr^Ey^^ man. the clerk, the undertaker, and the SL? chief mourner. 8croo(e signed it; and Scrooge's name wan good upon 'Change, for anything he chose t? put his hand to. A-* jsP.* W Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail. This must be distinctly understood, or jiSy*nothing wonderful can com^ of the vStory I am going to relate. If we were not pery / Jm fectly convinced that Hamlet's Father died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his tak,nff a stroll at night, %in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts, than there would **e in anv othcr middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot? say Saint Paul's Churchyard for 9 instance?literally to Astonish his son's weak mind. Jjk d|W Scrooge never painted out Old Marley's name. There It stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door; Scrooge and ? * Marley. The firm was known as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people new to the business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley. but he answered to ^ ^r)35v both names: it was all the same to him. 1 ^ ?h- But was a tight-flsted hand at ' .''S? the grindstone. 'Scrooge! a squeezing. wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out generous Are; secret, and self-con^?jh^Al tained. and solitary as an oyster. 7 Nobody eper stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks. "My dear Y Scrooge, how are you? When will you come to see me?" Even the blind men's dogs appeared to know him; and when r'^^Lr" they saw him coming on. would tug their owners into doorways and up courts; and I1N A then would wag their tails as though they |j H >y said. "No eye at all is better than an evil Blfy/ eye. dark master!** But what did Scrooge care? It was the thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded path of life, warning all human- sympathy to keep its distance, r- vJHx! was what the knowing ones call "nuts" jBl to Scrooge. Once upon a time?of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve?old ^ V Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house It was cold, bleak, biting weather; foggy withal; and he could hear the people in thc court outside go wheezing up and down, beating their hands upon their Tyf breasts, and stamping their feet upon the A. pavement-stones to warm them. The city ht&Vr clocks had only just gone three, but it wa3 ^uite dark already. . \|/\: Arr.vC The door of Scrooge's counting-house was open that he might keep his eye JTtI upon his Clerk, who in a dismal little cell beyond, a sort of tank, was copying let/pjf try ters.. Scrooge had a very small fire, but y% the clerk's fire was so very much smaller that it looked like one coal. "A merry Christmas, uncle! (Jod save you!" cried a checrful voice. - It was the voice of Scrooge's nephew, who came upt on him so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of his approach. "Bah!" said Scrooge, "Humbug!" He had *? heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this neph> ew ?' Scrooge's, that he was all in a jf, *; . ' VjA glow; his face was ruddy and handsome; y-^ his eyes sparkled, and his breath smoked i again. "Christmas a humbug. uncle*' said Scrooge's nephew. "You don't mean that, * am 8ure-" 1J^;V"1 do," said Scrooge. "Merry Christmas! y' -jjl What right have you to be merry? What .?? reason have you * to be merry? You're It? poor enough." "Come, then," returned the nephew EJ gaily. "What right have you to be disy"\ii i mal? What reason have you to be mo/xTJ [Jyy rose? You're rich enough." tf Scrooge having no better answer ready || on the spur of the moment, said, "Bah!" again; and followed it up with "Hum/" /> "X>on't be cross, uncle," said the neph"What else can I be." returned the u'nJf-Krcle, "when I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out upon | merry Christmas! What's Christmas time M A - ? to y?u bot a time for paying bills withV > out money; a time for finding yourself s year older, but not an hour richer; a time lor balancing your books and having every item in 'em through a round dozen ^jUL of months presented dead against you? If jjjBiSSr 1 could work my will,", said Scrooge in^r^WTm dignantly, "every idiot who goes about ' with ^Merry Christmas' on his lips should be bolLed with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!** 7-^ "2^3 "Uncle!" pleaded the nephew. XLiS, , "Meph^r!" returned the uncle, sternly, fm Jl "keep Chirstmas in your own way and let me keep it in mine." "Keep it!" repeated Scrooge's nephew. "**ut you don't keep it." Ml *L*t me leaV6 4t alone, then." said Scrooge. "Much good may it do you! ft Much good it has ever done you!" "There are many things from which * ? 1 mighl have derived good, by which I have not profited. I dare say," returned "if the nephew: "Christmas among the rest. ^ And therefore, uncle, though It has never ^3*^ Put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, 1'w^f 1 believe that it HAS done me good, and WILL do me good; and I say, God bless The clerk in the Tank involuntarily applauded; becoming immediately sensible of the impropriety, he poked the fire, and extinguished the last frail spark foi "Lct me hejlr enother sound from YOU," 8ald Scrooge, "and' y^U*Tl keep youi Christmas by* losing your situation." jg/KjQ "Don't be angry, uncle. Come! Dine /^ :Vyabff with us tomorrow." Scrooge said that he would see him yes. Indeed he did. He went the whole length of the expression, and said that he would see him In that extremity first ."But why?" cried Scrooge's nephew. "Why?" stmas (T ' 4 "Why did rou get married?" s?H Scrooge. "Bccause I fell in love." "Because you fell In love!" growled Scrooge, as If that were the only one thing In the world more ridiculous than a merry Christmas. "Good afternoon. "Nay. uncle, but you never came to see me before that happened. Why give tt as a reason for not coming now?' "Good afternoon," said Scfoogc. "I want nothing from you; X ask nothing of you: why cannot we be friends? "Good afternoon," said Scrooge. "I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute. We have never had a quarrel, to which I have been a party. But I have' made the trial In homage to Christmas, and I'll keep my Christmas humor to the last. So A Merry Christmas. uncle!" "Good afternoon!" said Scrooge. "And A Happy New Year!" "Good afternoon;" said Scrooge. His nephew left tbe room without an angry word, notwithstanding. He stopped at the outer door to bestow the greetings of the season on the clerk, who. cold as he was, was warmer than Scrooge; for he returned them cordially. "There's another fellow," muttered Scrooge, who overheard him; "my clerk, with fifteen shillings a week, and a wife and family, talking about a merry Christmas. I'll retire to Bedlam." This lunatic. In letting Scrooge's nephew out, had let two other people in. They were portly gentlemen, pleasant to behold, and now stood, with their hats off, in Scrooge's office. "Scrooge and Marley's. I believe." said one of the gentlemen, referring to his. list. "Have I the pleasure of -addressing Mr. Scrooge or Mr. Marley?" "Mr. Marley has been dead these seven years," Scrooge replied. "He died seven years ago, this very night." , "We have no doubt his liberality is well represented by his surviving partner," said the gentleman, presenting his credentials. It certainly was. for they had been two kindred spirits. At the ominous word "liberality," Scrooge frowned, and shook hiy head, and. handed the credential: back. "At this festive season of tbo year. Mr. Scrooge," said the gentleman, taking up a pen. "It is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, Sir." "Are there no prisons?" asked Scrooge. "Plenty of prisons," said the gentleman, laying down the ^en again. "And the Union workhouses?" demanded Scrooge. "Are they still In operation?" "They are. Still." returned the gentleman, "1 wish I could say they were not." "The Treadmill and the Poor L*w are in full vigor, then?" said Scrooge. "Both very busy. Sir." "Oh! I waa afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course," said Scrooge. "I'm very glad to hear It." "Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian cheer of mind or body to the multitude," returned the gentleman, "a few of us are endeavoring to raise a fund to buy the Poor some meat and drink, and 'means of warmth. We choose this time, because it is a time, of all othrs. when Want is keenly felt and Abundance rejoices. What shall I put you down for?" Nothing!" Scrooge replied. "You wish to be anonymous?" "I wish to be left alone," said Scrooge. "Since you ask me what I wish, gentle| men, that Is my answer. 1 don't make I merry myself at Christmas, and I can't ! afford to make idle people merry. I help to support the establishments I have mentioned; they cost enough, and those who are badly off must go there." "Many can't go there and many would rather die." "If they would rather die." said Scrooge, "they had better do it. and decrease the surplusi population. Besides, excuse me? I don't know that." "But you might know it," observed the gentleman. "It's not my business." Scrooge returned "It's enough for a man to understand his own business and not to interfere with other people's. Mine occupies me constantly. Good afternoon, gentlemen." Seeing clearly that it would be useless to pursne* their point, the gentlemen withdrew. Scrooge resumed ljis labors with an Improved opinion of himself, and Ip more facetious temper than was usual > with him. At length the hour of shutting up the counting-house arrived. With an ill-will Scrooge dismounted from his stool, and tacitly admitted the fact to the expectant clerk In the Tank, who Instantly snuffed his candle out, and put on hia hat. "You'll want all day tomorrow, I suppose?*' said Scrooge. "If quite convenient. Sir.'* "It's not convenient," said Scro'oge, *and it s not fair. If I was to stop halfa-crown for it. you'd think yourself illused. I'll be bound T The clerk smiled faintly. "And yet." said Scrooge, "you don't think ME ill-used, when I pay a day's 1 wages for no work." The clerk observed that it was only once a year. \ i "A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty-fifth of December!" ' said Scrooge, buttoning his great-coat tc the chin. "But I suppose you must have the whole day. Be here all the earlier next morning!" Scrooge took his melancholy dinner in t his usual melancholy tavern, and having read all the newspapers, and beguiled the rest Of the evening with his banker's i book, went home to bed. He lived in ; chambers which had once belonged to hia deceased partner. Tbey were a gloomy suite of rooms, in a lowering pile of building up a yard, where it had so little -t. -vl rtAn aroi ; 1 I 4-> _ I business to be, that one could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it was a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other houses. and have forgotten the way out again. Now, It is a fact, that there was nothing at all particular about the knocker on the door, except that is was very large. It is also a fact, that Scrooge had seen it. night and morning, durina his whole residence fh that place. Let u also be borne in mind that Scrooge ha* not bestowed one thought on Marley, sincc his last mention of his seven-years' dead partner that afternoon. And then let any man explain to me. if he ran. how it happened that Scrooge, having his key in the lock of the door, saw in the knocker, without Us undergoing any intermediate process of change; not a knocker, but Marley's face. Marley's face. It was not in inpenctrable shadow as the other objects*in the yan| were, but had a dismal light about it, like a bad lobster in a dark cellar. It was not angry or ferocious, but looked at Scrooge as Marley used to look; with ghostly- spectacles turned up on its ghostly forehead. As Scrooge looked fixedly at this phenomenon. it was a knocker again. To J&ay that ho was not startled or that his blood was not conscious of a terrible sensation to which it had been a stranger from infancy, would be untrue. But he put his hand upon the key he had relinquished, turned it sturdily, walked in and lighted his candle. He DID pause, with a moment's irresolution, before he shut the door; and he DID look cautiously behind it first, as if he half expected to be terrified with the sight of Marley's pigtail sticking out into the hall. But there was nothing on the back of the door, except the screws and nuts that held the knocker on; so he said "Pooh. pooh!H and closed it with a bang. Scrooge was not a man to be frightened by echoes. He fastened the door, and walked across the hall and up the stairs; slowly, too. trimming his candlc>as he went. Half-a-dozen gas-lamps out of the street wouldn't have lighted the' entry too weU. so you may suppose that it was pretty dark with Scrooge's dip.' Up Scrooge went, not caring a button for that; darkness is cheap and Scrooge liked it. But before he shut his heavy door he walked through bis rooms to see that all was right. He had just enough recollection of the face to desire to do that. Quite satisfied, he closed his door and locked himself in; doubled-locked himself in, which was nrl6anwnt, made for of tljc Classic Stor?J out a pause, it came on through the heavy door and passed into the room before his eyes. Upon its coming in the dying flame leaped up as though it cried "I know him! Marley's Ghost!" and fell again 1 Though he looked the phantom through and through and saw it standing before him; though he felt the chilling influence of its death-cold eyes and marked the very texture ?f the folded kerchief bound about its head and chin, which wrapper he had not observed before; he was still incredulous and fought against hi* senses "How now!'* said Scrooge, caustic and cold as ever. "What do you want with j nte T* "Much!"?Marley's voice, no doubt about it. "Who are you?" "Ask me who I WAS." "Who W15RK you then?" said Scrooge, raising his voice. "You're particular?for a shade." He was going to say "TO a shade." but substituted this as more appropriate. "In life I was your partner, Jacob Marley." "Can you?can you sit down?"c asked Scrooge, looking doubtfully at him. "I can." "Do it then." Scrooge asked the question, because he didn't know whether a ghost so transparent might find himself in a condition to take a chair and felt that in the event of its being impossible, it might involve the necessity of an embarrassing explanation. But the Ghost sat down on the opposite side of the fireplace as if he were quite ^used to it. "You don't believe in me," observed the Ghost. "I don't," said Scrooge. "What evidence would you have of my reality beyond that of your senses?" "I don't know," said Scrooge. "Why do you doubt your senses?" "Because," said ^Scrooge, "a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You maybe an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you. whatever you are!*' Scrooge was not much in the habit of cracking jokes, nor did he feel, in hie heart, by any means waggish then. The truth is. that he tried to be smart, as a means of distracting his own attention and keeping down his terror; for the specter's voice disturbed the very mar* row in his bones. "You see this toothpick?" said Scrooge returning quickly to the charge, for ttu reason just assigned; and wishing, though it were only for a second, to divert th< vision's stony gaze from himself. "I do," replied the Ghost. "You are not looking at it.," said Scrooge. "But I see it," sad the Ghost," notwithstanding." "Well!" returned Scrooge. "I have bul to swallow this and be for the rest of m> days persecuted by a legion of goblim all of my own creatiion. Humbug, I teli you?hymbug!" At this the spirit raised a frightful cry. and shook his chain with such a dismal and appalling noise that Scrooge held on tight to his chair to save himsell from falling in a swoon. But how much greater was his horror, when the# phantom taking off the bandage round Iti head, as if it were too warm to wear Indoors, its lower jaw dropped down upjor its breast! Scrooge fell upon his knees, and clasped his hands before his face. "Mercy!" he said. "Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me?" "Man of the worldly mind!" replied the Ghost, "do you believe in me or not?" ybj (Tl)arl "I do," aid 8croof?. "I must. But why do spirits walk the earth #nd why do they come, to roe?" "It is required of every man." the Ghost returned.' "that the spirit yithin him should walk abroad among his fellowmen and travel far and wide; and If that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the world? oh. woe is me!?and witness what it cannot share but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness!" Again the specter raised a cry and shook its chain and wrung its shadowy hands. "You are fettered." said Scrooge, trembling. "Tell me why?" "I wear the chain I forged in life,** replied the Ghost. "I made it link by link and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will and of my own free will I wore it. Is its pattern strange to TOUT* Scrooge trembled more and more. "Oh! captive, bound and double-ironed." cried the phantom, "not to know, that ages Of incessant labor, by Immortal creatures, for this earth must pass into eternity before the good of which it is susceptible is all developed. Not to know that any Christian spirit working kindly in its little sphere, whatever it might be, will find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulnesa Not to know that no space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused! Yet such was I! Oh! such was I!" "But you were always a good man of business, Jacob," faltered Scrooge, who now began to apply this to himself. "Business!" cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. "Mankind was my business; thex common .welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance and benevolence were, all, ray business. The dealings of ray trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!" It held up its chain at arm's length, as I if that were the cause of all its unavailing grief and flung It heavily u^on the ground again. "At this time of the rolling year," the specter faid, "I suffer most. Why did I walk through crowds of fellow beings with ray eyes turned down, and never raise them to that blessed star which | ied the Wise Men to a poor abode! Were there no poor homes to which its light would have conducted me?*' | Scrooge was very much dismayed to | hear the specter going on at this rate, j and began to quake exceedingly. "Hear me!" cried the Ghost. "My time is nearly gone." "I will," said Scrooge. "But don't be hard * upon rae! Don't be flowery. Jacob! Pray!" "How is it that I appear before you inji shape that you can see, I may ?ot ten. 1 have sat invisible' beside you many and many a day.'' aL w*.. not an agreeable idea. Scroogc shivered, and wiped the perspiration from his brow. "That is no light part of my penance,' pursued the Ghost. "1 am here tonight tc warn you that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping ray fate. A chancc and hope of my procuring. Kbenezer." "You were always a good friend to me,' said Scrooge, "Thank'ee." "You will be haunted." resumed the Ghost, "by Three Spirits.*' Scrooge's countenance fell almost a? low as the Ghost's had done. "Is that the chance and hope you mentioned, Jacob?" he demanded, in a faltering voice." "It is.*' "I?1 think I'd rather not," said Scroogc. "Without their visits," said the Ghost, "you cannot hope to shun the path 1 tread. Expect the first tomorrow when the bells toll one." "Couldn't 1 take 'em all at once and 1 have it over, Jacob?" hinted Scrooge. "Expect the second on the next night at the ^a.me hour. The third upon the next night when the last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate. Look to sec me nc more; and look that, for your own sake you remember what has passed betweer us!" When it had said these words, the specter took its wrapper from the table, and bound it round its head, as before Scroogc knew this, by the smart sound its teeth made, when the jaws were brought together by the bandage. He ven, tured to raise his eyes again and found his supernatural visitor confronting hin in ^an erect attitude with its chain wound over and about its arm. Scrooge Vlosed the window and exam, ined the door, by which the Ghost hac entered. It was double-locked, as b? 1 had locked it with his own hands and th< 1 bolts were undisturbed. He tried to saj i "Humbug!" but stopped at the first syl ' lablc. And being, from the emotion h< had undergone, or the fatigues of th? day, or his glimpse of the Invisibl< World, or the dull conversation of th? [ Ghost, or the lateness of the hour, raucl ' in need of repose; went straight to bed , without undressing and fell asleep upoi the instant. 1 STAVE TWO. t . THE FIRST OF THE THREE SPIRITS ' ^&4liex Scrooge awoke, it was si 1 ?l// dark, that looking out of bed he could scarcely distinguish th< ' transparent window from thi ' opaque walls of the chamber. He was en | deavortng to pierce the darkness witl his ferret eyes, when the chimes of I ' neighboring church struck the four quar ' ters. So he listened for the h8ur. 1 To his great astonlshm-nt the heav; bell went on from six to seven, and fron ' seven to eight, and regularly up ti twelve; then stopped. Twelve! It wa ' past two when he went to bed. The clocl was wrong. An icicle must have got inti ' the works, Twelve! , He touched the spring of his repeater to correct Mils most preposterous clock es iDicketis Ipg Its rapid little pulse beat twelve and ^??? stopped. j jtfl \ "Why, It isn't possible." said Scrooge. "that I can have slept through a whole day and far into snother night, it Isn't possible that anything has happened to fr* the sun. and that it is twelve, at noon!" ^ Scrooge lay until the chimes had gone three quarters more, when he remembered i^ff ^ on a sudden that the Ghost had warned ^';v!wi him of a visitation when the bell tolled one. He resolved to lie awake until the hour was passed; and. considering that \ he could no more go to sleep than go to Heaven, this was perhaps the wisest resolution in his power. ^ The quarten was so long that he was { more than once convinced he must have sunk into s doze unconsciously, and jVr.^' ./*" missed the clock. At length it broke upon his listening ear. \ i "The hour itself," said Scrooge, tH- , umphantly, -and nothing else!" He spoke before thr hour bell sounded, T 5^ which it now did with a deep. dull, hoi- j low. melancholy ONE. Light flashed up jtQ in the room upon the instant, and the 82 curtains of his bed were drawn. The curtains of his bed were drawn aside. I tell you. by a hand Not the curtains at his feet, nor the curtains at his back, but those to which his face was addressed. The curtains of his bed were drawn aside; and Scrooge, starting up into a half-recumbent attitude, found himself face to face with the unearthly k. .*?* j \ visitor who drew them: as close to it as I am now to you. and I am standing in the spirit at your elbow. It was a strange figure?like a child: yet not so like a child as like an old man. viewed through some supernatural /1\A medium, which gave him the appearance of having receded from the view, and be- J?y" iy^T| ing diminished to a child's proportions. Its hair, which hung about its neck and 1 down its back, was white as with age; and yet the face had not a wrinkle in it. .~* ? and the tenderest bloom was on the skin. IrA, H L "Who, and what are you?" Scrooge demanded. 1 "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past#" f "Long past?" inquired Scrooge, observ* I Y^'^iy ant of its dwarfish stature. L ^ "No. Tour past.** Srv Terhaps Scrooge could have told anybody why. if anybody could have asked him; but he had a special desire to see I ly.IVSj the Spirit in his cap, and begged him to be covered. fv_, Mj "What!" exclaimed the Ghoct. "would you so soon put out, with wordly hands. the light I give? *Is it not enough that you are one of those whose passions made iVal ^ this cap, and force me through whole I trains of years to wear it low upon my brow!" RPlCO Scrooge reverently disclaimed all loUn1 tion to offend, or any krowlrdge of havtng wiHniJy -bonneicd" the s&nt m.t any J 3^ ( , 7 period of his life. He then made bold to L"D inquire what business brought him there. fei "Your welfare.** said the Ghost. Jfj?3 WTj Scrooge expressed himself' much obligod. but ceuld not help thinking thst ,1 a night of unbroken rest would have been ' *3^ 1 more conducive to that end. The Spirit ' ! must have heard him thinking, for it 'said immediately: j "Your reclamation, then. Take heed*" y 'kS~It put out its strong hand as it spoke r j and clasped him gently by the arm. Ty pj "Rise, and walk with me!" As the words were spoken, they passed 1 through the wall, afid stood upon an open u .-'^ 3 country road, with fields on either hsnd The city had entirely vanished. Not a V vestige of ft was to be seen. The darkness and the mist hsd vanished with it, for it was a clear, cold, winter day, with snow upon the ground FtV; "Good heaven!** said Scrooge, elasping - * his hands togrther, as he looked about *" l| 1 him. "I was bred in this place. I was a 1 "Your lip is trembling." said the Ghost. k t f l^V "And what is that upon your cheekT* |i| j Scrooge muttered, with an unususl * catching in his voice, that it was a pim- Kv'^sJD ? pie; and begged the Ghost to lesd him > where he would. r | .1 "You rccollect the way?" inquired the I Spirit. & "Remember it!" cried Scroogc with fcr- 1 . j vor?"1 could walk it blindfold." II "Strange to have forgotten it for so 1^^^ . many years!" observed the Ghost. "Let a I us go on." '/ { They went to a door at the back of the If . house. It opened before them, and dis- # I closed a long, bare, melancholy room, , made barer still by lines of pLaln d?al Jjjr I forms snd desks. At one of these a lonely J* boy was reading near a feeble fire; and . Scrooge aat down upon a form, and wept I to see his poor forgotten self as he used ,-V^-IS Scrooge looked at the Ghost, and with r a mournful shaking of his head glanced A ? anxiously toward the door. e It opened, and a little girl, much young3 er than the boy. came darting in, and e putting her arms about his neck, and \ ? often kissing him. addressed him as her x "Dear, dear brother." * "1 have come to bring you home, dear j brother!" said the child, clapping her tiny hands, and bending down to laugh. "To bring you home, home, home!" "f "Home, little Fan?" returned the boy. "Yes!" said the child, brimful of glee. tfT% "Home, for good and aU. Home, for ever MKv and ever. Father is so much kinder than Ik yg* he used to be, that home's like Heaven! ^ He spoke so gently to me one dear night when I waa going to bed, that I was not T > afraid to ask him once more if you might " come home; and he said Yes, you should, 5 and sent me in a coach to bring you. And - you're to be a man!" said the child, open ing her eyes, "and are never to come * back here; but first, we're to be together 1 all the Christmas long, and have the mer nest time in all the world." "You are quite a woman, little Fan!" ?r\ ^ exclaimed the boy. ^XjT S > She clapped her hands and laughed. 8 and tried to touch his head; but. being c little, laughed again, and stood on tiptoe 5 to embrace him. Then she began to cr.-v him, in her childish eagerness, towsi Xf Continued on Page 8. A