Rensselaer Republican, Volume 21, Number 16, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 December 1888 — A SAINT BY ACCIDENT. [ARTICLE]

A SAINT BY ACCIDENT.

My Painful Adventure on Chrismas Eve.

Charles H. Dennis. I suppose Christmas has its bright side for some people, though I don’t think much of it myself. All this precious nonsenfee about Santa Claus makes me sick. The fact is I did the Santa Claus act last year, and I didn’t like it. Since then it hurts my feelings if any one mentions Christmas in my presence. Though I am of a sensitive disposition, I have achieved prominence in my calling. lam prepared to affirm, with becomingmodesty, that I was a first class journeyman burglar when I met with a painful adventure on Christmas eve of last year. I had been taking life easy for some time, merely doing a quiet job of housebreaking to keep my hand in. So it happened that the day before Christmas I found my pocket nearly empty. That discovery set me to work at once picking I chanced to fall in with on the crowded street corners, but I quickly grew disgusted with the undertaking. Purses were plenty, but those which I gathered in made me none the richer, except by a few stray dimes. The substantial dollars which I hoped to find had been invested in woolly dogs, wooden elephants and rubber dolls, to be hung on Christmas trees and chewed up by red gummed babies. The shopkeepers had already helped themselves to the contents of those purses,and I was nowhere. richly dressed lady on the street was out shopping with only a battered nickel, a crooked hairpin and a crushed caramel in her purse. I actually blushed with shame when I discovered that the silvermounted pocket book of a prodigious swell who chanced to pass contained only a frayed pawn ticket and three coffee grains. Though I disliked to devote myself to professional duties on Christmas eve there «ppeared to be no help for it, I decided to do a burglary or two that night, and thus lay by a little nest egg for the holidays. Those who have neyen done anything in the burglary line’cannot fully realize how much harmless enjoyment they have missed. There is something decidedly alluring ’'in the aspect of a wealthy citizen’s private establishment as it appears when viewed from the interior at two or three o’clock in the morning. You feel a certain sense of proprietorship in all that lies around you as soon as you have crawled through the area window or let yourself down from the trap door in the root As you stroll through the handsome roomil, dark-lantern in hand, you meet with agreeable little surprises in the shape- of gold-lined goblets, diamond rings, and other desirable objects which seem to be waiting for you to take them ip charge. Gentlemen of the profession are not given to boasting, but if they should overcome their -natural modesty they might tell stirring tales of happy moments spent under the hospitable roofs of the most distinguished families of the land. Not a few of them are fond of art bric-a-brac. A friend of • mine, for instance, has made with some pains a collection of massive punch-bowls which formerly’belonged to noted statesmen and financiers. As he shrinks from notoriety, I shall not mention his name..... ' '~‘i•’ j On the Bight of which I have been speaking Tyemoved a pane from the kitchen window of a mansion on afashionable avenue. Then I scrambled through the opening without taking the trouble to send up my card. There in the darkness I adjusted my mask and lighted my lantern; then I started to makes tour of the premises. 'I was not - long in finding a quantity of things which I desired to posess I immediately began gathering them up preparatory to carrying them away. i While I was standing on tiptoe in order

to reach the top shelf of the china closet something remarkable happened. Somebody behind me spoke. It was a man. He said: < “George, here’s Santa Clause now.” I turned about and reached for my revolver. The next instant the ugly brown muzzle of a shot gun was poked in my faee,- Lthrew down my lantern and threw up my hands. “Merry Christmas, Santa Claus,” said the young man who held the gun at my head. “Delighted to see you. May I be so bold as to inquire what you are doing in his closet?” “It aas an—an accident,” I stammered. “You see, I—l made a mistake—”

“Well, don’t feel badly about it,” said the man with the gun. “It’s all right, Santa Claus. Make yourself perfectly at home.” - . “Invite your friend to step this way, Bob,” said another young jnas who had been leaning negligently on a big iron poker near by. As he spoke he turned toward a door leading to an adjoining room. “With pleasure, George. My dear Santa Claus, will you be so good as to come with us? - ’ Ihe muzale of Bob’s gun silently repeated this polite invitation, and I had no hesitation in accepting it. On reaching the next room the young man with the poker turned to me and said, with a sweeping gesture in the direction of a big Christmas tree which towered at his side: , “Behold, Santa Claus, what you were doubtless ‘ooking for when we intruded upon you? “Let me suggest that any little token of affection which you may choose to leave for the, occupants of this house might very well be tied on the branches of this tree as we carelessly neglected to hang up our stockings. We shall be happy to render you any assistance we can.” —“Gent’s,” I said, “ if you’ll let me explain-”

“Now,” exclaimed Bob, “I insist, my dear Santa Glaus, that no explanation is necessary. This being Christmas eve, nothing is more natural than that you should give us a call. I assure you that you are welcome. Your appearance is not precisely what I should have expected, but that is a mere trifle. Now shall we proceed to business?” “Anything that suits you, gents,” I muttered. The two were such cool hands thaLLma ready to drop with amazement. _ " ~ —“George,’ 2 said the chap with the shot-gun, “be good enough to assist our distinguished friend to arrange his presents on tne Chritmas tree.” “With pleasure,-Bob. Santa Claus, if you will keep your hands above your head in that graceful position a little while longer I will attend to all the minor details cf the ceremony.” With that he dived into my pocket and fished out my revolver. “What a pretty toy!” exclaimed George as he turned it about in his hands. “That will have a charming effeet when hung properly. n * He mounted a step-ladder and tied my revolver to the topmost bough of the tree. “Ah, what have we here;” exclaimed George, as he reached into my pocket again and drew forth a sandbag, a little weapon for which I have a special fondness. “This is almost as pretty a trinket as the other.” Then he hung it on the "tree. ; \ ■ After that he strung up my dark lantern. Then in turn he pulled off my mask, robbed me of my jimmy, a bottle of chloroform, a bunch of skeleton keys and several other instruments peculiar to my line of business. He also pulled my shoes out of my pocket, where I had placed them before entering the house tor sate-keeping until I should be ready to depart. All these articles he gravely tied on the branches of the Christmas tree. When George had swung my shoes across a bough and had trotted down the step ladder for the last time he struck an attitude and said: - “I am charmed, my dear Santa Claus, to have the privilege of returning thanks for these beautiful presents. Your taste is excellent I trust you will give ns permission to distribute them as we choose among the other members of our family. Ah, thanks; I see that you consent. And now, Santa Claus, I and my emotional friend at your side have a confession to make. For some years past we have been skeptical regarding your existence. We doubted whether you would come to-night to deck our Christmas tree, and so we arose from bed at this unholy hour of night to deck it ourselves. But our skepticism has been properly rebuked by you and we humbly beg your pardon. Do you grant it? Ah, thanks” ~ I made no attempt to reply to this rubbish. After a painful pause I said: “Gents, with your permission, I think I’ll be going.” “So soon!” remarked Bob, getting a better grip on his gun. “This is hard,” he added, pretending to weep. ♦ “Adieu, Santa Claus,” said George. “Don’t forget to make us another Tall next Christmas.”, I started for the door. “The chimney is over yonder, Santa Claus,” said Bob, wagging his head in the direction of the fire place. It tookme a full half minute to catch his meaning. *l—l think I’ll leave by the door,”

I stammered. I hoped he was only joking. / < “ What! Don’t you always come and go by way of the chimney?” “Not always.” w “Can it be possible that the story books are mistaken on this important point? It is oruel to rob ufi of our childhood fancies. I think,** and Bob held-the muzzle of his gun close to my ear, “I think, Santa Claus, we’ll cling to the old custom. Oblige us by gliding up the chimney in your own airy fashion.’ I hesitated. Another glance at the muzzle of the gun decided me. I said:

“All right, gents, I’ll not make trouble about a little thing like that.” . c? I drew off my coat George caught it up and t ssed it into the branches of the Christmas tree. I stuck my head into the chimney. It was a tight fit when I came to my shoulders, and I started to draw back. I instantly felt the muzzle of Bob’s gun prodding me. I set my teeth and squirmed my way into that horrible black tunnel.

It was a full hour before I dragged myself out of the top of the chimney and stood on the frosty roof in my stocking feet. I was as black as a cinder and was nearly tired to death. ~ When I had pulled myself together, after a fashion, I slid down the rain spout and limped home. Luckily I met no policeman. If I had the chances were about even that either I would have frightened him to death or that he would have shot me for ?n escaped gorilla. This experience weighed upon my mind so heavily, that I /pformed and gave up burglary. I ana now a respectable highway robber.