People's Pilot, Volume 5, Number 27-25, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 January 1896 — TWO CHRISTMAS EVES [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

TWO CHRISTMAS EVES

[Copyright, 1895, by American Press Association. ] CHAPTER I. HOW THE FIKST ONE CAME. “Nob another word, sir,” said old Ebon Withers in his usual decisive manner. “I know nothing about the girl, and I don’t desire to, bub I do not intend you to marry for some years, and then you aro not to choose a penniless'bride. You are to build up tho family fortune, sir, not scatter it. No; I will not listen.” And ho turned to his morning paper again. Young Eben said more than his prayers sometimes, and it would not do to set down all ho said to himself as ho left the room. Ho was as plucky a lad as there was in seven counties around, but he bad always been obedient, partly from a sense of duty and partly because of the genuine love that existed between father and son. But even young Eben, after he met Miss Mildred, saw things a little differently and would perhaps have used another word than love in speaking of his father. Certainly it did not seem as if his filial love was very strong when he came to tell her what his father had said. In thoso days he told her everything. Afterward he grew older and learned a good many things. Miss Mildred did not take it well. Young Eben was dissatisfied witli the promptness with which she said that she

would never forgivo herself if sho should be tho cause of a quarrel between him and his father. Young Eben looked at her attentively beforo spoaking again, and that was a thing calculated to bewilder a man. You couldn’t fully appreciate tho beauty of her brown hair with its odd gleams of red and of gold before you would bw admiring her bread low forehead, full in the temples, rounded and symmetrical as it was. Then a flash from her deep, large, hazel eyes would fasten your gaze for a moment,' till the perfect complexion and chiseled, classic features would coax it away, and the sweet glory of her face would perplex you so with its multiplicity of charms, that you would fall to wondering which of thorn was most to bo desired. All this beauty, which his father had undertaken to deny to him, without even seeing it, made young Ebon desperate. “Then you want mo to marry some other woman,” he said. “No, no! Never!” sho exclaimed almost wildly as she throw her perfect arms around his neck and began to sob at the thought. Her quick emotions were not the least of her charms. And that is why she did not take it well® She would, and she wouldn’t listen to either side of tho question. Young Eben must obey his father, and ho must never cease to love her, nor ever marry any ono else. And nothing was ever to induce her to waver in any respect. It was delightful —and somewhat perplexing. “If you won’t settle tho matter,” ho said finally, “I will.” This, by the way, was what he had intended from tho first. “Settle it, how?” she asked in some alarm. | “By marrying you,” ho said firmly, “but not just now. I will do nothing rashly.” It must be said that tho next few months were pretty hard ones for tho boy. He had set himself to wait till ho should be of age, the next December, not with the thought of defying his father even then, but because he would render his service loyally to the last day. So time went on. His duty was done at his desk in the counting room so well that his father could not complain, rigid taskmaster though he was. Ilis sweetheart was not neglected, and yet he found time, or made it, to keep np bis studies faithfully. Of ootirse, the birthday came in due time. Birthdays do. In the morning old Bben met him with something liko emotion. “I have looked forward to this day,” he •aid, “as anxiously as you. You have boon • good son and I believe you always will .JmT lam proud of you, and I bellevo you

will live to be proud of yourself. Now that you are a man I want to start you with this. It is yours to do with as you like.” “This” was a check for a small fortune. He took it from his pocket as he spoke and banded it to the young man, who flushed with surprise and perfectly natural,pleasure as he looked at it. “It would be idle, sir, to try to thank you in words for this, or for all your kindness to me all my life, ” ho said. “But I have something else to ask. Even this princely gift of money seems small compared to that.” Old Ebeu’s face darkened. He did not like to hear money spoken of lightly, and It seemed an ungracious speech. However, he spoke kindly and with all sincerity. “What is it, my son? You are not likely to ask anything that I could refuse today.” “I want you, sir, to reconsider what you said about my marrying. Lot me introduce you to the woman”— The dark face grew rigid. “Lot us understand this now,” said the father interrupting. “I insist upon your obedience so long as I play the part of a father. I have ho legal claim, I know”— “Don’t talk of a legal claim, father,” said the son, interrupting in his turn. “Very well. It is not a claim, but lam still your father, and so long as you continue in my home you aro my son. Let me hear no moro of this folly. I will never consent to this marriage. Do you understand?”

“I do, God help me!” exclaimed young Ebon. “And you must understand mo also. I shall certainly marry the girl I love, and I do not change, sir, any more than you. I will obey you in all else, but not in that.” “Then wo may as well part now,” said old Eben, stung beyond endurance by the first defiant words lie had ever listened to. “You can havo no claim on mo hencoforth.” “If wo part,” said tho lad, his voice breaking, “let us part in kindness at least. I ask for nothing more.” And ho stepped forward with his hands outstretched. But.the other drew back. “I said you had no claim on niif My kindness was for my son, not for an ingrate. Obey mo and everything shall bens it was. If not, go now.” With a despairing gesture the young man turned away, but his father spoke again. “Stop a moment,” he said. “You have forgotten your check.” And he pointed to where young Eben had dropped it on tho table. “I gave you that, sir, beforo you had defied me. It is still yours.” “I cannot take it, father,” said young Eben, with some spirit, though not defiantly. “ You would not give it to me now, and I cannot receive what docs not come from your hearty good will.” “As you choose.” said his father. “I certainly would not give it to you now.” And after the young man left tho room he picked up the slip of paper and toro it in Li.ts before throwing it into tho fire. Then, seating himself at the tablo, he rang for his breakfast. When it was brought, however, he sat for an hour looking straight before him and finally, leaving it untouched, lie arose and wentto his office. “God help your poor father,” said Mildred as she nestled in young Ebon’s arms in tho shelter of their new home the night before Christmas. “Amen!” said young Eben. “He is poor indeed in liis loneliness, but I never can cease loving him.”

CHAPTER 11. lIOW THE SECOND ONE WENT. It Was a bright, happy year for ’ tho youngsters, Cont rary to the laws of fiction, for they had love and hope and hard work to fill the time and good common sense to guido them, but old Eben had never relented, and there was a shadow over the little home, happy as it was. One evening late in tho year young Eben had como homo from his work and settled himself, as his habit was, to study, when ho was suddenly interrupted. “1 want lo talk a little while,” said Mildred, pulling his book away and seating herself on bis knee. “Good,” said young Eben, smiling, “but you mustNpay for my time.” But after she had dono that very satisfactorily with a kiss sho sat for a long time with her head on his shoulder, saying nothing till at length ho said, “I thought you wanted to talk to me, dear?” Still she was silent a moment, as if it were hard to begin. Then sho said, “What would you like best for a Christmas bres cut?” Young Ebon laughed. “It’s some time to Christmas yet,” lie said. “I hadn’t thought. Besides you gave me the most precious gift in tho world last Christmas. Anything elso would seem very small after that.” “How lovely to say that!” she exclaimed, kissing him again. “And to say it as if you meant it. But that is* just wliat I am afraid of.” This was bewildering. “What aro you afraid of?” asked young Ebon. “I think”—she faltered, “that the angels are going to bring you—about Christmas time—a blessed gift, straight from heaven, and I’m afraid you’ll love it moro than you dome.” Then camo a flood of tears—happy ones that young Eben was too wise to try to stop. Old Eben might havo softened a bit if ho had known about this, but, of course, he didn t. He kept himself well informed about the lad he loved, but proud as ho was to see that his son could make his way in tlie world without help, lie was sensi-

tive enough to feel it an injury to his own importance and unreasonable enough to feel his anger increasing week by week. One day when ho was more incensed than , usual ho made a will leaving all his fortune to a distant cousin, Alice Withers, who had coine to keep house for him. When he told her about it that night, a gleam of triumph came in her narrow eyes. It was what sho had hoped and schemed for, but her face was gravo, and her voice steady, as she spoke in reply: “You are doing too much for me, Cous-

In Eben,” she said. “I have done nothing *o deserve such kindness, and, pardon me for saying it, you are doing a cruel injustice to your son.” It was a crafty speech, for she knew that the old man would resent the charge of injustice, and her eyes hashed again when he said harshly, “I have no son. I had one, but he left me. Never mention him again.” And so the breach seemed hopeless, but Christmas was coming again, and strange magic is working everywhere in the Christmas season, softening men’s hearts and quickening all impulses to peace and good will. As tho year drew to a close old Eben grew weaker and more infirm. Day after day he sat alone, careless of his business, thinking always of his ruined hopes and eating his heart. On young Eben’-s birthday 1m shut himself in his room and would see no one, but ho was harder than evir next day. moved him till that strange magic of Christmastide came. Here, there and everywhere it worked, penetrating

even old Ebon's mansion, despite the barred doors, and reaching his stony heart as he sat thinking of his well beloved son, and of the wife of his youth, so long dead. It was another stormy Christmas eve. Suddenly ho rang for a servant and sent for his lawyer in haste and within an hour he sat alone again, looking with a happy smile at tho new will ho had made. “I will go to my son in the morning, ” he said to himself, “and wo will have a happy Christmas once more.” Smiling tenderly, he fell asleep in his armchair in front of the great open fireplace, whero tho flames wore roaring up the chimney. After a time he awoko with a start. Between him and the fire stood Alice, reading the will ho had just made. She was furious with rage as he saw at a glance, and just as he started she was about to tear tho document in two. With an angry cry lie leaped forward, his indignation giving him a strength ho had not felt for months. His cry startled her, and with a quick movement sho cast tho paper into the flames before he could reach her. Thou with a mocking laugh sho turned toward him. “Fool!” sho began. “Do you think”— And then she stopped. The shock had boon too much for the old man, and ho fell on tho floor before her insensible. ° That night in young Ebeu’s cottago there camo a feeble wail, telling that a new horn soul had flown in through the storm to the warm shelter of a happy mother’s arms. All was well, the nurse said as sho brought the lusty man child out, for Eben to see,, and tho young father’s heart was moved with a great yearning. It must not be, lio thought, that tliero should be any anger or hatred any more in tho world. Whatever lay in his power ho would do to bring peace. So, when the first excitement was over and ho was told that Mildred was asleep and must not bo disturbed, he buttoned himself in his greatcoat and set out in the storm to seek his father’s house and ask once moro for his love. The wind buffeted him, and he laughed. jTho driving snow beat upon him, and he shook it off lightly. Suddenly a paper fluttered along on tho gale and struck him in tho face, and he instinctively reached up and caught it. Then, stepping undey a light, ho looked to see what it might bo. Here was magic, if you please. Tho will that Alice had thrown into the flames had boon caught in tho roaring draft of the old fashioned chimney and had been carried by tho spirit of Christmas straight to the hands of tho heir. It was scorched a little, but not injured. Young Eben glanced through it and then noted tho date, and with a glad shout sprang" forward again. At his father’s door Alice met and would have stopped him, but ho pushed her aside with a laugh and went straight to tho old man’s room. There lay old Eben, weak from liis fainting fit, but little tho worse for it. “My son! M-y son!” he cried out eagerly. “Now I can die In peace.” “Die nothing!” exclaimed young Eben, with a cheery laugh. “Gbd has sont you a grandson and a son tonight. You’ll havo many a merry Chirstmas yet with me and mine.” And so it was. DAVID A. Cuims.

“LET US PART IN KINDNESS”

“FOOL!” SHE BEGAN.

HE LOOKED TO SEE WHAT IT MIGHT BE.