isgfgpP
II y Hilda Richmond.
The weather certainly was queer for
the last day of December. The sun
shone brightly down on leafless trees
and brown fields, and a fresh warm
breeze blew from the south making it
like a day in late September. 'I he
wide expanse of meadows and wheat
fields stretching away back of the
dozen farm-houses that composed the
tiny village seemed to be basking in
the mellow, hazy sunlight that covered
the whole landscape as with a garment.
With a sigh Miss Julia Hunt hung the
yellow almanac behind the shining
stove in the kitchen, where yellow al
manacs- had hung for more than fifty
years, and then went to the dining
room to pack away her precious china
and ornaments.
"There's one thing," she said to
Mary Finnegan, the maid of all work,
"those boys are not going into the
parlor. I'll lock the door to-night and
not open it till they are gone. I'm
not going to have my mother's furni
ture scratched and spoiled by a lot of
city boys. It was very foolish of me
to promise Louise that I would enter
tain part of her mission class of news
boys and bootblacks, but she begged
so hard that 1 couldn't help it. She
6ays one day in the country is like a
glimpse of Heaven tothose half starved
little creatures, but I'm afraid it will
not be like a glimpse of Heaven for us.
1 had planned to have Mike take them
for a long sleighride in the bob sled,
but here the weather must turn as
warm as May and spoil my plans. If
we get through the morning, we shall
be all right, for I have tickets for the
entertainment at the school-house in
——— ~
v , 'V■ 1
V M 112, -U<
afi^^SiaSi=i=aaa=ifc--1-ajji=ii=aßMß^^^^
"Hully Gee I Aint That a B
the afternoon, and they return on the
six o'clock train. Louise said all that
was necessary was to feed them well,
and I would have no trouble."
"Maybe it will snow yet," said Mary,
examining the little house out of which
an old man was said to appear in case
a storm was brewing. But the smil
ing little old lady was on guard, and
thut is a sure sign of fair weather.
'•No such lnck," exclaimed the mis
tress. "The almanac says 'fair and
warmer' for to-morrow. Do you
think you will have time to hunt up
the checker board and dominoes in the
at He. Mary?"
"Sure an' I'll do that as soon as the
bird is stuffed."
If I thought they wouldn't break it,
I'd run over to Mrs. Brown's and bor
row the boys' magic lantern. I could
darken the sitting-room and show off
the pictures, but perhaps I'd better not
risk it. llow many ginger cookies did
you bake this morning?"
"Four dozen," replied Mary prompt
ly.
"T.et me see. Ten boys are coining.
That will be plenty for each to have
three or four for lunch. Louise laid
such stress on having plenty to eat
that 1 am glad you baked too many
rather than not enough. You need
not make the tarts if we have mince
and pumpkin pie."
"How do you do?" said a brisk voice
at the open door. I just stopped to
tell you that the entertainment fori
to-morrow is all oil". Two of the Gray
children are down with the measles,
o>i<) as they had the leading parts,
it ean r given. lam around refund
ing money to the people who bought
tickers; "
"Troubles ae>er come singly," ob
served Miss .lulia a- she > xchanged
e'evi u bii '.( pa? ii in. anl for a hand
ful of tin*!! coin . Mar v I'll be back
in half ar. hour. I'm ffoing to the
store for some candy, and on the wa\
back I'll stop for il «• magic lantern
This house will look as if a whirlwind
liitd truck it by to II 'i row but
It can't In helped, I suppose I'll have
more sense next time,"* she adden
geiiiiK
\ 'lie i run stopped at the lit tie sta
tion the ne.\i morning, ten In• \ rang
IN J.' F ruin ten TO TTFTEI II years, wire IM L
Ii) Mis# • ilia and e-i oited home much
as if sht were in charge of so many
Indiaim They were armed with Italic
• lid bats, and before they were half
wuy tu the home, one of them pmuieu
to Miss YYunt's big pasture field, and
said, "llullv gee! Ain't that a bully
place for a game?"
Miss Hunt was shocked at the lati
guape, but hope rose in her heart. It
might lie possible that the exquisite,
cloudless weather favored her after
all. She looked at the thin elotliing
of her guests, and rejoiced that the
vellow almanac had truly predicted
"fair and warmer" for this New Year's
day.
"I say, missus, is they any jboys
'round here? Lame Jimmy, he can't play
an' we'd like to strike jtoine kids fer a
match game," said one of the boys
eagerly.
"Certainly, there ar. .>ovs in the
village. If you go out and start a game,
I guess it won't be long till they will
ali be with you," said Miss Hunt, who
had very little acquaintance with boys,
but had noticed that they w ere not long
in finding out if anything new was go
ing on.
Hcfore the location of the bases had
been settled, three recruits joined tTie
ranks and were soon offering to hunt
1111 enough more for the match game.
"Dear me, Mary," lamented M? ts
Hunt, as a new difficulty stared her
in the face, "I was just going to run out
with the cookies and some apples for
the boys, but there are ten or twelve
extra ones playing with them. They
must be hungry after their long ride
this morning, but what can 1 do?"
"Sure an' I'd run to Mrs. Brown's
and get the batch she made yisterday.
Her Moliie said their company couldn't
come to-day."
"The very thing!" And with a load
off her mind Miss Julia hastened acros.-,
the street.
"Sell them! I guess not. MyJoeand
Xed are screaming out there as loud
as the rest. You may have them all.
and these pies, too, for Sister Jane
can't come to-day. I'll help you carry
them to the pasture field," said Mrs.
Brown.
"Ten minutes for refreshments,"
yelled Lame Jimmie, who had by com
mon consent been chosen umpire,
ully Place for a Game? 11
since, as a shrewd newsboy remarked,
"No feller'd hit a cripple even if liis
decisions was foul."
In less than half the time Jiminie
had alloted, the cookies and apples
disappeared, and the game was again
in progress. On the way out Miss
Hunt had said: "We'll let them eat all
they want, and then put the baskets
by the fence where they can help them
selves whenever they get hungry."
Mrs. Brown, who was the mother of
four healthy boys, said nothing to this,
but thought her friend would have her
eyes opened as to boys' appetites be
fore night.
"For pity's sake," saiil Miss Hunt,
looking at the empty baskets. "I
nevcv saw the like. I must go right in
and tell Mike to kill some young
chickens. My turkey and the mast
beef will never be enough at this rate.
I'm sorry I declined your pies, Mrs.
Brown."
"I'll n>i right home and bring them."
said Mrs. Brown. "I have some fresh
cake tliat I can spare, too. My Mollie
can look after our dinner if you need
any help. Perhaps I can do something
for you."
"Indeed you can," said Miss Julia fer
vently. "It's only nine o'clock, but I
shall begin peeling potatoes at once.
No wonder Louise said over and over
again to 'prepare ph nty of food.' "
"I saw you going out with a lunch
for the boys," said .Mrs. Hace, coming
to inei t t hem wit h a large basket. "I
suppi, e my three are out there, so it
is only fair that I should help. lio
you think they will like these?" and
she iliplaycd a lot of warm, sugary
crullers.
"I. Iki them!" laughed Mrs. Brown.
"They ate every tliinsr we had In live
in iII lit •>. Don't taki tine out now.
Wait till we have a chance to take
something. It is always well to have
a reserve.
"Yi . indeed," said Miss Hunt. "If
you can come in and make up about
a bushel of cookii I shall be indebted
to you forever, Mrs. Knee, | thought
I had enough dinner for twenty limn,
but I am afraid not now."
All three women were so busy pre
pariui; dinner that an hour slipped
past before unyone thought of the
baseball players, Kven then It j
doubtful if they would have been re
membereil if tin* whole troop had not
come to the house ostensibly to (/el a
drink, but really to sen if taoie cuokiti
wI. u ii.ii --1 In fm thi'uiiiii.g 51.,. Hum
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1902.
was overcome with remorse to think
she had neglected her guests, and sev
eral pies soon followed the crullers as
astonement for her sin of omission.
"Now, boys," she said as the proces
sion started, each boy with a huge
pumpkin pie triangle in one hand and
a rosy apple in the other, "dinner will
be ready in an hour or t wo and we want
you to have good appetites."
"We'll be there," sang out the cap
tain. briefly, leading the way back to
t he field.
"I am sorry all the boys can't stay to
dinner," said Miss Hunt. "Doyou sup
pose there, would be enough for all?"
"I am afraid not," said Mrs. Knee,
surveying the contents of pots, kettles
and pans. I am sorry, too, for they
are ha ving such a good time together."
"I'll run down and see if Mrs. Lake
has anything to spare. Perhaps we
can arrange for all to stay," said Mrs
Brown. "Now don't object, Julia.
There are six little Lakes tint in your
pasture field and their mother will be
delighted to help."
"Of course she will," snid Mrs. Lake
at the door. "Nellie told me what is
going on down here, and I came right
away to offer my services, for of course
my boys are out there with the rest.
I'll be back in a few minutes with my
cont ribut ion."
"The dinin'-room only holds twelve,"
announced Mary Finnegan, red-faced
from a struggle with the table.
"Let's set one table in the sitting
room," said Julia, forgetting that she
had intended to lock up her parlor and
sit t ing-room.
When dinner was finally ready, not a
hoy was in the pasture field. The bats
were thrown aside, the catcher's mask
dangled from the fence, and the barn
roof reserved'seats for spectators were
empty. Far away faint shouts an
nounced that a lively chase was going
011. Miss Hunt was in despair but not
so the mothers.
"They have seen a rabbit or a squir
rel," said Mrs. Lake, calmly, as she
rang the big old dinner bell that had
been silent for twenty years. "My
dear Julia, if you had ever lived in the
same house with six youngsters, you
would be surprised at nothing. 1 see
Mrs. Hrown filling a tub with warm
water. She knows what condition
their hands and faces will be in."
The squirrel hunt was abandoned at
the first sound of the bell, and across
the fields streamed the visitors and
besides all the well boys that the vil
lage boasted. Nearly every one of the
dozen houses in the group was repre
sented in the motley crowd of dirty
urchins. Under the direction of Mrs.
Brown, the whole party was soon
scented with soup and scrubbed to
that lady's satisfaction. They could
scarcely restrain themselves under her
rigid inspection, for near at hand
stretched the lonj>- tables loaded with
all sorts of delicious things foreign to
the city waifs. Country boys take
good food as a matter of course, but
three hours of baseball and chasing
the nimble squirrel had made every
body ravenous.
"Golly," said Lame Jimmie, taking in
the turkey, chicken, bread, vegetables,
jellies, pickles, cake, pie, and fruit with
which the long table was filled. "1
wisht every day was New Year's."
How they all enjoyed that dinner!
Miss Hunt buttered bread till her
fingers ached. Mrs. Brown ladled out
quarts of gravy. Mary collected a
peck of boiies to make room near the
loaded plates for her dishes of apple
sauce and peaches, while the other
women, who had been joined by- two
more mothers, sliced ham, and
answered calls for more turkey and
everything else on the bill of fare.
"If you ladies will come to the game,
we'll give you the best reserved seats,"
said, the captain of the city nine, when
a plate of delicious plum pudding was
placed before him. As the best re
served seats were on the roof of Miss
Hunt's cow barn, the ladies declined
with thanks.
"We are very much obliged," said
Miss Hunt, "but the dishes must be
washed and preparations made for
supper."
"Does we git supper, too?" asked a
bootblack, laving down a piece of
frosted cake with a sigh. "I'se been
a eatin' enough fer supper now."
"Corse we does," said another.
"Dese ladies is de real ting."
"And to think," said Miss Hunt to
herself as the train pulled out and the
echo of the cheers her guests had just
given for her was still singing in her
j ears. "I was afraid to have the poor
j little souls come into my house. They
| said it was the happiest day they ever
spent, and I'm ashamed of my selfish
j ness. They behaved like gentlemen
every one of them, and would not
! have injured a thing in the house. W hen
j they come back next Fourth of Jul\
; I'll give them a picnic that is worthy
1 of the name, and do it without calling
on all tin- neighbors for help, too.
i Ohio Farmer.
IIAU NO I SK I'M llt IT.
*"> r VN • t I heard that \ ><u rt eenect *
Isuutiftll poeketliook lor * New
Year'* prek»nt."
Mr. Nit I Imt'k rinlit, but what tin
in a pin 1,, tbiM.k lo u fellow wl . w«ut
uiok«. uu piA-k«ot* • w*rk HUu'(
-01gf
HATTIE ANTlfy XAIHCWLD
f' T WAS a bare, desolate
room in a tenement house
V 1(180 " s< " l *' lern city. On a
rickety table in one cor
tier stood a broken vase,
which still showed rem
nants of it.s pristine beauty as the
light of a stray sunbeam shone
through its ruby depths. A long
stemmed, withered rose which it held
was doubtless a reminder of some
appier hour. The occupants of the
oom were a mother and her three
lildren, a puny babe, a little girl,
perhaps three years of age, and aj
boy about seven years her senior. (
There was nothing about the room i
to suggest that the family had ever |
1 .'en comfortably placed as regards j
this world's goods, save the broken
Venetian vase, but the face of the I
mother as she bent over her wailing
babe, trying to. soothe and still its
cries, bore the truces of what had
once been the most refined type of
bf auty.
Only a short year ago, Mary Der
went and her little family had been
living in comparative comfort, but
suddenly her husband lost his posi
tion as head clerk in a large estab
lishment, which, owing to the pres-
Meanwhile Hugh Derwent Had Dragged His
Weary Way Homeward.
sure of the times, had failed. Unfor
tunately, he fell seriously ill of a
fever, which completely prostrated
him. By degrees their small savings
were expended, then the best of the
furniture was sold, for they were too
proud to isk help, and so they went
from ba< to worse, until they only
had the bed, the stove, the table
and t\v . chairs, which now furnished
in scant measure the little room in
the tenement they called home.
Hugh had been out since early
morning' hunting for work, and his
wife was growing momentarily more
anxious about his prolonged absence.
What could keep him? it began to
grow dark. Pressing her pale face
against the panes, she peered out in
to the street.
"Mamma, I'm so hungry," pleaded a
weak liitle voice from the bed. "Can't
I have something?"
"Oh, llarry, what shall we do? Sis
ter wants something to eat?" cried
Mrs. Derwent, putting her arms
around her little boy's neck.
"Mamma, don't cry. I'll go out
again; perhaps I'll get something
this time, and pr'aps I'll meet papa.
I won't come back without some
thing this time," cried Harry. "Now,
see, mamma, if I do. IMease don't
cry!"
"Oh, where will you go. my poor
little darling, where will you go?
Your clothes are too thin togo out
in this wind. 1 cannot, cannot let
you go'."
But Harry was oft; lie had no time
to lose. He had no time to lose, in
deed, if he meant to reach the great
publishing house in Broad street. It I
was fully live o'clock, and he must
be there before six, and i; was such a J
long, weary walk for a little fellow.
Meanwhile Hugh Derwent had
dragged his weary way homeward. ■
He had met the usual rebulfs, some
ludely uttered, some gently worded, I
for there were men who were
touched by his pallid face anil the
hopeless expression of his eotin- 1
Una lice. Mary listened for his foot j
steps, for it was now too dark to sec j
the passers-by on the street, caught j
a faint, uncertain sound as of some- |
inc tottering on the stairs. Opening j
the door she discerned the figure of ;
her husband coining wcarih up, step I
by Step, but oil. so slowly. Soon she
hail )■ iin clasped in her arms. N<>
need for liiiu to repeat tl« sad story
or failure again; she knew it when 1
he touched her check with his cold I
lip-.
"Where is Harry?" were the llrst
words he spoke after regaining IIIK j
breath, for he was quite exhausted ;
by the exertion of mounting the
steep staircase
"lie's gone out, dearest; | couldn't
stop him. Mary cried for something'
to eat, and the little fellow lushed
out, determined to do something. !
Dolt'l be 112 Tightened, llilgh. tiod will
take care of him, mid of u». too. We
INIBMt not hide our trouble from your
aunt any longer; it isn't justice tu I
our children."
Where, meantime, wa> little llurn
and what was his object in »noting
the rent (tUOiiftbiug hou*f of t'orU A
~ t
Company? Looking at the huge,
seven-story building, with all its win
dows ablaze with light, you would
wonder what purpose the child had in
mind.
Nearly a year before, Mary Der
went, when the beginning of their
troubles had come, hail mailed a
story to the Manhattan Magazine, en
tering the competition for a prize of
SSOO, which had been offered. Mary
Derwent, in iter happier days, had
written verse which had been accept
ed and published. The prospect of
coming trouble had stimulated her,
as it has many another, to literary
effort, in the hope of giving her fam
ily the helping hand. Poverty had
Unit this little family into a closer
and more intimate union than ordi
narily exists in families, and they
I had talked things over together, but
long since Mary had ceased to won
der about her story, giving it up for
lost.
'i'lie thought of it came as an in
spiration to small Harry, and he
meant to beg money for the story;
that was his errand. "Surely,"
thought the child, "the good editor
will buy it if he knows how hungry
we all are."
Harry's tired little feet at last
reached the large building where the
Manhattan Magazine was published,
and through his earnest solicitation
he was admitted to the editorial
rooms, where he told his errand.
After some questioning, he was in
formed that Mary Derwent's story
had won the first prize, and as she
had sent no address except "City,"
they had forwarded the check to the
general delivery office.
It was so far to the post office, but
that letter would buy bread, so Harry
trudged bravely on. At last he was
there. There were two letters, one
for his father. He clutched them
tightly in his thin, small hand and
started for home. How far it was!
If he could just hold out to get
there! A pain came in his head and
everything turned dark around him.
despite the electric lights.
There was an elegant gentleman
sauntering leisurely along, looking
almost bored by the mere fact of ex
istence. Harry stopped a moment,
passing his hand over his eyes as if
to clear away the mist, before at
tempting the muddy crossing.
What made everything turn around
so? Suddenly there was an outcry
as a little form went down in the
mud and slush, right in front of a
carriage dashing furiously onward.
A moment more and the cruel hoofs
of the madly driven horses will
trample the brave little life out.
Hut no, a strong arm clutches
them, tind with almost superhuman
strength forces them back on their
haunches as the little child struggles
to his feet, it was the listless gen
tleman, a Mr. Mayo.
"Oh, thank you, sir," gasped Harry.
"Ah, don't mention it. sonny; let
me help you across," and he grasped
the muddy, ragged sleeve in his
daintily gloved hand, and nearly lift
ing the slight form, swung him over.
'I he child reeled and would have fall
en, but he caught and held him.
"I can't goon, and they are so hun
gry at home. Please take this letter
to mother—I —I can't see."
The gentleman signaled a hack and
lifted Harry in, taking a seat beside
him.
"Now, where do you live?" he in
quired.
Harry roused sufficiently to give di
rections, but immediately sank back
almost fainting.
Mr. Mayo suddenly exclaimed, as if
a thought had struck him which was
very surprising:
There Were Two Letters, 0"e tor Hi* Father.
"I believe 1 lie boy is starving," and
; lie stopped tin- luieK in front of a res
taurant and ordered a of milk,
a (flass of sherry and some brund\
and water, the only thing- lie eould
1 think of just then.
The haekman said, dryly:
"Thai ain't no tiiten Mult fur folk*
! u lull's starviu'! The lllitk'll do, but
bread and ineat's what he needs."
"Well, tiring them," and a (feiierou*
--111• I• I\ wait brought forth.
A slow smile iliiwiii'il on I lie fare
•if the yeutleinan as the ehild ate.
"Ah what a remarkable u|i|>et Ite!
! I feel kiirfeitrd tuyxelf Junt wutehiuir
yon."
Ilurri'* tippet Ite np|>eiised, the,*
proveedeil.
Mr. Muyo »eanned ihr addresses on
the letters whieh he had taken,
"Mary Her went Mound* faniili.tr,
i somehow."
They arrived at the inritii tenement.
..ml llnriv ukkeil Mr Mayo upstair*
' T'ur mother wtM wi.ut tv thank
;uu," he nuid.
i • - -•••*- - -
"T don't core for thanks, but 1
would like to see the owner of thnt
name—must be someone I ha\>
known."
"Mother!" called llarrv, "oh,
mother, 1 bring good news. Here's
money; your story won iirst prize,
and here's a kind gentleman who
saved me from being run over. Now
Mary and all can have something to
eat."
Mr. and Mrs. Derwent could rot,
realize the sudden transition from
despair to hope. They sat as if
dazed. Mr. Derwent came forward
at last, and in a broken voice tried to
speak his thanks.
"Why, haven't you a light?" in
quired Mr. Mayo.
"Oh. sir," said Harry, who had re
xived wonderfully since eating, "we
had no money to buy anything."
Mr. Mayo stared. He had never
come in Contact with poverty before.
"Here., take my purse and get light
and, ah--something to eat."
Mr. Derwent was again thanking
him, while Mrs. Derwent was weep
ing tears of joy and thankfulness.
"(iod sent you to save my children
from starvation. This evening I
begged for bread, begged it, and the
laker refused me. Hut what
wouldn't a woman do for her chil
dren?"
Harry soon came back with a light
and a basket of food and handed the
purse back to Mr. Mayo.
"1 only took enough for to-night,
for mother has money, now."
Mr. Mayo emptied the purse on the
bed, where Mrs. Derwent was already
feeding little Mary, who ate raven
ously.
The mother had less to eat than
any, but, mother-like, thought of si If
last.
Mr. Mayo bowed himself out. prom
ising to call on the morrow, silently
wondering that he, of all others,
should lie the one to play Providence
tc. a poor family.
The second letter which Harry
brought proved to be an urgent invi
tation from Mr. Derwent's aunt in
the country for him anil his family
to spend New Year's with her, the
second day from this. How gladly
they left the close, comfortless room
for the spacious old farmhouse
among the hills!
The day was glorious, the air
balmy as if Indian summer had come
again.
When they reached the home sta
tion and crowded into the large fam
ily carriage, she thisew wide the win
dows to let in the golden sunlight
and health-giving breeze from the
pine lands.
Was ever a day more royal than
this?
Mr. Mayo, having called to see
the Derwents the day previous, Mrs.
Derwent took the liberty, in her
great happiness, to invite him out.
too, presented himself, to his own
and her astonishment, as they were
going out to dinner in the large,
handsome old dining-room.
There was just enough frost in the
air to make the wood fire acceptable,
yet the musk roses looked saucily in
at the wide windows and nodded a
welcome, while large vases full of
flowers breathed out their hearts in
fragra nee.
The crowning event of the day
came when Mr. Derwent was giving
a second helping to turkey. The dear
old aunt announced that, as he would
be her heir, it was his duty to remain
there and keep up his property; she
was tired of living without children
in the house."And what is more, I'm
not going to any longer," she de
clared with emphasis.
"Ah, Mrs. Derwent," said Mr. Mayo,
after dinner, as he swung lazily in a
hammock under a large oak tree. "I
found out why your name sounded so
—ah, familiar; there was a little mis
take. My cousin wrote a story for
that competition, and took a fancy
to sign her name 'Mary Derwent,'
having heard it somewhere, perhaps.
She told me about it and "
"Then it was her story instead of
mine which won the prize?"
"ITer story was called 'Kvelyn,' I
think."
"That accounts for it; the letter
that contained the cheek said 'lCvelyu,
by Mary Derwent.' Mine was 'Kvnn
geline,' 4>ut I thought they had made
a mistake."
"Ah, quite a coincidence," said \lr.
i Mayo, "but you shan't lose by it."
"I can't lose now. Had Harry not
gone to the post otliee, he would nut
have met you, and had you not suc
cored us at that critical time we
would have died, and hut for tie
check we could not have come out
here."
"So you stole your New Year's,
i Mary," said her aunt, as she shook
her fat sides in laughter, "but the
heir to 'l'inelauds,* your farmer lius
banil (as he is to lie), can easily re
place it."
Would \ ••II believe that that ga>
voting fellow driving the cow* from
the pasture with Harry, helping Utile
Mar.v make mild pies, swinging the
baby in the hummock, peeling pota
toes with a cheeked itproti oil, wan
(•lie dandy who stood ai the street
trussing with his euile in his mouth,
almost refuting the statement that
"iH>d made iiiuu in His own image?"
Well, lie is the identieal yoitrg
swell, who lino been out ut IMiiclatiil*
several weeks, anil sitv M In- intend*
staving there several more.
"In iitel Mr llerw r«f," he xaitl, "I
i.in In love with I'iiie lauds. and 1 in
tend >oil shall adopt uie a> a brother.
I.el lite put tll.V I lion#) ill impiole
iiieut* on the pltt it tat 1011, untl iliMcutl
of making 'ducks ami it takes' of my
lupilui, I'll bin tlnek uin I ilt.iki s mttl
quit inakii i' a fc'° of nit*.! If"
Hi ton he gate lite world "USSUIIIIIID
ult utau l.mleV wild. .Sum \uik.