People's Pilot, Volume 2, Number 27, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 December 1892 — ARTHURS CHRISTMAS LETTER. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

ARTHURS CHRISTMAS LETTER.

RTHUR s e ated himsel f upon the floor, in a corner of the room farthest * from his mother; he wrinkled

his eyebrows, puckered hi| mouth and cramping his little fingers around a ■tubby lead pencil began to write; and this is vvliat be wrote: “Dear santt claws: Plesedont for Get to Fill my stockin. An Id like A Sled an a par of skaTcs. An plese giv MOThEr the vEry nlcEst tklnG you rot. We Live on French street, First Chlmßly dowN 2 FLighTs. “Arthur Hill.” He stretched out his little numb fingers, with a sigh of relief; for printing was hard work foi Arthur’s chubby fist Then lie glanced furtively over his shoulder, to make sure his mother was not lpoking—but no; stitch, stitch, atitch her needle went through the heavy coat, and she did not once look up. So he folded the precious letter in a painstaking manner, and sealed it in <tlie envelope addressed: "MR. SANTY CLAWS,” wnd stuffing it into his little pocket—regardless of opposition on the pprt of letter or pocket—went softly out of the room; but his quiet movements ended on the landing just outside, and he tore down the stairs and through the streets to the post office. Perhaps the thought that there were "but two days before Christmas, and the consequent fear that the gentle reminder might not reach Santa Clans in time, gave the deer-like fleetness to his sturdy little feet. There was no one in the office, so he ■walked boldly up and dropped the let--ter through the slot, and watched it eliding down the inclined plane into ■the receiving box. Then, with a fear ■of being detected, he ran out of the office, and, with his hands in his pockets, -scampered home. Arthur’s letter lay among the others Tor a half hour or so, and then a clerk began assorting them for the mails. “Here’s a good one!” and he laughed as he held up the crumpled -envelope. “Mr. Santa Claus!” and he laughed Again, in company with two or three Alerks who had gathered around him. Just then the door opened and the ‘postmaster came in. The clerk held up the letter: “Mr. ■Santa Clans—address not given! Are ;you acquainted with the gentleman’s Mr. Morris took the envelope and laughed, also, as he glanced at it, and 'was about to throw iKdown, when a •sudden vision of four little maids, with .an unquestioning faith in Santa Claus, /jrose before him. “Perhaps I can find the gentleman,” 'T»e said, with a twinkle in his kind blue ••yes; and patting the envelope into his pocket he walked away. Jt was Christmas eve. There bad ’been a heavy snowstorm the day before, and it had cleared off very ccld. The people were muffled in furs to their eyes—if they had the furs—and Jhnrried along over the crisp snow, which sang sharp little songs under ’their feet The rude wind wrestled with them at the street corners, makj ing the gentlemen catch wildly at their Theta, and ribbons and veils flu the faces of the ladies. Jack Frost played coarse practical jokes upon everybody and everything within his reach, so that the market boys felt obliged to run with the turkeys and turnips, blowing the while upon their aching fingers or rubbing their smarting ears. The newsboys, with mufflers and Taps pulled closely down, held their ***** u “ ir “ “* **

hands in their pockets, and thrashed one foot against the other, while they ealied in cold voices to the passer-by: “Paper, sir, paper!” The heavens were studded with gleaming stars which blinked merrily down on the harrying throng; and through nneurtained windows were glimpses of gay Christmas trees with happy children dancing around them, and smiling fathers and mothers looking on. Holly wreaths hung in profnsion and festoons of evergreen and mistletoe adorned the walls; and over these happy scenes played the flickering light of the “yule” log’s glow. The church bells rang merrily, and the organ’s deep note peeled forth upon the night winds; lights streamed from the windows and through the doors as they swung to and fro, while softly on the listening ear stole the sound of vojees singing of “Peace on earth, good will toward men.” Hut the peace and warmth and glow had not reached “French street, first chimney, two flights down ” There was a little fire —Just enough to give it the name—but it seemed an empty title. The curtain was not drawn—what need of that? since the frost had worked so thick a screen that not even, a loving star could peep in with a happy Christmas greeting. Mrs. Hill, with an old shawl over her shoulders, sat close to the table, with a dim kerosene lamp beside her. She was blue with the cold, and her fingers were so stiff that the needle went laboriously through the heavy seam. Her tired eyes filled with tears now and again, but she dashed them away—every minute was precious; for if the coat was not finished to-night, and taken back—there was a sorry out look for tomorrow. And the thought of the empty larder and coalhod nerved her to frantic efforts at faster working; and when the cloctc outside told the hour of eight, it sent a colder thrill through her frame. Arthur, in spite of the cold, had pulled off one of his stockings, and was looking ruefully at a large hole in the toe. “Look!” he said, holding it up before his mother, with a comical expression on his little mottled face. “O, Arthur, how you do wear your stockings out! I mended them all up last Saturday night.” “But it corned right through again!" and Arthur glanced from the yawning stocking toe to his mother’s tired face, then back again to the stocking. “Do you s’pose the presents will come through?” “No, I am afraid they won’t,” she skid, half bitterly. “But I don’t want ’em to!” and he

looked up with a perplexed expression at his mother, who was afraid his presents wouldn’t come through. He examined the hole again, taking its dimensions by thrusting three fingers through it and stretching them apart Yes, there was no doubt a good sized toy could squeeze through that hole. “Can you mend it, mother?” “O, Arthur, don’t ask me to do anything!” she answered, fretfully, and Arthur moved away a little; for never in his life before had he heard his mother speak like tha.t But the next instant she reached out her arm, and snatched him passionately to her heart. “Arthur, slear, mother is sorry that she spoke like that to you,” and she kissed the little cold face, while her tears—so near the surface —rained over her own face and his. “I am tired, but that is no reason for my speaking crossly to you; and mother will mend the stocking before she goes to bed.” Arthur put his arras around her neck. “You’ll have a happy Christmas,” he said, looking up into her face with beaming eyes; and her tears started afresh as she looked at his hopeful face and thought of the gloomy prospect “I wish I could make a fire and warm you before you go to bed,” she said, rubbing his blue cheeks with her cold fingers, “and give you something to eat” .

“1 ain’t much hungry,” he answered, with a"brave smile. “If I finish this coat in time I shall fpet something to eat, and I will wake you up and give you some,” and kissing him, she turned back to her work and began that weary stitch, stitch. Arthur hung up his stocking, and going back to his mother pulled the shawl away a little and kissed her on the neck—a form of caress which did not interfere with the needle —and with a bright face opened the bedroom door and shut himself in. How cold it was! for the door had been shut all day, that what heat there was might be kept in the kitchen. He would like to have opened it, for a ray of light from his mother’s dim lamp, but it would make her eolder; so he kicked off his shoes, not parting with very much else, for it was too cold to undress, and jumped into bed and in a few minutes was last asleep,

dream lag, perhaps, of Christmas {eastings and Santa Claus. Arthur bad not teen dreaming long when a low knock startled Mrs. HilL What could it mean? And she trembled a little as she walked to the door and opened it. A kind-faced man with merry bine eyes was standing there; he had very fat pockets, and a sled in one hand and a parcel in the other; and Mrs. Hill trembled more than ever, but from quite another emotion than fear. Mr. Morris explained his errand; and as he stepped into the room there was a sound Of other footsteps in the little entry, but he shut the door and unloaded his pockets and laid his parcels down. “My children sent these things to Arthur,” he said, laughing, as bags of candy, nuts and raisins came out in company with “jamping-jacks” and picture books. “I hope Arthnr won’t be offended,” and he drew a little doll from the depths of one pocket. “My children are all girls, and the youngest one looked so disappointed when I suggested that a doll was not just the thing for a boy that I concluded to bring it along.” Mrs. Hill had hardly spoken; her eyes required a great deal of attention, and her lips %>ad an overmastering tendency to tremble; Mr. Morris, to relieve her, looked as little as possible in her direction. But finally there was an end to apples and oranges, toys, strings of popcorn and candy, and the rest of his errand must be accomplished; so clearing his throat, and looking hard at the ceiling, he said: “My wife thought the nicest thing for the mother would be a ton of coal and a barrel of flour.” Poor Mrs. Hill—poor Mr. Morris! for it was almost as trying for one as the other; he walked to the window and examined the frost-work; it was so thick and fine that he glanced at the stove next, and then at the empty woodbox and scuttle. The table, with its dim light, row of spools and scissors, with the unfinished coat in the chair, told the story plainly. Mrs. Hill looked up at last, and tried to thank him; and Mr. Morris said how happy they had all been in answering Arthur’s letter; aud he looked so happy as he said it, that no one could have doubted him. Then he opened the door and a man set a large basket inside and went away directly. “I shall see you again, Mrs. Hill, and I hope you and Arthur will both hav.e a very merry Christmas. Goodnight,” and he had gone before Mrs. Hill could speak. He went directly to a coal dealer and ordered a bag of coal and a basket of wood sent at once, and

did not leave the place until he had seen them on their way. Mrs. Hill was still sitting in the chair where Mr. Morris had left her when the heavy step of the men with the coal and wood, and their loud knock at the door, roused her from her reverie. The first thing she did after they had gone was to make a rousing fire. How it crackled and snapped! and she bent over the stove and rubbed her stiff fingers in the genial warmth. Then she took Arthur’s stocking, with the yawning toe, and quickly mended the big toe and put the toys in. The candy bags and strings of popcorn she hufig around it, and piled the apples and oranges in a plate on the shelf above, and stood the shining new sled beneath, with the skates, mittens and woolen scarf hanging over it. What a fine show it made! and how she longed to catch Arthur out of bed to see it! but she wanted the room to get warmer first; and then there was the basket to be unpacked. She folded away the coat—not finished, but that did not matter now—and smiled brightly as she picked up her spools and scissors and thought of the day of rest before her. There was everything in that basket —at least so thought Mrs. Hilli Two pies; a loaf of eake; another of bread; little heart-shaped cakes, sughred in pink and white; a plum puddi lg; butter; tea; coffee; sugar; cranberries; a bag of sweet potatoes; a squash; a turnip; two glasses of jelly, and a turkey. The little table was loaded; it had never groaned beneath such a weight before. Mrs. Hill hung the holly j wreath, which had lain on the top of the basket, in the window’; then opened the bedroom door. “Arthur,” she said, softly, bending over him; but Arthur did hot move. She kissed him on the he puckered up his mouth, opened it, and closed it again, with a deep breath, and was as fast asleep as ever. “Arthur, do you want to hear about Santa Claus?” The sleepy eyes opened and he rubbed them with his little fists. “W-h-a-t?” “I thought you would like to hear about Santa Claus; your presents have come." Arthur was wide awake—as what boy would not have been—and sprang ont.of bed. “Didn’t he come quick?” and he stood

is the bedroom door, Us eyes sttLi Winking, looking from the chimney to (he table, and from the table back to the chimney, am*, then up to his mother’s face. She drew him to the store, and sitting down took him on her lap. • “I didn't 'spect so much!” he exclaimed, finding his tongne at last; “but ain’t it jolly—jolly!” and clapping his hands together he threw his arms so tightly around his mother’s neck that he nearly stopped her breath and gare her a sounding kiss. “The stockin’s full—an’ you mended the hole!” and he got down on the floor and peered up under it. “It’s all sewed tight!” Then he pulled down the sled and skates, tried on the mittens, wound the scarf around his neck, seraped acquaintance with the candy, and took a bite out of a shining apple. Words! words were weak for the expression of his satisfaction; so he danced up and down the room, and clapped his hands, and laughed and whistled, and finally turned a somersault, in the intensity of bis joy. Then he and his mother had their Christmas supper in the warm room, with the fire-light shining through the cracks of the usually grim old stove. And they talked of this glad evening—for somehow the bitterness of its bp* ginning had passed from the mother’s mind, and the old carol which sings that “night is passed,” most fitly expressed the thought of her thankful heart “I can see V star!” Arthur cried, and j sure enough, the frost had melted a ' little, and a star was peeping in; oh, more than one! two, three—yes, several shining down on the poor little home, as they had shone, long years before, on lonely Juda, and telling again the old yet ever new story of the Christ* child’s birth, and of -love and peace on earth.—Annie J. Holland, in Household Monthly.

“DO YOU S’POSE THE PRESENTS WILL COME THROUGH?”