Des Moines courier. ([Ottumwa] Iowa) 1848-1854, 1854-01-26
From the Sunday Times.
THE GHOST OF
LAST NIGHTS PARTY
OR SKETCHES OF
Christmas Firesides.
| CONCLUDED
CHAPTER FOUR.

The banks of snow clouds lay dark
aud heavy OH the Jersey hills The next
mornirg. The storm was over, and the
snow lay crisping in The morning light.
The early milk aud marke, sledges were
moving noiselessly along the streets; and
scores Of urchins, up al dawn TO watch
the progress of The snow, rejoiced TO
think that next day-Cnristmss day
would bring them hill riding and snow
balling TO their hearts delight. .
Peter Patter. with his shovel, was out
az early as any--his great Bernard close
at his heels. rolling at times and frisking
in the snowy masses as he went.
IL musr surely have plenty Of jobs to
do-the snow is more than fifteen inches
deep. 10 morrow Christmas, tool
These chaps in Madison or Fifth Ave-
nue. are the ones for money, If can on
Iy get them up. said Peter Pat,er, as
he stopped for momen. before large
house 10 pick bit Of snow out of his
eye.
basement door compelled him to stop
momen, longer, when a sleepy-looking
maid came up the steps, wth-"HeIe,
you boy, shovel off our stoop and walk
as quickly as you can. He's queer
man, is MASTER" continued she to an.
other sleepy appearing girl. who came
behind her with a milk, pitcher. "UP
half the night-ot party. too-and
then ordering his horse aud sleigh at
daylight for drive! Be quick, now"
No need for this injunction to Peter;
for scarcely were the words OF the maid
servant sp, ken than he had mounted TO
the froat door step, and had begun the
lob. "Morlon Morris Morton, eh!"
said he, glancing a. the plate. "liim's
The gentleman who wanted TO buy Ry
Rover, cause he liked the name, and
used to have dog just like him forty
years ago. Guess that dogs dead a
heap o ears afoie | was born" And
a. every word. he shove lied or thew, as
IT the speaking was positive assistance
To his exertiOns.
The merchant had no sleep after the
"Ghost OF Last Nights Party" hissed
those words about his ''blooc" within
his ears; b.. tossing upon his bed had
laid three or four hours. thinking still
of all tie past--his fathers harsfness
and his mothers love; and could they be
alive! Although they had not answered
his letters. he had traced them emigrat.
ing towards the west; but no clue was
had. His name was not the name of
the bap,ismal font, and they had never
heard Of him. Besides, they mus, be
dead-for both. even If alive, would be
htrd on TO eighty years Of age. He
must have change, excitement. refresh
,ng air. An early drive! The very
thing. he thought, for faded body and
worried mind.
And so, while Peter Pa,er shovelled
diligently-his Bernard helping wonder
fully with his frisking and his tail and
paws-.he coachmsn, early routed from
his snoozings. had brought the sleigh and
horses to the door, and his master was
stepping from she door step to the curb,
with the brows knitted as they were the
night before, - if emotions struggled
direfully in his breast.
..Whsi! you here, my boy, and this
your dog-you Rover. whom"
IL wouldn't sell, sir, cause ! can't
Iloyes the old fellow most too much"
"Old fellow--yes!-and very like the
dog who made me an exile from my
fathers house," (These last words he
said musingly 10 himself.) "Bu, why
are you here, my boy! Have You LET,
the dog kennels for other employ msn.!"
.No, sir, faint that. But you see
TO- morrow's Christmas. and I'm going
home to Brook6eld 10 spend il; and
wan. some money-so shovels snow,"
answered the boy, a. the coachman stood
impatien.ly patting ais horses, and won
dering what all this palaver meant
.Brookfield!" said The merchant. start.
ing; and have you lived st Brook6sld!
Who's your father. boy!"
He named him.
mo, know him not" said the mer-
chant 10 himself; "'.is long time ago."
Impatience from the coachmsn ye,
pgain. and restive ringing Of the sleigh
bells from the horses necks; but still