Rensselaer Union, Volume 9, Number 14, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 December 1876 — A CHRISTMAS COMEDY. [ARTICLE]

A CHRISTMAS COMEDY.

“ The best laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang art a-gley.” ’TWas on a Christmas that all this trouble happened, and Cora’s happiness destroyed for almost a whole year, though it seems rather incredible that such a trifling matter could almost break five hearts; but so it was. Everybody blamed everybody else, and finally took the blame upon himself. Cora’s eighteenth birthday came on the 23d day pf December, 1874, and that day she was made happy by a gift from her father of-a beautifulseal-skin suit, sacque, muff, boa and cap. Nothing could exceed her delight, and she danced about the house, followed by her little brother Louie, who, not content with exclamations of admiration, must feel the soft fur with his small sticky hands, much to Cora’s discomfort. “You had better take your cloak oft, if you don’t want it worn out before spring." said Maggie, a friend who had come to spend the holidays with Cora. “Nodanger, Maggie, it seems pretty tough; but I’d better be at work or I won’t have that scarf finished.” So Cora removed her finely, and as she put it carefully away she said • “ There’s my old sealskin muff, i believe I’ll send that to cousin Ella for .a Christmas present—eh, Maggie?” “Just the thing, if she is fond of castoff clothing,” laughed Maggie. “Indeed she is. You see Uncle John can’t afford to give her many things, 40 I give her everything I’m tired of or can’t wear, and she makes them all overhand is glad to get them. It won’t take me many minutes to finish this scarf, then I’ll write a note to Bowen and tell him to Sut new tassels on the muff and send it irect from there to cousin Ella.” This scarf that Cora was making was intended as a Christmas giftfor Mr. Julius Brown, a gentleman who was very devoted to Cora and stood high in her favor. She had accepted from him an invitation to a party, to be held the night before Christmas.

Residing in this village was a Mr. James Browne, or Jim Browne, as he was usually called. To this gentleman Cora had taken a great dislike; though Mr. Browne tried all in his power to make himself intensely agreeable, he only succeeded in making himself most unconscionably disagreeable to Cora. “’Tis finished!” cried Cora, holding up the scarf for Maggie to see. “ Isn't it lovely?” “ Yes, it is a miracle of beauty and good taste. Suppose you lend it to Fred, he has invited me to lake a sleigh-ride this afternoon,” said Maggie, laughing. “No indeed, I’ll not lend it to brother Fred, it’s too precious for that! This scarf shall never be worn by anybody but Mr. Julius Brown,” replied Cora. “it must he time for me to be dressing,” said Maggie, slowly taking the hairpins out of her long brown hair. “ Yes, if you are going with brother Fred, for if there’s anything he hates, it is to be kept waiting. You see I’ll keep you posted about Fred’s little failings,” she added. “ Do," said Maggie, laughing, “I would like to know all the idiosyncrasies of his nature.” “They are legion; but on the whole, brother Fred is a pretty good fellow, don’t youthink so, Maggie?'” Maggie only laughed, and her fair face colored slightly. “ Now 1 must write a note to Mr. Brown, and send him the scarf, and a note to Bowen about the muff," and Cora sat down to her desk and wrote a very pretty note to Mr. Brown, asking him to accept the scarf as a Christmas gift from her. “ Cora, there's ladies down-stairs; they want you to go and help fix the presents on the Christmas tree; they are in a dreadful hurry.” said Louie, presenting herself at the-aoor. The festival for the children of the church that Cora attended Was to be held Christmas night, and Cora was called upon to assist in selecting and arranging the gifts. ■ ? -; “O, what a bother!” she exclaimed. “I haven’t written to Bowen about the muff, or addressed this note or package to Mr. Brown. Maggie, won’t you do it for me ? That’s a dear girl.” “ Yea, run along. I’ll attend to it,” said Maggie. “Remember the address,” said Cora. “ For there’s another Mr. Brown here, and he has the same initials, only his name has a final e. Mr. J. C. B-r-o-w-n-e,” said Cora, spelling it over. ‘‘ I don’t see why he couldn’t as well have been named Smith. It’s so provoking.” “Quite heartrending,” laughed Maggie- . “And don’t forget to write that note to

the furrier. I won’t have time to stop there to-day.” “Yea, yes, I’ll remember everything. Go on, they are calling you now." Cora ran down stairs to Join the ladies, and left Maggie still busily arranging her hair. When she had dressed herself she said, “ Let me see. what was it Cora said about the address—to be sure and put a final s.’i Maggie paused to think, with her pen suspended over the envelope. The truth is, Maggie was thinking so much of the aleigh-ride in prospect, that she had forgotten altogether, or rather had not paid any attention to what Cora Irad told her. After hesitating a few moments, she wrote upon the envelope and Kn the package, “Mr. J C. Browne.” n taking a sheet of paper, she began a note to the furrier, when unfortunately at that moment, in rushed Louie, shouting: “ Here’s brother Fred, with the sleigh.” “ Yes, I’ll be ready in half a second,” replied Maggie. “What is the furrier’s name, Louie, is it Bowen?” “Yes,” answered Louie, repeating the name, but he pronounced it Bouin. “O, Brown! Yes that’s it. Cora said to be careful about that name. This is Brown without the e.” So Maggie began the note: “Mr. Brown: Take this." Louie, who was standing at the window, cried out: “Hurry up, Miss Maggie!” “Is Fred getting impatient?” said Maggie, running to the window, and looking down at the occupant of the sleigh. “ You’d better hurry up! You’d better hurry up!” sang out Louie. Maggie ran back to her desk, and with Louie’s words ringing in her ears, she wrote “you—” , “The horses is a dancing,” cried Louie, again. Maggie in her haste wrote “old muff—” and then exclaimed: “ Louie, you’re enough to drive one crazy! I’ll finish this when I come back,” and thrusting the unfinished note into the box, she put on her wrappings, and as she was about to leave the room she said; “Louie, I promised Cora to send this note and package away; won’t you see that they are sent all right? Be sure you have it sent to the right person; you know there are two Mr. Browns.” “ I’ll ’tend to it,” replied Louie. And away rushed Maggie, down-stairs and out at the door, apologizing to Fred for keeping him waiting so long. No sooner had they started on their way than Louie, thinking himself very important, resolved at once to deliver the note and package himself. “ Mr. J. C. Brown®,” he read aloud. “ Miss Maggie said there were two Mr. Browns. I don’t see anything else to take." He glanced all around, but saw nothing that looked as if it was to be sent away, and then he peered into the muff box, and saw the note beginning “ Mr. Brown.” “ Here it is,” he said, and taking up note, package and box, he sallied out. To Mr. James Browne he carried the note and scarf. To Mr. Julius Brown the muff box. Mr. James Browne was both surprised and delighted on reading the note and opening the package that he had received ; in vain had he sought the smiles of Miss Cora, and now all at once she had sent him this beautiful present. He put the scarf around his long neck, and indulged in many broad grins of delight. Louie did not find Mr. Brown at his office. The boy in attendance stated that Mr. Brown had received a telegram, and instantly gone out. Louie left the box, with instructions that it should be given to him as soon as he returned. The telegram Mr. Brown had received was a call to the bedside of his father, who was dangerously ill. He made immediate arrangements to leave town that evening, and hastened to tell Cora that he would be unable to attend the party the next evening. Cora, the servant informed him, was not at home; so he left word with Bridget, charging her to tell Miss Cora as soon as return of his inability to escort her to the party the following eve. Now Bridget was a blundering girl, and no sooner had she closed the door on Mr. Brown’s receding footsteps than at that instant a smell of burning cake greeted her nostrils; she rushed to the kitchen to find her jelly cake pretty well scorched, and this disaster caused Mr. Brown’s message to vanish from her mind.' When Mr. Brown returned to his office, the muff-box was straightway presented to him. On opening the box, and examining the contents, he was somewhat puzzled to know what it meant; but when he read, upon the slip of paper; "Mr. Brown, take thia, you old muff," he was completely non-plussed. “ Who brought this box ?” he demanded of the boy. “ Louie Irving, sir; he said it was sent by his sister.” Mr. Brown scrutinized the box again; on the inside of the lid he saw written in a fine hand, “ Cora Irving." “ I should think it was a mistake,” he said to himself, “ but this note is certainly addressed to me,” and he read again, “ Mr. Brown, take thia, you old muff." Then he remembered of a philopena that Cora owed him; perhaps she had sent this for a joke, but he could not see anything remarkably funny in it; or perhaps she was tired of his attentions, and by sending him this muff and note, he was to understand she considered him an "old muff," and wished the acquaintance to cease; but it did not seem like Cora could do anything so rude; “ but we are often deceived in people,” he argued to himself. . _ He put the muff back in the box, thrust the note into his pocket; there was no more use to puzzle about it. Mr. Brown was a sensitive man, and rather jealous in his disposition, consequently it was his way to jump at conclusions without waiting to inquire into any matter. When Cora came home that afternoon, she found Maggie had already returned from her drive. •‘Did you dispatch everything all right, Maggie?” was her first inquiry. “ They are safely at their destination, I presume,” replied Maggie. “Louie promised they should be attended to at once.” Maggie, alas! had forgotten all about the muff’. “ Pro awful hungry for pop oom tonight,” ejaculated Louie; “s’pose we have some.” “ Very well, bring the com, and we’ll have some,” replied Fred. “ Cora can pop the best—you always bum it,” said Douie. “ Miss Maggie and I will shell the com, Cora will pop it, and you, I suppose, will eat it,” observed Frea. Cora was soon down on her knees before the crimson coals, vigorously shaking the com popper in her little white hand; her fair fluffy hair shone brightly in the reflected glow of the embers. Maggie and Fred were busily employed, keeping Cora supplied with an abundance of com, while Louie shouted and

capered about, as each brown kernel bursted into a beautiful white shell. Mr. Brown took a roundabout way to the train that evening; and as he slowly passed the house, he paused, and looked in at the merry group (for the curtains had not yet been drawn), a preltv picture he thought as his eye rested on Cora; he had half a mind to go in and express his regret at being so suddenly called away, and not seeing Cora that afternoon, but that muff popped into his mind, and he thought as he looked at Cora, that she did not seem to be at all .disturbed at the news of his absence; and with a sigh he went on his way. , The next day Maggie and Cora were busy at work over ~such little finery as girls love to adorn themselves with. The daylight hours flitted swiftly by, the moon arose and cast her mellow light over the snow, as jf to beautify and light the way to the approaching scene of festivity and pleasure. Cora was dressed in her most becoming attire, and waited for Mr. Brown’s coming. Maggie and Fred had already gone, and Cora began to get impatient, and now and then pushed aside the curtains and looked up and down the street, wondering at Mr. Brown’s long delay. Still the evening wore on, but Cora’s escort failed to appear. “Mamma,” she said, “is not this very strange ? If Mr. Brown could not come for me he surely would have sent me word.” “Hewill not come at this late hour. You may as well take off your dress, my dear,” said her mother. Cora removed her dainty robes, and took the clinging smilax from her hair, lingering long before the glass, the while, there was so much bewildering loveliness reflected there, while tear-drops glistened on her cheeks, and little sobs were in her throat. Mamma tried to be as comforting as possible, but ’twas of no use, for Cora was bitterly disappointed at Mr. Brown’s neglect. “Where have you been all the evening?” exclaimed Maggie as soon as she returned. “ Right in this room,” replied Cora. “ Mr. Brown never came for me, and here I have been waiting the entire evening.” Maggie and Fred were both surprised at Mr. Brown’s uncourteousness. Maggie endeavored to enliven Cora, by giving a glowing description of the party, but Cora would not be pleased with anything she could say, ana retired in a silent ana unamiable mood. The following evening, Maggie, Cora and Fred went to the children’s festival and Christmas tree. Cora was very distrait all the first part of the evening, wondering if Mr. Brown would be there, and what he would say for his non-appear-ance the night before. At last she tried to rouse herself and join in the merriment around her this Christmas night, but it was of no use. Young Simpkins tried to make himself agreeable. In vain; it was not appreciated. She looked at the hundreds of tiny, glimmering wax candles, at the long, looping strings of the white pop corn, that covered the Christmas tree, yet this did not serve to distract her attention from the door, where her eyes would wander in spite of herself. Maggie, who was selling boquets, passing, all radiant with smiles, paused an instant to rally her on her solemnity. ’Twas all to no purpose. Cora could not be gay. Mr. Brown did not appear that evening, and Cora went home and cried herself to sleep. I must go back a little in my story to a person I have somewhat neglected. Mr. Jim Browne, the next day after he had received the scarf, started on his way to thank Cora for her gift. When he had almost reached the house, he stepped on a treacherous piece of ice, and fell prone upon the sidewalk. He tried to arise and look dignified, but his right foot twinged with dreadful pain, ana he sat down and groaned. “Confound it!" be exclaimnd, “I believe I’ve sprained my foot!” He essayed to arise again, and stood upon his feet, but could scarcely walk. Just then a dray came by, Mr. Browne hailed the driver and was soon helped on to this rough cart, and driven home pretty well bumped and jostled around, and in anything but a joyful humor. His call was postponed indefinitely. At the close of the holidays, Maggie went home, but ere she had taken her deEarture, Fred had been made happy by er promise to become his wife at some future day. After Maggie’s departure, Cora grew, as Louie termed it, “ Jes’ as solemn as an old crow.” She scarcely smiled, and every time she heard the doorbell, she would brighten up for a few momenta, as if expecting some dear friend, only to be disappointed, for it always proved to be some one she did not care to see.

One evening, Louie darted into the room, and announced that Mr. Browne wanted to see Cora. Cora thinking only of one Mr. Brown, entered the parlor with quite a beating heart ; to her dismay, there sat Mr. Browne. He arose and limped forward to greet her with his lank outstretched hand; he at once began a profusion of thanks for a superb gift, intermixed with apologies for his long delay in expressing his thanks, while all the time he waved in his other hand the identical scarf that Cora had spent so much time over. When he haa finished his oration, he sat down, spreading the scarf on his knee and stroked it lovingly. Poor Cora did not know what to say, and stammered out: “ I think there is some mistake. I never sent you that scarf.” “Ah!” exclaimed Mr. Browne, opening his eyes very wide. “There is certainly a mistake,” repeated Cora. “I don’t understand,” said Mr. Browne, “I received this scarf and a note from you, asking me to accept it,” and. he closed his hand over the scarf, as if he expected some one to take it from him. “ I intended that scarf should be sent to Mr. Julius Brown,” said Cora, desperately. Mr. Browne’s face grew rather rosy. “I can’t understand,” he muttered, “if the scarf was intended for another, why it should be sent to me.” “ It was sent to you by mistake,” cried Cora, sharply. “Possibly! Possibly!” ejaculated Mr. Browne, btill he sat and held the scajf, and there was a silence for a few momenta.'’ Mr. Browne seemed to be lost in thought; at last he said, “ I will leave the scarf; I have no wish to wear what belongs to or was intended as a gift for a more favored one. But I must protect my throat before I go; my throat was always tender,” and he coughed pathetically, while he took from his pocket a large handkerchief, wound it carefully around his throat, and tied it in a hard knot. Cora could hardly help smiling, he looked so ridiculous as he hobbled to the door, and mournfully bowed himself out. “ This is absurd,” said Cora, taking up the unfortunate scarf.

When Cora related to her mother and Fred the fate of the scarf, they advised her to go the next day to her cousin's And see if the muff had been more fortunate in reaching its destination. To her dismay, she was informed that.no muff had been seen by any member of the family. She then repaired to Bowen’s, and found that the muff had not been sent there. “ Maggie has made a grand mistake,” she said, when she went home, “ though I don’t see how she could, for I cautioned her several times. I can’t imagine where the muff could have gone to. I ought to have known better than to trust such a careless person as Maggie with anything of the kind,” she added, for she had begun to feel pretty hard toward Maggie. This exasperated Fred considerably. “ What object could Maggie have for so doing?” he demanded. “ Well, I don’t know myself,” replied Cora, “ what motive she could have.” “You had beiter wylte to Margie and ask her something about it, ana not accuse her of such a wrong until you have some proof that a wrong was intended.” Cora wrote, and soon after received the following reply: “ Dear Friend Cora: I can’t imagine how the mistake you speak of could have happened; not through my carelessness, I hope. But I remember now, though it had escaped my mind until I received your letter, that I left the note about the muff unfinished in the bos; but I can’t understand how that would prevent the furrier from receiving the muff. If he did not understand the note, he would surely have kept the muff until called for. I don’t think I addressed the notes wrong. lam sorry to have caused you any annoyance.” “I’m as wise now as I was before I read this letter,” said Cora. “That’s just the way with Maggie. She overlooks the most important part of anything; she writes about the muff, and never mentions the scarf, and that’s the worst. I’d rather lose a dozen muffs than to have had this scarf around Jim Browne’s ugly neck.” So Cora went on, from day to day, magnifying the evil to such an extent, that Fred became affected by it, and his letters to Maggie grew beautifully less, and finally ceased altogether. Maggie did not know what to think, and worried and wondered, and grew thin over this unexplained silence. Her mother decided to take her to the seaside the following summer, to see if a change of scene and new faces would make her forget her faithless lover. One morning Maggie was sitting in her favorite nook among the rocks, where she often went to read her favorite authors. She had started with a volume of Tennyson, that Cora had given her. After looking at the view stretched out so majestically before her, she put out her hand for the book, which she thought she had laid on the ground by her side, but it was not there. Maggie rose to go in search of it, when at that moment a little breeze sprang up, and a slip of paper came flying toward her ana lit at her feet. She stooped and picked it up. Her eyes were riveted to the paper, for on it were these words: “Mr Brown: Take this, you old muff.” A flash of bewildered recollection came over her. She recognized her own handwriting. “ Where in the world did this come from?” she exclaimed; and, looking up, she encountered the gaze of a gentleman who stood before her with a book extended in his hand. “My book!” exclaimed Maggie, “ thank you; I was just going in search of it.” “ I am glad to save you the trouble,” said the gentleman; and it has been quite a pleasure to find it, for I see written on the fly-leaf the name of an old friend of mine, Miss Cora Irving.” “Are you acquainted with Miss Irving ?’ ’ asked Maggie; ‘ ‘ then this book might serve as an introduction. I believe my name is also written on the page.” “Miss Gaylord? Ah! I have often heard Miss Irving speak of you as her dearest friend. And it is possible vou may have heard my name mentioned by ‘our mutual friend,’ if 1 may so express myself—Julius Brown,” and he gallantly raised his hat “Yes, indeed,” said Maggie cordially. And she really felt delighted to see Mr. Brown, for with this slip of paper in her hand, she fancied that she had found a little clue to the mystery which had for the whole summer perplexed her, and which Mr. Julius Brown might be able to explain. 8o she politely invited him to be seated by her side. A long conversation ensued, during which Maggie fully comprehended her vast blunders in sending notes, muffs and scarfs about in so reckless a manner. They separated, each with a laugh at their own folly, ana the next day, Mr. Julius Brown took the train for , and the home of Cora Irving. Then the great mystery of the muff, the scarf, and of Mr. Brown’s non-appearance on acertain evening—all —all stood revealed. Consequently Fred started immediately on the train. But he went in the direction of that particular spot by the seaside, where Miss Gaylord was located. Therefore joy and tranquility are restored to our once more harmonious quartette, and cards are now out for a double wedding.— Prairie Farmer.