Rensselaer Republican, Volume 26, Number 18, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 December 1893 — THREE NEW YEAR'S EVES. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THREE NEW YEAR'S EVES.

T WAS NEW Year’s eve in the great town. Since dawn flakesof snow had fallen straight from the sky over the world. When the shadows of night trailed through the feathery deluge

their draperies swept the storm from the air, leaving a dusky mist of pitiless iciness to brood over the landscape. Then it was that Thor, up in his {rigid kingdom of the north, loos«ned his furies, bidding them make their holiday revel over the universe. Suddenly his invincible winds swept down upon the great town. They plowed up the sodden snow and hurled it in frozen masses and billows of sharp sleet through boulevard and alley. The populace fled from the icy hurricane, shrunk, ana 'disappeared. A little beggar-waif painfully toiled through the icy hurricane. The tempest caught her up and tossed her from one gulf of white snow into another until she was indeed adrift. Everywhere were the merciless white

folds that most soon become her shroud. They dashed against her face, Winded her eyes, tripped her feet, and dragged her into strange corners. She was . urab beyond feeling physical pain when they flung her against the grating which spanned the sight of aglow of opulence. But she could Sfee and she clung to the irou bars, hungrily gazing upon the luxurious scene on the other side of the protected window. It was not the splendid appointments of the room that so cruelly entranced this starveling—it was the, vision ~of- the prepared feast amidst a gliitlering of china, silver, and glass, that made her forget her fright of the tempest. Then she heard the laughter of children, and a sharp longing pierced her heart to look upon the dancing, frolicking little oues who must be in the grand parlor where the play was in progress. She was half way up the snowburdened steps when the entrance ioor opened and closed, and two great-coated, befurred young men stood upon the upper slab expostulating with the weather. “Are vou equal to a walk in the face of this beastly gale?” queried s ringing voice as they descended stair. “Gracious heaven! what have we here? a beggar, a thief! Come, move on, thou abbreviated vagabond; we give noquarter to the tramp of any dimension hereabouts.” Then, as the bundle of rags crouched closer to the icy stone —“Come, since mv gentle persuasion is scorned perhaps ” It is not likely' that the trimly booted foot was thrust forward with harmful intent —but the steps were alipperv with icc—the gentle push was enough to send the scrap of breathing human refuse to the snowcrusted pavement. “Now, that’s too bad! —the poor little creature may be hurt!" said a second voice freighted with compassion and rebuke. Before the second speaker could -reach the ground the “poor little creature -1 ' had gathered itself together and had scrambled to its feet. Sharp sleet was beating against «er scratched, haggard face, the. was tearing the tatters from ier almost fleshless body. She had lost the thiu, woolen shawl, which vbe had pinned over her bead early in the day and the wind was tugging savagely at her streaming hair. But she was not cold—ho —the maddest .fire was leaping through her veins. “I bate you! I wish l could kill you—yes, kill you!,” she shrieked, flinging her claw-like hands toward them. “It’s too bad! The child is hurt,” Insisted the second voice. “Phikwrthrophy and this style of weather don’t hitch,” replied the .first speaker; briskly turning iw,ay .and motioning his companion to sjollqw. Tho child ran in the opposite direction, shrieking her rage as she wqtifc out of.their sight in the swirling drift, of snow. Pedestrians were far between that , Jhnqpus; night. One lunging pyer the &venuP, was. indiscriminately breathing wicked invectives because -“■* fti •’vwfftfth'rt'

from home. He was a man who was singled out by his fellows' as a fit subject for that place much talked about as “perdition." True, he was luridly profane; he looked upon-his own kind with suspicion: he boasted that no bonds of sympathy united him with anybody or- anything. Therefore it was no wonder that he expressed himself in sulphurous terms when he ran afoul some sort of stumbling block during that exasperating journey down the avenue. Industriously cursing, he righted himself, tfcsn-balted. “The Lord Harry! The thing moves it’s alive!” he exclaimed, leaning forward and raising the child from the couch of snow. “Of course! This is another proof that Providence is hunting around toprotect his sparrows,” he sneered. “Where on the face of the earth is your home, youngster?" Although the ragged and battered little starveling was too numb to speak, she clung to him. Her eyes, looking into his, appealed for his pity and protection. “Now, that’s queer! Gosh-all-hem-lock! To think that anything human should stick so like blazes to me!" he mildly commented. Then he added, with a touch of fierceness in his tone, as if he were getting the best of somebody: “Yes, I can afford to make a fool myself! Nobody gives a Christmas present to me. i’ll cajplemyself with one.” He tucked the promiscuous bundle under his arm and went bowling down the avenue. he did not think it, the wicked man, in His name', did a deed that New Year’s eve that had been scorned by presumably better men and women all day. * * * * * * Again it was New Year’s eve in the great town. --- The Blaisdell mansion was illuminated from foundation to Cornice. For hours the elegant equipages of fashionable folk came with a swing to the curbing, and men and women, who were accounted as the “best" alighted, and walking over the tapestry covering the iciness, went in to participate in the revel. For long people- had talked with each other about the wonderful change in old Joseph Blaisdell. As his hair grew whiter he became gentler. True, his mouth was not less firm, but it had lost its defiance; his eyes retained their sharp luster, but they had not kept their scorn. Not so long ago society had been astonished when old Joseph Blaisdell had introduced his adopted daughter to society. Then they said to each other that a woman was at the bottom of the marvelous transformation. Perhaps old Joseph Blaisdell had never been prouder than when he saw his beautiful daughter receiving the homage of the influential throng at her New Year’s reception. To Ralph Courtney, the leading scion of wealth, she had never appeared so entrancingly beautiful, although he had for months adored her

as the perfect type of womanly loveliness. He had been surfeited with luxury before she had crossed the thrashold of womanhood. But he had come to desire old Joseph Blaisdell’s greatest treasure. Not for a moment did he doubt that he would, when he asked for it, win this rare jewel for his own. Claude Wolcott, the renowned artist, felt a bitter regret when he saw his friend lead their fair hostess through the perfumed air towI ard a quiet nook where adoration | might be softly whispered. “To him who hath shall be given,” jhe rebelliously murmured, “and I from the fellow who hath nothing I even that delusion called ‘hope’ j shall be taken. ’ The smart set patronized Claude Wolcott, for the scion of wealth had made the artist quite the fashion. But the mothers who were ; prospecting in the interest of their daughters did not include him in their plans. He had not the desirable bank account. In the conservatory, among the rarest exotics and flowers, the scion of wealth told the old story of love. His fair hostess listened, her brown eyes filling with a tender light, the color deepening upon her cheek. Suddenly a cry of sharp distress penetrated that, floral elvsium. “It is a little child—out in the street—and on New Year’s eve!” she exclaimed, darting away from him toward an entrance that led into the icy weather. Next moment he was at her side. “Oh. do not go, my love! —what are all the small vagabonds on earth that you should expose ydhrself to ones breath of chiller on their account!" he^expo^tulated. Over the face df *Berenice J^lais?

fright. She shuddered away from him, saying: “Even when I,was happiest there was an undefined fear in my every thought of vou —no, it can never be!" When he had heard the story he knew she had spoken the truth. “Berenice, you then said that you would like to kill me, it is worse,” he answered, for the first time in bis life feeling bereft and punished. * * * # * * When the hostess crossed the hall ‘returning to her guests, she met the artist who knew mote of disappointment than he did of pleasure. “You are not well—that’s too bad!" he said. Her lips parted in low cry of gladness; the color returning to her cheek. “The same tone and the same words! God bless you as I have been doing through many years!" she said, holding both hands toward him. * # * * • • Another New Year’s eve in the great town. Again was there a great merrymaking in the Blaisdell mansion. “A priceless gift, and I deserve nothing!” murmured Claud© Wolcott fondly gazing upon his bride. “Not so,” she reprovingly answerd,and added: “We may not know when or in what manner our small mercies to the desolate will return to us. You gave a few kind words — and so you receive me!” And old Joseph Blaisdell was the happiest man at the wedding, barring the groom.

H. EFEA WEBSTER.