Kenosha tribune & telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1856-1859, 1857-02-12

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I.-CHIaEs OF MEMORY. @
Merry Christmas! 2 -
All, but it used to be before the dreamy
mood of boyhood melted away like 8
mist. Merry, merry christmas, then
The very words tinkled unsteady.
can hear them trembling yet inmemory
like that faint jingling of sleigh bells thai
steals up from the street and in through
the snow untitled easement
1t was fine, then, toleiterin the crowd
ed street, gazing in at theshop window.
the Ell Dorados of fancy articles. the
Australian lands of bon-bons and can.
dy. What stereotyped visions / had Of
St. Nick, with his reindeer equipage OIL
the house top, and bis huge pack filed
with trumpets that wouldn't blow well
and carts that wouldn't 90 well, and
dear old Hans christian Andersen's
story books, which never failed of being
Arcadias of delight Then at home
when the apples and nuts were dispos-
ed of, my grandsire-God love his white
hairs.--would take me on his knee and
read about Christ in the Manager with
such quaint pronunciation.
Touched with these memories, and
sitting there once more, as it were, il
the sunrise of life, am moved to write
a christmas story for Ida Nave and lit
tie Carrie, and tiny fingered Mabel who
are sleeping in the next room. l vii
put it in the most diminutiye of the three
mimic stockings-it is all the poor au
thor can give to the dreamy little an
gels. And some Of these days, wher
this poor, wearied pen is quite tired out
when there is nothing left of me but two
or three volumes in some out fthe way
bookcase, their mother, some Christmas
Eve, mayhap, will call the darlings to hen
side, andread the timeworn, yellow man.
uscripts to them. And Ida Maye will
listen thoughtfully, with long ebon lash.
es resting on her cheeks; and Carrie
roguish eyes will laugh outright, though
the story is sad one; and Mabel will
clap her hands together like two white
rose leaves.
All this may be.
But before I write | will steal softly
into the next room and look at their
sweet young faces. O, but they are
newly from heaven and their tiny mouths
are made up for prayer. An infantile
glory is only half shrouded blythe droop-
ing eyelid, and their sweet faces light up
the shadowy room, as the tulips do some
shady nook of the summer woods |
shall be better for looking at them ]
will kneel at the bed-side-pcrhaps ]
shall be weeping; for tomorrow night,
when the children dance around the
Christmas tree, little boy, with Won
derful blue eyes, will not be there. And
III all the presents that will be hung up
on the emerald branches, in among the
red and blue candles, there will be none
for "Charlie." And when we think of
"the little boy that died." our lips will
culver though laugh and jest go round,
AID the music be gay and wild as the,
melody of Shelly's Queen Nab.
1.-THE ANCIENT UNDEETAKER.
Old Jedd Pallfry turned down the
gas little, glanced nervously at the
sombre row of collins on each side of
him, locked the shop door and stood i'll
the street
e 1t was christmas eve, and the snow
flakes, like tiny birds of paradise, were
lighting on the roofs of the houses, and
in the long streets Of the city.
Every night at the same hour, eight
o'clock for ten years, the undertaken had
turned down the gas, locked the door,
and placed the same key underthe same
mat, and stood in the same position for
moment by the window, before turning
into the narrow, zig-zag street, which, TO
him, ended at his supper table.
But this time he was not going home.
The antique Mr. Hans Spuyten Duvel,
whose death his amiabe relatives had
been impaitently awaiting for the last
quarter of century, had died that day,
and old Jedd had been sent for to put
the habilaments Of the grave upon Mr.
Spuyten Duyvel's body, and two bright
halfdolars on his ewes which small change
was afterwards transferred to the pock-
ct of the ancient undertaken.
Now old Pallfry hadmade collins since
his youth, and for the last thirty years
had really more intimacy with the dead
than dealings with the living. There
was nothing in the world so beautiful TO
him rs a cotfin-unless it was an order
of one. He had worked at his trade at
all hours of the night; he had made lit
tie coflins-O, such touching little cof-
fns.--and fat ones and slim ones; and
by the CHASTITY chickering's of lamp Mt
midnight, he had laid the cold white
dead III the vanished boxes, without
feeling a throb of sympathy in the old
iron bound heart Of his.
But that evening he shuddered as he
turned down the gas, and ,thelong wood
en- tencments with their covers off, like
so many satin lined gateways leading to
perdition. He felt as fla thousand strong
ofair were blowing him toward
them. He could hardly keep from step
ping into one; and it required all his
strength to reach the door and lock it.
Jedd drew long breath.
''It's always so-every Christmas eve
she does IT."
As old Jedd Pallfry muttered this be-
tween his thin, bloodless lips, and look
ed into the old shop suspiciously. He
saw nothing at first, but the unaccustom-
ed number of collins, and the velvet pail
folded on the counter, and those slim,
black stools which we all have seen in
our homes-God pity us. But as he
looked, his slim, almond-shaped eyes
grew suddenly to orbs. a strip offioor
had eommeneed@ swelling and bullying
and Wrapping. Little by little it grew in
to the shape of mound; tiny emerald
spears of grass shot out oft in every Ii
rection; then it was dotted all over with
yellow daisies, and a rose bush with q
single hiterose sprungupt romthecentrc