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A CHRISTMAS CAROL
By Josiah Gilbert Holland
in Mcatreal Herald
¢[HERESa song in the air!
There's a star in the sky!
There's a mother’s deep prayer
And a baby’s low cry!
And the star rains. its five while the Beau-
tiful sing,
For the anger of Bethlehem cradles. a
8
There's a tumult of joy
O’er the wonderful birth,
For the Virgin's sweet boy
Is the Lord of the earth.
Ay! the star rams its fire and the Bean-
tiful sing,
For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a
king.
In the light of that ster
Lie the. ages impearled,
And that song from afar
Has swept over the world.
Every hearth is aflame and the Beautiful
ning,
In the homes of the nations that Jesus is
King.
We rejoice in the light,
And we echo the song
That comes down through the night
From the heavenly throng.
Ay! we shout ito the lovely evangel they
ng,
And we greet in His cradle our Seviowr
VERYONE was happy but Car-
rie, they said. All four of the
others had come in the last two
days before Christmas, A heavy
now had fallen and to remind
them of old times Father Carson had
met Harry and Esther at the station
in the old bobsled. And Harry and
Esther, in turn, had Jingled merrily
down after Frank and his wife and
the new baby. Mr. and Mrs. Carson
beamed at the children, home again.
A yule log crackled im the fireplace,
The old fashioned pantry almost
bulged, Harry and Frank had
brought a Christmas tree from down
by the creek and Esther and Marion,
Frank's wife, trimmed it
Of course, poor Carrie had to be the
ast one home, She'd wired them
that she had to teach up to the last
minute and wouldn't arrive until
Christmas eve,
“Poor Carrie,” they sald again,
For Frank and Marion were so proud
of the new baby, and Harry'd had a
promotion. Esther was romantic
with a beautiful diamond and a young
man’s very soulful pleture, This was
her senior year in college. She'd de-
pended on Carrie for funds as each
of the others had, but she couldnt
help patronizing Carrie a little in
her mind, Poor drab Carrle with
her eternally shabby clothes and her
same old teaching job,
“Did shdé ever have a fellow?”
Marion asked Frank and Harry as
they pulled on heavy overcoats before
meeting the train,
Everyone reflected. “Once,” Frank
recalled, “the year she was In nor
mal school, but he married somebody
else.”
Esther gnzed casually at her ring
and shrugged. “Poor dear,” she mur-
mured, “She has no idea of hew to
handle men. It ‘requires muéh tact”
The boys roared with langhter. “You
leave Carrie alone! they shouted as
they crunched out to the sleigh.
Mrs. ‘Carson came from the
en, cheecks flushed. “Girls” she said,
“Carrie's always been the family back- |
bone. Let's be specially nice to her |
this Christmas. I don’t ‘think we
ought to brag to her about our own |
gootl fortunes, Don't, above aN |
things, let her see that we feel sorry |
for her”
The girls agreed. “Especially |
Esther's engagement. That'll make
her more lonesome, poor thing,” said
Marion,
But
came in.
she called, kissing
“Why,
had a new
“Am ‘1
kitch- |
was radiant when ghe
“Merry Christmas, folks
of them,
Carrie
ench
Carrie!”
dress,
not festive?”
too.
ghe sald, but
until supper time, “I've had a talk
with the principal.
school, now, and I'm going to Europe
next year! ‘Oh, Tve dlways wanted
“Merry Christmas!” She Called, Kiss.
ing Each of Them.
to!” They'd never seen her se hap-
py. Esther and Marion forced con
descension from their congratulations.
“Poor dear,” whispered Esther. “She's
having to let these things take the
piace of the love she's starved for
I'm sure her gayety Isn't resl” Bat
Carrie didn't hear.
John Grey called. He'd known the
family always but they were sur
prised that he should come on Christ-
mas eve. It took Harry to detect the
reason. “I believe he's here to see
Carrie,” he whispered to the aston-
ished family, Carefully, each slipped
away.
“Wouldn't it be wonderful If she
could land him--with all his money
and-—but she can't. She doesn't know
how, poor thing, and he's been a
bachelor too long to fall for a little
drab mouse,” they sald.
John left at eleven and the family
rushed in. “You sly lady,” they all
shouted, not believing themselves,
“How does this happen?”
Carrie smiled and then looked sori.
ous, “Oh, John wants me to marry
him, but I don't want to marry. I
want to go to Europe!”
“What? You turned him down?”
Esther and Marion couldn't believe It,
Carrie nodded. *I just happened
onto him at a convention the first day
I'd found for sure that I could go
next year. I acted so ridiculously
happy that I thought he'd be ashamed
of me, Instead, he asked me to mar.
ry him, and he's been at it ever
since.”
Their Carrie with a chance to mar.
ry John Grey and turning it down!
The family looked at each other in
confusion, The phone rang,
“Carrie!” sald Father in bewllder.
ment.
, Fifteen minutes Inter, Carrie turned
from the phone. “I've just decided
to let John go to Europe with me”
she said doubtfully, thén looking at
the clock, "Merry Christmas every-
body
(@, 1928, Western Newspaper Union)
. .
~N »
For Christmas
by
NoniC Bailey
MINDFUL of the icy alr, Mollie
shook the great feather bed and
turned it over. Her black eyes
sparkled as she sang, “Wher
eer we go, we'll not forget—"
“Mollie! Ain't you ever comin’ to help
get breakfast? John Henry's got the
chores done, I hear him comin’ with
the milk.” Sue, ealling from the kitch-
en, was skimming frozen cream-——yel-
low and thick—from earthenware
crocks. “Hurry, Mollle, take up the
sausage and put the eggs in the skil-
let, Set the ples on or Johnnie won't
know he's had breakfast. Here he
comes, open the door quick, Are you
‘most froze, Johnnie?”
“By golly, it is cold, Sue.” He de
posited the huge pall, pulled off his
frozen gloves, lald them on the stove
hearth to thaw and stood breaking
bits of ice from his mustache. BSerap
ing caked snow from his boots on the
edge of the be sald,
“Y'know, I've got an idee If this keeps
up we'll have a white Christmas.”
“You'd joke if you's gona be hung.
You know tomorrow's Christmas an’
it'll spoil everything. Too for
sleighs now-—sh—here comes Ma"
“Aln’t breakfast ready yet?™ com
plained Ma. Since Mollie and Sue
had grown up, Ma—old at forty-five—
had donned her lace cap, retired to
her chimney corner to smoke her pipe,
and plece Her husbna
.
wood-box,
deep
nl
quilts,
son had never come back
and grieved,
,
Pretending for
thelr
folk had In
ters to “spend Christmas with her
“Io you think Uncle
but, at k un-
#4
GO
preparations were
the young
vited her brothers and sis-
1
ang
frveving® as] i
singin’ school crowd
a ki
Mollie began *
you think Uncle Ike will ever
back?"
“Land sakes, no, whatever put that
head, child? Who'd
Californy to come back here an’ freeze
re
{ome
leave
yy
Vell, I reckon most folks wanta go
to Callforny time.” commented
80S
ain't 80 bad after all, when the crops
Is fair an’ that's most generally.
They's still plenty ¢' firewood and
they’'s apples an’ turnips an’ ‘taters
an’ ft few other things in the cellar.
Bossy an’ Baldy ain't falled us yet an’
they's plenty ¢° meat In the smoke
house, Oranges an’ fresh lettuce is
mighty fine, but they don't lay heavy
on yer stummick.”
“Sour grapes,” chided Spe. “Yon
know you'd to go out there an’
all them purty flowers an’ go
swimmmin® at Christmas time an’ never
have to go out In the cold to do the
“Danged If I would” re
sponded the loyal one, “the old farm's
good enough for me, Christmas ain't
no proper time fer swimmin', nohow,
an’ 1 #in't never been burt doin’
chores.”
Throughout the meal, the young peo-
ple continued their banter; then John
Henry followed the girls to the kiteh-
“They’s tracks around the barn.”
he confided; “don’t scare ma, but it
might be that balf-wit hired man 1
fired last fall—up to the Lord knows
what! You gals keep to the house
an’ don’t let ne stranger in" Appre
hensive of the worst, they promised.
Presently the sky cleared. Bunshine
and melting snow were making roads
more impassable throughout the day,
love
Ree
chores”
eh.
“Ain't Breakfast Ready Yet? Com.
plained Ma,
That night as they sat around the fire
place, a gust of wind overburdened
the snow on the roof and a portion
slid to the ground with a thud and the
rattle of breaking jcicles, The girls
screamed. Realizing thelr nervous.
ness was due to the tracks around the
barn, John Henry laughed heartily, set
some apples roasting on the hearth,
by way of diversion, and cracked
bluck walnuts on the side of a flat.
fron. Sue fretted about “all them
mince ples ;” Ma sald It was a shame
they'd killed both turkeys, and Mollie
declared she was never “so put out in
her life”
Suddenly the wind howled angrily.
“Golly, Ma, it's gettin’ cold again,
Bet ¥' It'll crust the snow over to-
night,” “Like as not,” Ma agreed, and
the driving wind continned. John Hen
ry added a log to the fire and began
shelling popcorn. Bue nudged her gis
ter. “He means 'mike the popeorn
balls!” Molile began to sing “Al
though we cross the ocean blue, no
friends we'll find one-half so true”
John Henry carried a shovel of
glowing coals to the kitchen and
started a fire, Golug to the door he ex-
amined the gun and set it near, “He
don't dike them tracks, Mollie,” Bue
confided over the boiling sirup. “I'll
bet it Is that half-wit” Their eyes
grew big and round.
Early to bed and whistling wind
Wrought restful sleep and with morn-
ing came sleigh bells. Mollie seratched
a peep-hole in the fantastic frost for.
est on the window pane, “It's Uncle
Jimmie and Mary Ann, Meet ‘em
quick an’ tell ‘em not to let Ma catch
“Det y' we're first ones here,”
he began, but Sue cautioned him as he
gave her a snowy hug.
By the time Uncle Hiram and Aunt
Betsy and their Ethelbert and Aunt
Emerine and Hannah had arrived, Ma
had begun to surmise: but at the next
familiar jingle, she actually arose and
peered out the window herself. “Fer
the land sakes, If it ain't Bister Cath
erine and Sary Jane and Billy all the
way from Plke county. Johnnie, what
are you children up to anyhow? Who
else is comin’?
“Depends on the weather, Ma.
on you've guessed it's your party.”
Ma dropped Into her chalr, speechless,
and began puffing vigorously on her
pipe. Her eyes toid them she was al-
most happy.
By noon
brothers
dren, Some
Of course,
but he was
and conversation.
forgot what Chr
like,” some one ventured
Bat Ike had not
Jong yearning
God's
As soon as he heard of the reonion he
decided to ent turkey back home, Ike
out West with the forty-
niners—hadn’'t found much gold: but
the city bad spread out all over his
iand and be had “got rich in spite of
himself.”
Down on the
presented a typi
on.”
eck
those
«hil
there,
and their
hind traveled many miles
they expect Ike;
often In thoughts
Ike's about
home is
they
and sisters
were
couldn't
their
“Guess
istmas back
forgotten. Ye had
“etoht of
for a ght
bu 1
snow,”
3
country and some real
had gone
inner table
of the early
farm the d
ii feast
“Tarkesy's done,
Johnnie? sald Mary Ann, taking up
a hot mince ple. “I'l get “Im™ 1m.
pulsive Mollie, getful of his warn
ran to the harn. No sooner had
eighties Where's
Ing,
in the End All Agreed With the Scotch
Proverb.
than she saw the
half. into the corral
screamed A moment
an intensified *
in the frozen snow.
a pitchfork, she started to follow when
a rough hand eaught her and pulled
her back. Blindly she fought-—like a
young tigress-—hiting and scratching.
Through the bam door came John
Henry half dragging his victim.
" you don't need no help,” sald
the man who held Mollie In his grasp.
“Was comin’ but this young wildcat
me too much to do
you're John Henry and this one ¢
Samanthy’s gals, I'm your Uncle Ike
~-fust dropped In for that Christmas
dinner. But that wvarmint you're
draggin’ in, you'd oughta fnished
him.” “Youn don't say so! You know
who he is?’ asked John Henry. “Reck-
on if you'd took a second look you'da
knowed yourself.” With a Joud guffaw,
he caught the now reviving young man
by the arm and said, “George, meet
your affectionate brother and acknowl
edge your hearty welcome home™
“Well, I'll be gol dinged! Thank the
Lord I didn’t have the gun!” Hagging
and shaking his brother alternately,
John Henry added, “It's sure one en
us, Mollie.” He explained how he had
been “layin® fer the barn loft boarder”
when he heard her scream and caught
the man whom he fully expected to be
the “half wit.” Mollie said she'd "a
swore it was him."
After the war George had heard that
the family were driven out by Order
No. 11. Not knowing where to find
them, he went to California hoping to
find his uncle and obtain news, His
long search ended just as Ike con-
summuted his plans for Christmas; so
they decided to make the trip together
and “give ‘em a big surprise.” Arriv-
ing aforetime, they slept in the hay
and spent a day hunting down by the
river, “Our horses are down in the
old corn crib,” he concluded, “and
here we are—a fine looking palr to
present at the banquet table,”
Disheveled they were—but oh, how
welcome !
Ma looked twenty years younger.
Uncle Tke told his dreams of remodel-
Ing the old home; Ma sald she
wouldn't have o' them pew:
fangled things” In her house. Ike and
George finally decided to stay and help
harvest the spring wheat. John Henry
conceded he might go back with them
and pick some oranges off the trees.
80; home mand California went round
the long table, In the end all agreed
with the old Scoteh proverb, “Bast or
West, home's best” But many a
grandchild heard the tale of the wan
derers’ unusual welcome home for
Christmas,
(@, 1928, Western Newspaper Union.)
she stepped Inside
* ¥ Ye it
t wif dash ont
Khe
1 -
h later she
* d -
gosh™ and a
heard
scuffle
See,
Eave
-
Martha Banming, Thomas
1E Blggs family were holding a
tion There were
of them, counting father
nine
and
in a 3ume-
before
mother, and they sat
n
w what solemn semicircle
an open fire,
“The whole
sald Father Blggs, "that
money tn spend on Christmas, The
amount I saved has been used to pay
for Danny's hospital bills. There Is
coal te buy this mor new
hingles to put on the roof we
nil io
rain.
Mother Biggs
around the circle of children,
hard,
“Oh
truth of the matter is"
we have no
and
uniess
have
want drown when we
.
glanced wistfully
well” sald Eliza tossing
black, short curls, “Who cares? We're
wked at Danny
“and we
money,
well now,” she Ik
smiled bravely back,
all
who
can rig up something without
Don't let's look like a of tomb-
stones.”
This mad
row
them langh
And next day every tried
valiantly to behave as If stockings
were going to be filled on Christmas
morning with more gifts than they
knew what to do with,
But Danny was particularly troun-
bled. It was because of his sickness
that the rest of the family were be
ing deprived of their rightful
ents. He felt that it was up to him
to do something. He must contrive
to get eight gifts by hook or crook.
ut how? He
thought about It
steadily for five
hours,
“Danny, yon
haven't taken your
boat In yet from
the river,” sald
Mrs. ‘Biggs at
noon lunch. “Soon
oven mother,
Megs
the water. You'd
better run down
and drag It up oa
shore this after
noon. Tarn it
over, I saved a
big plece of old
canvas you can
cover It with,
You'd miss having
that row-boat next
summer if it got ruined now.”
Danny promised he would see about
it.
Mrs. Biggs went to the church sew-
ing society at two o'clock. Several
other Biggeos disappeared on various
errands. Danny walked across the
fields to hunt his boat in the little
stream which flowed out of the Con-
necticut river.
It was a cold, raw afternoon, A
fine rain drizzled down. Danny
stubbed along over the rough ground
still thinking, not of his boat, but
presents—and how to get some,
As he neared the spot where his
row boat was tied his eye light * up-
on a large wooden box. It was tilt
ed up on end and frozen In the mud.
It was filled with something-—small
objects seemed to be bursting out of
the cracks,
Danny hurried forward, He leaned
over the box. He poked a finger in-
side a large erack. The box was part.
ly ripped apart, Some of the boards
were missing. It was water soaked.
Danny's finger came In contact with
other pastebosrd boxes of all sises
“I wonder what this is and where it
eame from¥’ he sald aloud
There was an address In heavy
§
a town
thought
have been w
flood. It
miles down
iad been
hore of the gn
been
Duuny
ashed away in
cast up by the tide
all river. It must
here me time.
managed to ’
mall box, The
and blotched, Put on
er Danny discovered a
They were hare
draw
a A
colors v
nest
dragged
Biggs out
at six o
eves ¥
of bed
lock.
fly
little
downstairs, a
cross and
iffling in thelr
slippers,
Danny and Eliza
threw open the live
ing doors,
room
A row of bulging
stockings hung
from the mantel
piece, A bright
fire crackled on the hearth. A Christ
mas tree stood near by heavy with
gifts,
Such squeals and grunts! Such
laughter! Such an onrush to clasp a
nobby stocking to a surprised breast.
Presents for every one. Presents eve
ery one needed and could use. Doge
ens and dozens of presents
“We won't tell a single thing until
every one has opened all thelr gifts”
announced Danny, hig eyes shining
like stars. “I was the one who made
you lose your Christmas because 1
was sick, and pow 1 give it back to
you again.”
“Now son,” said Father Biggs when
the last string was untied, the last
paper unwrapped, “Tell ug how you
did iL”
80 Danny, standing by the fire in
his woolen pajamas, with a box of tal-
cum powder in one hand and a cake
of soap In the other, related his ex-
periences in finding the box. Eliza
helped out when he ran out of breath,
“The very merriest Christmas we
have ever had!” said Mother Biggs
and kissed Danny on the f
At this point several younger
had to be restrained from a gay,
roclous battle of throwing talk
(©. 1928, Western Newspaper Union.)
Christmas :
§
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