Worcester daily spy., 1861-12-25
From Godey's Lady's Book.
A CHRISTMAS STORY.


A CHRISTMAS STORY.
Mr.. Curtis sat alone in his office it was
just at the turn Of the day, when the shadows
in the corners were softly tro0ping forth to
turn the twilight into darkness. There had
been unusually painful cases in court upon
that day, and the lawyers brow wore look
OF thoughtful sadness, and lie leaned his head
upon lis hand with an air of WEAKNESS which
was at variance with his strongly marked tea-
lures, and the energy of his usual movements
and words. R0using himself after an hour of
thought, he lighted his room and then sat
down to write his first task was the following
letter
My DEAR MADAM 1t greves me, both as
an old friend and professional adviser to have
to tel you that our last hope failed to-day.
You have assured me from the commence
ment OF the suit that you looked for no other
issue, and most sincerely trust that the blow
will be lightened by the anticipation of the re-
suit of our efforts. In any way that ! can be
OF service to you, allow me to assure y ou that
it will be my highest pleasure to be employed.
Hoping that you will cali upon me for any
advice or assistance you may need now, am
Yours very truly, A. CURTIS.
Mrs. L. BARCLAY.
He had scarcely finished writing the direct
ions OF this epistie, when a loud ring at the
bell announced visitor. He looked up to see
at the door small, childlike figure, dressed in
mourning with veil over her face.
"Mr. Curtis | believe" said very sweet
voice, and raising the vail the lady showed
face to match The gentle accents. She was
very slight and small, and her fair smooth
hair, large blue eyes, and small features gave
d winning childish look to her face, with which
close widows cap and heavy black attire
made touching contrast. Mr.. Curtis arose
hon Ial Lodi I,afr md
waited to bear her errand
you are Mrs. Barclays legal adviser, l
believe"
Mr.. Curtis bowed assent.
81 am Mrs. Hastings your uncle would
know me well, but since lett home find that
have lost an old friend in his DEATH"
81 have heard my uncle speak frequently of
Mrs. Barclays friend, little Carrie" :"
"Yes, am little Carrie l returned from
Europe yesterday, aud ior the first time heard
of'-the blue eyes were filling tast-'dear
Mrs. Barclays troubles. came here instant
ly to ask you to tell me all, or the accounts l
hear vary"
II should be" Mr. Curtis paused
"You are lawyer" said Mrs. Hastings,
smiling, "and l am making blunGer, | see,
in my request. Did Mrs. Barclay or your
uncle ever tell you any ihing about me 2"
"Only that you were a very dear friend Of
the lady's."
"Then if it will not weary you will tell
you my story, and you shall then judge
whether it is best to answer my questions.
Seven years ago last Christmas eve, | was
made an orphan. My lather'was drummer
in the orchestra OF one of our theatres, my
mother embroidered collars. One evening
Christmas eve, there had been pantomime at
the theatre in which my father was engaged,
which required music behind the scenes, and
in passing from the rear OF the stage to the
front, he tell into trap, which was invisible
in the dim light, and was killed instantly
they brought his body home, and the shock,
acting upon frame weakened by toll, power
ty, and illness, was too much tor my mother
she went from one swoon to another, and died
i'll my arms just as the dawn of Christmas
peeped into our little room. l was then just
fifteen years OF age for the day which
brought this weight OF sorrow was my birth
day
My parents death threw me upon the world
utterly penniless, and l was very young, sir.
am telling you all this to prove how much
owe to Mrs. Barclay My parents had been
poor from my birth, yet | was not wholly
without education. My father had natural
genius Tor eocuton and had trained my voice
Tor reading while my mother taught me TO
sew and an old viollnlst friend of my father
had given me instruction IN muse l could
read, play on the piano, sing and sew SO,
after had seen all my parents property sold
TO pay their funeral expenses, started with
brave heart TO make my living. You may
well shake your head. had not one friend
out of the theatre, and there was no money to
spare among them, SO 1 went, i'll my childish
hope Of obtaining work, from door to door. |
was very small, and some smiled pityingly,
some contemptu0usy at the idea OF trusting
the little wanderer with sewing. A whole
week passed and l had not earned one cent.
Then tried the stores there too, failed.
81 was leaning one day against the counter
of store where embroidery was sold, and
where my timid petition for work had met its
last rebuff was crying, for l was cold, hun.
cry, and hopeless, A kind hanu was placed
on my shoulder, and low, weet voice
said =
"'You are in trouble my child what about?
II looked up Such kind loving face bent
over me, and such tender, plying yes looked
into nine that was warmed aud cheered in
stanly.
"'It you please l said, 'Iwant some work
"'Work, child 2
"'Yes, ma'am, embroidery l can do it.
Mother taught me and then, ncouraged by
her sweet tace and interest, | told all my trou-
bles. will not weary you by any more de-
tails. My questioner was Mrs. Barclay she
took me to her own house, and for four years
she was a second mother to me; was edu-
Gated and protected, while every wish OF my
heart Was gratified / could talk for a week
and not tell half the love and kindness she
poured out upon the little orphan child, and it
was not given as if l were dependent upon
her bounty, charity ward but every gift
was sweetened by loving worda and actions. l
was told to call her Aunt Lizzie, and she in
troduced me 10 her friends as her child, making
me her equal in station; and yet / had no real
claim upon her; il was her own loving heart
that found its return in what alone could
give, my gratitude and affection.
"When was nineteen years old married,
and in parting from me, my dear benefactress
gave new tokens of her loving care. l will
not dwell upon my married life, its grief is