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New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, January 01, 1879, Image 3

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn89064939/1879-01-01/ed-1/seq-3/

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And peak
*epaptefofcr^fJJ
1 lo te children come.
sAnd,, lo, teelittle
)i
M
1
A statelyfirtree rear* its Head*.,! g^
With 6tare and tapers all ablaze fe
And quivering in'the fairy rays,,
-The glittering,loaded branches spread.
&
Andthe childish hearts withjoys o'erflow,
And on the birth-day long ago $*
They ponder with a grave delight.
^fllien to their gifts they tarn once more, ^4
And in the present BUBBhine lost,
They fear no future tempest-tossed,
iCSBnt unto fairy regions soar"
\$$o ciree, no fears, a happy time
Of laughter tears that cannot stay
An April dav, a year of May,
Pealed in and'out with Chriatmas chime.
"iy-*
LOST ASD POUND.
A Christmas Story*
CHAPTER I.
TEE WANDEKINO WOMAN.
Wouldit never cease? we asked, as we sat,
1 yoking out from the window, and watched
Ibe big, feathery flakes. Driven here and
there in wild swirls and eddies, by the wind,
thick as the motes that people the sun
beams," the snow came down, obscuring the
air, obliterating the ways, blurring the sharp
outline of the trees, and muffling all the
sounds of out-door life. For nearly a week
there had been sharp frost. The ice had rung
with the healthy music of the skates. And
then, without the frost breaking up, the snow
had begun to fall on Sunday night it had
snowed all day on Monday, all Monday night,
and now, after breakfast on Tuesday morn
ing, it was snowing as hard as ever. ""Would
never ceaseV" we asked.
It was but eleven o'clock, and the train
was not due at Thornley till three. It was
calculated that if the road was nassable at
all, an hour would surely be enough for the
three miles' drive. 8o till two o'clock there
was no event to fill up the time save lunch
at least there was no event that we knew of.
By-and by, old Margaret came in and said
there was poor woman in the kitchen whom
she thought the dog "Fury" had frightened
out of her wite, because she could not speak
a word that sheMargaretcould under
stand. Some two or three of us went to see
our strange visitor.
We soon found that she was no more mad
than we were, only well night in despair, and
exhausted. She could not speak one word
of English, and we found our little stock of
French, so neglected as it was, very inade
quate for conversing with her in her own
tongue. It was enough for her, however, that
at last she had actually found some one who
had heard of France, and who knew there
was such a language as the French.
The poor woman's tale was this: Her hus
band was dead. Her two little girls were just
eld enough to work at the straw-plaiting, but
not old enough to walk all day with her in
this terrible weather. Her money had been
just enough to pay their fare from Birming
ham to Dunstable", and she had sent them off
by rail that morning. At Dunstable they
Avould find a good Frenchwoman who would
take care of them. But she herself had not
money enough to ride, so had set out to walk
from Birmingham to Dunstable, a distance of
some hundred miles, for which walk she had
allowed herself three days. And now this.
morning, to begin with, she found she had got
four miles out of her way. She could find po
one to put her right, the snow was preventing
her from walking at half the pace she had
hoped to walk, and she could not in any way
get to her work at the time she had promised
to be there. She as a strong, coarse-featur
ed woman evidently very poor, and not at all
sentimental. But she did not beg, either di
frectly or indirectly. She was evidently care
ul to avoid it. She warmed herself by the
fire, but when pressed also to sit down and gat
she said no, with many thanks, and beg^d^us
to direct her on her way as well as we could,
which we did.
Before she went she took out her little well
worn purse and counted her small capital.
She asked us what we thought might be the
railway fare from Banbury to Leighton, and
we told her as near as we could guess. Then
she shut her purse and shook her head in a
way thai said she must walk it all. But being
pressed to take some little help to make up
the fare for this part of thejourney, she took
itnot without reluctance. Only once her
courage seemed to fail her. When my sister's
little boy, a rosylittle fellow, eighteen months
old, suddenly began crying to go to her, she
took him into her arms, kissed him, and cried
over him, thinking, no doubt, of her own lit
tie one* and their loneliness at this happy
Christmas time.
CHAPTER IL
POOR BERTIB.
i 'It Kitty had not been the very best little
mare that ever drew a wagon behind her, she
nevfr-w6uld have got to Thornley station. It
httd given up snowing and the eu was shin
int^a little. So, as we thought theiv would
be rtjom enough, coming back, I was tempted
to brv the weather and go down with Sam
to meet the train.
For thirty years there had been no Buch
snow-storm known in this part of the country.
As we drove alongif I should no' rather call
it plowingthe corn licks showed like so
manv tumuli. Even the highest hedgerows
could only be traced as long, sharp ridges,
for the snow had drifted against them till all
was buried save here and there a tree. There
was a mile of common land, newly enclosed,
which we had to cross, and here where all
was level, and the fences were low, it was
simply one great stretch of white, where to
keep the road was no easy matter.
Thanks mainly to the necessity of running
extra trains at Christmas time, our branch
line had with great difficulty been kept open
The trains were running, and the train for
which we had to wait was not more than a
quarter of an hour late.
Long before we saw them we could hear
our young folks. They were chaffiog the sta
tion-master.advising himto "GotoJericho,"to
"jump up," and to do other things which cer
tainly form no part of a station-master's ordi
nary duties.
Driving home was hardlyany easier a task
rthan driving out had been. For though
[we certainly had our owntrack to drive back
|upon there was the added weight of five new
passengers, which even to Kitty was no joke
on such a day as this. The boys, however,
leclared it splendid, and the more likelihood
here was of our sticking fast, the mora splen
did they declared it, the more glad they
rere
to'jumpeout pof
*CJ til
behind, and,under pretence
pushing th wagon roll each other in the
snow, and put snowballs down each other's
back6. On our way home we met two or
three other vehicles, and at all cross-roads
could see that heavy as had been the snow, it
had not been heavy enough to keep people in
doors who had the excuses of hospitality for
going out.
Home at last, just as the shades of night
were falling rapidly, andjust as the firelight
began to redden the window panes. Then
the bustle of hand-shaking, kissing, uncoat
ing, and finger-warming. Then the first gen
eral inquiries about school, and lessons, and
prices, about skating and sliding, about home
dhomefriend6. All these things were, over,
and:thelade -wgrt at
theto|, ^^HJetf
onr deeOrattona, twfp
round tbe^plctores and
ourfineerotill thevbli
denly Frank called oui
.where'e BertieI have
"Oh, he's asleep," as_^
him and hear him too by-and-by.
dingfround
were bum withdowncomfiag
wreatbB oflholly
and prfeking
doing ao Sud-
Helen: "But aunt,
tseenbiioVh
Helen youjj see
Tien as
if reminded by this, she left her holly-wreaths
and ran upstairs to seeff all The recent noise
had not waked him. In a minute she was
down again, and said: "He'B not in his cot
some of them have gofeghim in the kitchen
run, Frank, and fetch hq|."
Soon Frank was back aeaitt, and .back
without the baby. Then the mpther began
to run about the house searching, andto grow
uneasy. One ofthe maids, however,had been
sent some-half honr ago to a neighbor's, and
was expected back directly. It was presumed,
though no one had seen her take him, that
she had the baby with her. In a few minutes
shecame inandknewnothing of baby Bertie.
Baby Bertie was eighteen months old.* and
had just discontinued crawling and taken to
walking. His little feet were forever patter
ing from room to room. His little bands were
forever laying hold of friendly skirts and coat
tails. His little legs were forever carrying him
slowly up stairs and tumbling him down again
with much greater rapidity. Bertie, in short,
hadjust got to that age mat when in sight he
was in everybody's way, and when outof sight
he was a causeof constant terror lenthe should
come to mischief. It was only when he was
asleep that he was considered safe, and th*
his nurse-maid dared to turn her eyes from
him. And now he had effectually given her
and all of us the slip. At first, ot 'course, we
all of us, except Helen, madelight ofthe miss
ing baby, fcsing sure enough that lie would be
found in some ridiculously safe corner. It is
alargehouse with many"a spare room and
closet in which a child eould hide, and it took
us some time to look through them all. But
through them all we looked not once, nor
twice, but many times, withoutfindingatrace
of him. Then through the barns, the cow
houses, the stables, the very pigsties, and
every out-office of the place we went with
lanterns and candles, seeking Bertie and find
ing him not, calling Bertie and getting no
answer.
Then we set ourselves to seaich outside the
gates, holding our lanterns carefully to the
ground, and all at once in the deepclean snow
we saw the print of little feet amongst larger
feet Away down the road we followed them,
always tracing them easily amongst men's
feet and horses' feet for full two hundred
yards away from the house. There we found
the mark of where our little man had set him
self down to rest, and there, alas! we found
one of hia little boots, with a sock in it, and
from that point forward could trace the little
footprints still, the mark of the boot and the
mark of the wee naked toes now side tiy side.
Some fifty yards or so, however, from where
we found' the boot there were signs of hishav
ing wandered from the road into the deep
snow there were signs of trampling there by
other feet, and there all trace was lost. Not
another footmark could we find beyond this
point, nor any footmark that indicated that he
had turned to go home again. It was clear
that our little man had first wandered outside
the gate, had been at once confused by Ihe
snow, and lost his way had wandered on and
on, further away from home (we fancied how
the poor little thing cried, heartbroken), and
had at last lain down overcome itii cold, and
slept.
And all this while the poor mother was
with us. But now at last hy main force she
had to be taken home, and! with her, while
the search was continued without us.
At every neighboring house our people
called, hoping to gain some clue, but gaining
none. At every house, as soon as it was
known what the trouble was which sent these
white faces from neighbor Gordon's to break
in upon their happy Christmas eve, some
stout-hearted fellow" was ready to rise and
join the searchers.
How wearisume was that search, and how
eagerly conducted or how much more weari
some the terrible waiting at home, to me, to
Helen, and to the aged men who had with
difficulty been kept at home, I need not tell.
God forbid that I should ever again be wit
ness to such agonizing distress as that of my
poor sister! She sat and swayed herself to and
fro, moaning low, and refused to be comfort
ed. Then she left us, and bv-and-by I found
her kneeling at her bedsidebetter, I hoped,
for the tears whioh had come, but little short
of crazed with grief.
And so the two weary hoursseeming a
whole nil ht ratherwore away, and at last
we heard onr friends at the gate again, talk
ing low, as if in consultation, and then we
heard quiet "good-nights," and heard Kitty
led slowly away, and heard the footsteps of
two or three coming into the kitchen, quietly
and not speaking to each other. And we
looked into eacn other's, faces with dull, lead
en eyes, and no one roseto go out and ask the
news.
It was like a house into which death has
entered with the unwonted silence and quiet
The yery deg sharedin the gloom, and allowed
any one who liked to pass and repass without
a bark or a motion, as if it knew that the
house had lost its Measure, and that there was
no need to keep watch and guard any more.
Then came in my husband and Edwin.
Their news was soon told. They had driven
along the south road for about an hour, till
they had overtaken a poor woman whom they
Questioned as to whom had passed her. It
proved to be our poor Frenchwoman, and as
Edwin talks French fluently, they soon learnt
from her that nc one had passed her who
could by any possibility know anything of the
child. The poor creature had to stay and rest
so often that she had made hardly any pro-g
ress on her journey, and was already long
ing for any place where she could stay the
night. She soon gathered from Edwin that
the lost child was he whom she had fondled
in the morning, and then she forgot her own
care and eagerness to pursue her way, and
begged to be taken back to help in the search.
So they had brought her with them, and she
was wandering about alone with a lantern,
not content till she had looked for herself into
all the places where we had all looked before
her.
The sad summary of it all was that no one,
of all who had been searching, had gained the
sligntest trai.e of poor, lost Bertie.
CHAPTER III.
JTAJtROW ESCAPE OP MADAME GUILLOT.
1 ho- the reader will never make one to
sit iu so sad a circle as that which gathered
about our fire when the search was stayed.
The big Christmas tree stood in its pride,
decked with all its fruit of toys and presents
and loving inscriptions. Tables groaned un
der the jolly Christmas cheer that waited for
the oven.
You are not to suppose that search was
abandoned. We '"ere sitting only while we
could decide what to do next. Not one of us
but felt it would be more endurable to wan
der searching, even against hope, amongst
the snow through all the livlong night than
to sitthere nursing our own sad thoughts.
We might lave sat in this way perhaps
half an hourall of us together except Davie
and Frank, who were still out with the
Frenchwomanwhen suddenly wewere star
tled by aloud scream of fright^repeated two
or three times, and each time checked, as it
Ecemed, by force, and. accompanined by a
sharp, savage growl.
Rushing out to the door, whence the sound
came, we found poor Madame Guillot (for this
was her name) on her back, securely held
down by Fury, whom Davie and Frank were
trying to remove, without success. Fury's
heavy paw was flung aeross her throat, and it
was only when he raised it for an instant that
Madame was able to scream. When she did
^msm^iUB^im^mm'wm^mi MmiSM^M^mms^^mm.
scream, she was at once checked by the
of the heavy paw, accompan
ied by a terrible growl and an admonitory
shakingof her.ample petticoats. Beyond her
fright andher shaking, the good woman was
none the worse, and of these she seemed to
think little, for the instant we had her on her
feet she broke from us and rushed again into
theveryjawsofFury. The dog, however, was
too many for her, and instantly had her on
her back as before. But Helen had seen some
thing now. There it was indeed, the "little
6hoe"the second redshoe, companion to the
one found in the lane. It was lying just out
side Fury's kennel, and the light fell full up
on it from the lantern. in an in
stant Helenhad in her hand, and found that
not only wasit the missing shoe but that one
of the missing feet was inside itnay, that
one of the missing legs was attached to the
foot, andthe whole of the rest of the missing
body attached to the leg! By the leg, 'n fact
the missing Bertie was dragged out, covered
with straw, busily rubbing his eyes with his
little fists, and just waking up from a very
sound sleep in which he had been indulging
in Fury's apartment. Fury, seeing that he had
lost his ward, at once liberated Madam Guil
lot of bis own accord, and pushing his big
nose in amongst us, began to assist Bertie to
wake, by vigorously licking his face, till Hel
en, snatching him up, rushed with him into
the house.
We, looking into the kennel, saw where he
had made his little nest It was in the corner,
completely out of sight, and sheltered from
the wind. He had nestled into the clean
straw with'whichFury is alwayswell supplied,
andthen it was pretty clearthat Fury had lain
down beside him, if not upon him, and had
cuddled him up as warmly as if he had been
in his mother's arms. We understood
now why the dog had refused to go out and
search with us, and why he had barked so
little all through the night.
It was not so easy to understand now the
child had got back and got into the kennel,
'without leaving a trace of a returning foot
step. And this mystery was not cleared up
to us till next day. The explanation, howev
er was simple enough, and might as well be
given atonce. A schoolboy had met him, wand
reing away, and knowing him, had lifted him
up and carried him home, had been afraid to
Si
ass the dog, and so had set him down to run
at the open kitchen door. Bertie, instead of
doing so, hadturned in at Fury's door, which
happened to be nearest and had instantly
gone to sleep, while the school boy had posted
off to a village some few miles away.
It was in some respects almost as touching
to 6ee the mother's joy as it had been to see
her sorrow. For was not Bertie her one child
and she a widow? and what.more could I say
to tell you that bothjoy and sorrowwere keen
est that can thrill this mortal body. Let me
drop the veil.
Madam Guillot spent the Christmas day
with us, and on the following morning we
drove her down to Thornley station, ana saw
her off with a through ticket in her pocket
to Dunstable.
TIBBY AND TOSEY.
Kitty had been to the charity ball, and
the charity ball was very fashionable
there was 'no doubt about that. Kitty
had eaten a late supper, returned home,
gone to bed and to sleep there was no
doubt of that. She recollected distinctly
throwing one shoe under the bed and
the other into a corner, saying "Good
night" to her own figure in the looking
glass, twisting the figure of a butterfly
till her fingers ached before she discov
ered that it was not the gas-stopper, and
then laughing sleepily at all her mis
takes. She even remembered the fiist
dream of her sleep, which was something
about charity diamonds, chicken-salad,
lancers, and ice-cream waltzes.
No there was no doubt that she had
gone through all this yet there she was,
staring in at the windows ot the great
ball-room, and the ball was just com
mencing. Could she have gone to sleep
on the window sill in some mysterious
manner. No she was outside, and
standing in the air, with somebody
holding on to her hand!
"Oh, dear," thought Kitty, mournfully,
"1 must have drank some wine somehow
How strange it is! I wonder how I
came here! But what a cold hand holds
mine it's not papa's, for it makes me
shiver. He must be horrid. I won't
look at him. So!"
There did not seem to be much need of
the resolve, however for the person who
held her hand did not move nor seem
to care whether she saw him or not, but
quietly looked in with her. So, at last
like most girls, Kitty's curiosity got the
better of her, and she cautiously glanced
out of the corners of her eyes.
Beside her she saw an old man. His
oeard and hair were long and white, and
dropped about his neck and shoulders,
like falling snow. Upon his head was
lightly placed a crown, as of frost-work,
so delicate was its texture. Robes, long
and dark, and cold to look at, fell in
broad folds trom his shoulders, and were
held to his waist by a girdle of twink
ling stars. He was gazing in at the bril
liant assemblage with a sad, melancholy
look upon his face.
Kitty looked at his robes.
'How very old-fashioned!'' she
thought "and aged, very aged."
"Yes." murmured the" old man "old,
very old
Kitty started. He read her thoughts,
evidently. She was sorry now she had
thought it, he looked so sad.
"Who are you?" asked Kitty timidly:
"end why have you brought me here?"
"I am the Cold Night," said the old
man, slowly turning his eyes toward her.
His eyes were sharp and piercing, yet
full of kindness. "And I have brouzht
you here that you might see how great
your charity is, for I heard this was a
charity-ball."
''Yes,1'
said Kitty nervously.
"I am a friend of the poor," continued
the Cold Night "and I love to see char-
ity.'" He looked oack into the ball-room
as he spoke. "You see all your friends
here?"
"Yes," said Kitty, brightening up, and
sazing inside with something of a proud
look. 'There's Florry Hall right before
the window now. She has those beauti
ful solitarie diamonds in her ears. Oh,
dear, bowbrightthey look. I wish I had
them."
"But you had the handsomest dress,"
said the Cold Nigh, sadly.
uOh, yes," exclaimed Kitty, quickly.
It was of the richest silk, and cost sever
al hundred dollars. Papa was BO kind."
"And was it bought forcharity?" asked
the Cold Night.
Why no," answered Kitty, surprise.
"For me, ot course."
"But the ball is for charity?"
Kitty began to be bewildered by so
much catechising and she was much
relieved when he led her away.
They descended to the grand entrance,
where he pointed out two" little beggars,
a boy and a girl, who fiddled and sang,
and asked a penny of the rich people de
scending from the carriages.
"You passed them by to-night?"
"Yes," said Kitty, *but thev are horrid
beggars." The Cold Night "was silent,
and Kitty was afraid she might have said
something wrong, so she added: "And
common street fiddlers."
But the Cold Night said nothing.
They both watched the little duo,
Tosey and Tibby, the Cold Night said,
and drew nearer to hear what they would
say. People, rich with money and great
in charity, carefully passed them by, for
they were ragged baggars, and fiddled
and sang. It was cold, very cold and
Tosey played very, very slowly, while the
breath ef Tibby's quivering plaint disap
peared dispairingly in the frosty air. The
wheels ot carriages seemed to creak in
sympathy, as they crushed down in the
snow. Yes, it was cold indeed, yet they
fiddled and sang untiringly, while the
rich people alighted and passed up the
grand entrance, after glancing contempt
uously at the poor little duo, who fiddled
and sang as the brillant dresses disap
peared in the distant doorway but finally
stopped as the last carriage drove awav.
"I suppose we looks too awful," said
Tosey, wettiugly his lips and feeling
vacantly in the small pocket, which God
knows, had not seen so much as a dime
for many and mauv a day.
"Yes, said Tibby, "but I does feel so
hungry, and I sang so loud, and I tried
so h*rd, and"
Tibby slightly sobbed and silently
used a small piece of her shawl to wipe
away a large tear.
'iDon't cry," said Tosey, tremulously:
"let's move on, and perhaps we'll find a
little somethin'. Oh, if we only had a
few pennies!''
Tosey took Tibby's hand and they start
ed to move away."
"Oh, Mr. Cold Night,,
--\T
&K
W^B^. iriiimiMMHiirir T.-firt/fr. ri^-uirrt MI-it fa i ft -it-
mssmk^-wm-mr ^:~^M*^m$^mis^
exclaimed Kit-
ty sorrowfully, "let me give them some
thingpoor little things!"
"But they are beggars," answered the
Cold Night
Kitty looked ashamed. She could feel
herself blush, even though she was cold
and shiverinc. The cold Night handed
her a silver piece.
"Yes," said he drop it, even if it's
wasted. See what they will do."
Kittfr took it quickly and dropped it
before them. Right at Tibby's foot fell
the money, which she would have passed
unnoticed jf Tosey had not exclaimed
"Oh, Tibby, there's a dime!'' and pick
edit un.
Tibby clasped her hands in delitrht,
danced up and down and then looked in
to his hand, to be sure that it was really
there. It was surely.
"Won't we have a hot potato, though!"
said Tosey.
"And a big roll, and some butter, and
some meat, and just a verv little piece of
pie?"
Tibby named each of them on the ends
of her fingers, but stopped when she got
to her thumb, for the money was all gone
by that time, and the thumb was quite
large.
"But bow did it come there?" asked
Tosey.
"Could it have growed?" suggested
Tibby.
"No," said Tosey.
"Fell from the sky?"
"Guess not," sa
Tosey, dubiously.
"Or been flunged?"
"Oh, no, oi course not!" Tosey an
swered, emphatically.
They both looked hungrily at the piece
of money, and began to count together
what lots of things they could buy and
their faces grew blight, indeed, as they
thought of it.
From the shades ot the opposite side
of the entrance, a thin bundle of rags
slowly crept, and steadily shuffled up to
them. Out of the dirt and rags peered a
thin face and glistening eyes, and the
hands of the small bundle wearily rub
ned themselves together, to try and stir
up the blood that was not there.
"This is a charity ball," said the thin
bundle. "Theje folks dances for the poor."
The glistening eyes looked eagerly at
Tosey and Tibby, and frequently glanced
at the money in their haads. "Weis
poor, and they dances for us and me
mother, who is sick abed, they dances to
give us the bread which we seldom has."
"Tosey looked in surprise at the thin
bundle rubbing its hands.
"And does they dress in nice closes for
us, and ride in carriages, and give lots ot
money, and all for us?"
The thin bundle rubbed faster and
faster.
"Yes, if there's any more than as pays
for the dancin' and the dressin' and the
dancin' costs ten dollars apiece, and the
dressin' I dunno! It's all for us,if theie's
any left."
"But they didn't give us any when I
sang," saia Tibby.
"Lors, no!" said the thin bundle "they
has folks as hunts up poor folks when
they has time, and sews flannels when
they hasn't. Yes, they says they does
all this for us, but" The "bundle shook
its head as it it were doubtful, and con
tinued:
"I stood over yonder thinkin' some
body would give me somithim' but they
all looked mad at me, and I went back
into the shadder and watched 'em. It
was a big sight, but I'm jest as hungry."
The hands stopped rubbing, and the eyes
looked wet, as the bundle added "My
mother is very,very sick. Oh, we's poor,
so poor!"
Tosey looked at his little sister a* the
rags began to shuffle away.
"Tibby," says he, "does we feel so vm$?
fill hungry?"
Tibby hesitated. She looked at the SST
ver,andthenatthelslowlyretreatingfigure- and then she looked up into Tosey's
gentle, loving face.
"No, Tosey, I dunno as I does." '"1
Tosey turned around, and running
after the departing figure, handed her
the piece of money.
"There," says he, "take it you need itr
more than we does."
The bundle looked in surprise as she
took the piece, and tears fell down the
thin, pale face. Butshe only said:
"I'm very, verv arrateful," "and walked*
off.
The two little musicians watched the
figure as it disappeared in the darkness,,
while the happy shuffle grew fainter an&
fainter.
Ah, here was charity, Godlike charity,,
in the hearts of the beings the rich de
spised and thrust from their doer!
As the Cold Night turned toward
Kitty he found her silently wiping fctr
eyes.
"Do you see what true charity is?r
asked he, in a sweet, sympathetic voice."
"Yes, yes," murmured Kitty "I see, I.
see."
While they were talking, they bad
slowly risen up, to the brilliant windows
again.
"Now look at the mocKery," said ihc
Cold Night, somewhat harshly.
It was themost brilliant hour of tba
ball. Light from myriads of jets, em
bedded in massive chandeliers, sparkled}
with dazzling intensity, making the
brightest day of gloomy night. People
decked with jewels and silks and laee^
were gathered in merry groups, orjoining
in pleasurable dance to the strains *A
sweet and lively music. It was a beauti
ful sight indeed but somehow the people
looked heartless to Kitty, and the jewels
glittered spitefully, while the rich silks
seemed to hiss and hiss as they rustled
along, as if all were rebelling agams^
their false use.
"But one more act,"'said the Cold Nighty
gently leading her down, down to the
opposite side of the street.
From a dark corner, with their amis
twined about each other's necks, the two
little beggars watched the windows of the
brilliantly lighted hallaway up in the
sky it seemed watched the gaj figures
that frequently appeared in rich, dainty
dresses, and smiled to think it was &1?
for the poor and needy,
v. "They dances for us and for others,"'
murmured Tibby, "for those as is in wajat
Maybe the beautiful ladies will find us
here to-morrow, and give us some breH3.
"Yes," said Tosey "aud the poor imle
girl at has the 6ick mother. P'mips
they'll find them, and help them, too.*'
The Cold Night waved his band above*
them, and they both shivered, and saiS.
how cold it was. Tosey tried to play a.
note on his violin, but the strings creaked*
so dismally that he laid it aside. Then,
tbey sang together the sweet little song
of charity which Tibby had sung to tbe
rich .people and, as they sang, the Col3
Night spread his mantle slowly around
them until they were fast asleep.
"Oh, sir!" cried Kitty, "spare thero,.
and let tbem live."
"No," said Cold Night, "they &.e too
poor to live. They must die.""
Kitty fell on her knees before him.
"Oh, sir!" she pleaded beseechingly,
"I am rich and will take care ot tkei~
and relieve them from suffering.
But the Cold Night raised Ma haiwi
and pointed upward, saymg i
"Too late, too late!"
Aja he spoke he took the beggars in hi^
aims and slowly rose up toward the stara,
leaving Kitty sobbing on the ground. As
she knelt there she heard, high in tbe
skies, the song tbat the beggars &&nxy tbe
song of sweet charity, swelling to a
mighty chorus, as one would think to
celebrate a mighty deedmighty in the
sight of heaven. Stu tried to raise het
head but rould not, she seemed bouod lo
the earth by a great weight, as of gold,
while above the song grew fainter aad
lamter, till at last it ceased, then she feli
into a deep swoon.
It was broad daylight when ICitfy
awoke, and the sun was shining brigbtiy
into her window. In the hall the maid,
was bumming a subdued song as she
went blithely about her work while* with
out the white smoke of mcrning riies
signs of stirring lifecurled upwards
from the chimney-tops into tbe coo5 ah
as if glad to meet the light of day.
"It was only a dream yet, ob, how-
vivid?'" thought Kitty, as she rubbed ber
eyes again and again, surprised to see the
walls ot her own pretty room actually
around her.
"Only a dream, only a dream yet, )JOW~
full of truth!" cheerily rang the milk
man's bell as Kitty donned her mcrning
dress while, as she passed down tbe
broad staiicase the great hall clock isecm
ed to say:
'Only a dream, only a dream yet
there's a lesson, yet there's a lesson '7
and
Kitty pondered.
A year from that time Kitty passed by
the same old clock but this time it said,
as it ticked, ticked away.
"Only a dream yet it's made ber an
angelangel of mercy to suffering need..
Her name, so dear to ui, is a name
love amongthe poor. Ah, happy, happy
was the day when, to her eyes, a dreiora
revealed true charity^
"Did you ever see an elephant'B skin
asked a teacher in an infant schooL
did," shouted a six-year-old at the fast
of the class. "Where?" inquired tbe
teacher, considerably amused at his earn
estness. "On tbe elephant," shouted the
prodigy, gleefully.
For dinner and reception toilets the
neck dress ot crepe li&se niching is still
the moat popular. The windows of onr
fashionable stores and shops- ore filled
with rich, beautiful and unique novelties*
and goods,and in many cases, handsome^
ly and artistically displayed.
jimMST"*

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