Rensselaer Republican, Volume 26, Number 17, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 December 1893 — CHRISTMAS ON A PRAIRIE. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

CHRISTMAS ON A PRAIRIE.

Winter in western Kansas. A vast expanse of level landscape, •dotted here and there by the leafless tree Lops of some scant grove or outiline of a far-off habitation, stretched •away until it seemed that hours or •days of patient wagon travel brought *o change of scene and made no progress toward the always receding horizon. A misty upper atmosphere •dulling the sun until its rays fell ghostlike, without warmth or brightness. The never-ceasing northwest wind, soughing in midair as if weary •of forever moving over interminable distance. The light fall of snow that half-whitened the brown and withered herbage gave evidence by the absence of hoof steps and wheelmarks that travelers were few and far between along the undulating road that alone spanned and measured the boundless prairie. And over all a silence as unbroken as the solitude of midocean. Along the road a moving speck from the west crept steadily toward a point near the eastern horizon where a cluster of roofs and smoking chimneys revealed the presence of the promising town of A , which had reached the mature age of five years when the lengthening shadows of the short December day confirmed the calendar record that Christmas eve of 188- was hovering over the land to hide the rapid approach from the mysterious regions of the north •of the reindeer sleigh loaded with eouutless gifts and driven by that great patron saint of childhood, the •renowned and generous Santa Claus. ““No Christmas for us, Helen!” and aliand browned in sun and wind rested pityingly with a half-furtive caress upon the shoulder of a woman whose blue eyes and mobile features looked out with pathetic sadness foreign t.» her years from the canvas cover of the wagon upon whose seat her husband and herself had preserved an unwonted silence during that long day’s ride. “No, Robert, nor for the children. And how differently we had planned for this Christmas eve!” and a tear : dimmed glance caught her husband's face as if seeking some ray of encouragement where she knew love : reigned even among the set lines of j grim endurance that were becoming ; permanently indexed there. “Maybe,” said a childish voice from among the warm blankets be- ; hind the seat. “Santa Claus is com- ! ing to that town over there and he will frow us sumpin’ out o’ his sleigh as he goes by." The mother gave a little shiver and made no reply. The husband, in a low tone, said: “No, little woman; no Christmas (fot* you or for the children this time. ] "The prairie fire that swept away in •one short hour the work of five hard , years in making us a home was our present this year —from the overruling hand of an all-wise Provi•dence, the traveling elder called it, didn’t he? Christmas is for people who have houses and homes and comfort; not for campers along the road. But let us only manage to get back the old lowa farm that I can rent and we’ll try to forget the Christmas we didn’t have out in this country! And” he added in a kinder tone, “you Icnow you have said yourself we’ve seen worse nights than this and worse days than to-morrow is likely ■to be " l

‘‘lf f could only forget that terri>ble night, Robert, but it comes to me in my dreams! I see the roaring dine of flame and smoko rushing like ten thousand demons over the prairie. 1 see it reach the claim. I hear Harry crying to get to tjhedugout, where you had hurried us and the few things we could save. I see you dash 'back into the burning house, but I cannot see you as I did that night rushing back again, holding our boy Ihigh up above the flames that darted at you like red-hot, hissing snakes. My dream leaves you with that awful surge of fire between us, and I gasp with the horror of it until you wake me to finc( we are still together. Waking, I know you are safe, and getting over those frightful burns. Jff I could only forget that night I -might feel like myself again. Oh! 'if this Christmas eve or Christmas -day would only take away that horrible dream it would be Christmas enough for me!” Merrily *>ealed the new church ’bell by tbc grove in which the prairie voyagers -had halted for the ■night. Every window and the open

doors sending rays of cheerful light into the surrounding gloom served ,to guide a gathering throng of young and old to the Sunday-school celebration of Christmas eve. Watching with longing eyes the unwonted Spectacle, two children crept hand-in-hand toward the church, and as the music of a Christmas anthem floated out into the night it drew them irrfesistibly to see for themselves the wonders that were within. Two wistful, childish faces, peering with wide-eyed astonishment at the wonderfully lighted tree, bearing such strange variety of fruit, caught the attention of kind-hearted observers. A story soon went around: “Camping children —parents lost most everything in the great Ford county prairie fire —traveling overland back to lowa —no Christmas for them— Santa Claus only went to houses that had chimneys to go down.” A sudden wave of sympathy swept over the room. Here were unexpected visitors from the great expanse, little ones who expected no Santa Claus, whose parents could give them no Christmas. In His name welcome and send them on their way rejoicing. Hurried consultation were heard. A young voice said: “Gibe them my present.” “Give them mine,” “And mind,” followed, until it seemed that giving was indeed more blessed than receiving, Presents showered from the wdiiderful tree. The choir broke out in another anthem of praise, and the parents beginning to feel alarmed at the unexpected length of absence, met their children coming from the church with a boy lugging a basket of srifts for them and bringing the message direct from Santa Claus /himself. whom the children had seen in white fur and a long white beard. “Merry Christmas to the family In the prairie schooner!” Christmas day! The interminable stretch of earth and sky, of halfwhite herbage, of road without beginning or cuding, of the tireless Wind, of distance everywhere. On the western horizon the faded housetops of a recediug town. Again the canvas coVerOd craft cffilfpfirg toward the eastern horizon. Behind the seat the happy chatter of childish voices over undreamed of treasures. In front, jsnuggled together like a pair of lovers beginning their first journey, the husband and wife smiled encouragement to each other and the passing wind caught the sweet voiced words: “Robert, I missed my dream last, night. The good Santa Claus who sent the children back with so many beautiful presents took away the horror of the prairie fire so that I feel its spell is broken. How kind the people were to strangers they never saw before. Oh, Robert, this is Christmas day for us after all! “Helen, there is more in Christmas than I ever knew. It nuts hearts in the people, Helen, that’s what it does, and keeps the world together. I don’t feel now that we arc cut off by ourselves out on this great prairie. Christmas is for everybody, and I say merry Christmas to you and to the children, and to the people of that town behind us. Merry Christmas with all my heart, to everybody everywhere!” Again the prairie sehoone? dwindled to a speck upon the mighty landscape. But to the mother’s listening senses the faint echo of a church bell seemed to accompany them all day, lulling her to a peaceful sleep as the shades of Christmas night contracted the horizon to the faint radius of their little camp fire, and all the illimitable expanse of day became as a curtain drawn close about by unseen hands that no sight or sound might mar the perfect restfulness of that Christmas night.